Year 2010: TV programming has mutated faster than audience tastes. A family in Mumbai, Mangalore or Meerut unwinds over an episode of Bigg Boss where a Dolly Bindra cusses more than she communicates. Beeps are all that are registered. Yet, the beeps excite as much as they censor. In fact, audiences would readily admit that they prefer the cussed Bindra to her mollified self in her second entry into the Bigg Boss house.
The same formula works for Emotional Atyachar, where suspecting partners spy on lovers — shock, horror, self-pity, curses and every insecurity validated. And then a vicarious marriage in Rahul Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, where the nation sat up and watched the infamous Mahajan get hitched.
If 2010 was the year of reality shows in more ways than one, industry insiders hint that 2011 will be fiercer and bolder. So what’s keeping India hooked?
“Forbidden behaviour is far more intriguing than conventional. The added emotional tactics created on the show make it more interesting,” says clinical psychologist Anjali Chhabria, who made a brief appearance on Emotional Atyachar, talking about the flimsy nature of new-age relationships.
MTV Bakra could be termed one of the earliest brands of Indian reality TV shows, where Cyrus Broacha played pranks on unsuspecting passers-by. From Bakra to Bigg Boss, however, a lot of water has flowed under the bridge.
“Bakra, if it would fit in the reality TV ambit, was lively and fun," says Broacha. "Today, most shows are about exposing people. It is a seriously blatant attempt, and people like it. Otherwise you would need a 35+ adult certificate to watch a Dolly Bindra on TV.”
The three most popular youth-oriented channels, MTV, Channel [V] and its newer brand UTV Bindass, have focused sharply on reality with one common denominator — glorification of the gross.
A Raghu on Roadies grilling cocky, wannabe bikers wasn’t harmless tough love; it was the pleasure derived from some deserving sod's humiliation. Heady over Roadies’ success, MTV rolled out Splitsvilla, an unnatural ratio of girls to boys let loose on each other in some exotic setting. The results of the controlled experiment: bitching and bantering, lying and sneaking, straight into season four.
“These shows elicit the most primitive emotions of the human race that look attractive in a stressful fast-paced world. Filth and the dirt have become respectable in a world where birds kissing or other metaphors have become redundant,” says psychiatrist Harish Shetty. “What does Kasab eat? That becomes interesting.
Earlier, ‘who is intimate with whom’ was the hottest gossip but today we want to know ‘how they f*$%; the details interest,” he adds. “India is moving from denial to disclosure and from fiction to facts.”
The audience knows exactly what’s creating the pull in a given format, but whether they want to talk about it or not – inside the four walls of their private space, at least – they accept the voyeur inside that hankers for constant indulgence. And a dose of talent shows to reassure them, ‘Yes you can, too’.
Chembur resident Aradhana Gupta, 23, unwinds over Bigg Boss with her elder brother and watches Emotional Atycahar with her mother. “We have a good laugh watching over-the-top contestants. Even if the shows are scripted, I watch them for pure entertainment value,” she says.
“Wannabe dudes show off, skimpily clad models are embroiled in cat fights and fake accents: that’s what Splitsvilla is. But I am not ashamed to watch it. More often than not it is a subject of conversation during lunch breaks in office,” says Archana Thakur, 24, who follows most Indian and international reality TV shows, often catching up with the missed episodes on YouTube.
Are we done with dumbing down TV? Unlikely. There are higher highs to experience and the lowest and basest in humankind to reach and yank out. And another upside, says sociologist Sarla Bijapurkar, KJ Somaiya Institute, is that reality TV has been a great leveler. “With reality shows, we have brought down our intellect to one common denominator.”
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