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ShareBut of course, the reality of reality shows has its own, quite different reality. Here it's pretend reality where people sing and dance, or are bitchy to each other.
The latter kind of programme seems to serve no purpose at all except to prove that there is drama in voyeurism, whereas the song and dance variety at least gives a chance for talent to flower.
That, in the world of Bollywood nepotism, is a small little step for democracy. Nonetheless, these shows are performance, not reality.
But Kisko Milega Cash promised to be different. The idea was that three contestants would be chosen to appear in each episode, to present their case as to why they needed the cash.
Then the judges would cross-examine them to get more details, finally voting for the one they thought deserved the prize of Rs5 lakh. The winner would ultimately be chosen by viewers sending in their votes by SMS. I was one of the two judges.
My first reaction was, wouldn't this be exploitative? Here would be a parade of people's miseries as one contestant after another sobbed out a hard luck story, how he needed money for a life-saving operation, and so on. We, like neutral umpires, would turn on our Tear Meters and announce our readings.
I hadn't counted on the wonders of human variety. The producers picked a range of people, so that presented before us were not just the hanky stories but also people with Needs.
Like the man in his 70s who had missed out on his honeymoon and now wanted to take his wife of 50 years on a foreign jaunt. There was a young woman who wanted a golden potty.
After all, her reasoning went, you get your best thoughts when you're sitting on it.
Wouldn't a golden one improve the quality of ideas? I voted for her, but it was tough choosing her over the man who wanted to gold-plate his car.
The only car in the world which wouldn't depreciate in value, he said. A third degree karate black belt wanted to import practice dummies his pupils could clobber to their hearts' content.... So it went, a veritable cornucopia of wishes that weren't yet horses. Not surprisingly, I enjoyed doing the show. You can watch it from tonight on Star One at 10 pm.
This column is being written from Kenya which has its own version of a reality show. When friends heard I was going there, their reactions were of horror. "You are travelling now?" one friend asked.
"Hope you're taking along a bullet proof vest." The reference, of course, was to the political problems in the country, which resulted in rioting that killed many. An agreement has now been reached between the two warring factions, the government of President Kibaki and the opposition led by Raila Odinga. Everyone is just relieved that a solution has been found.
Yet neither party seems to be aware of the havoc they have wrought on Kenya's economy. It occurred to me that politicians in India and Kenya are the same. They claim to look after the national interest whereas all they represent are narrow political ones whose only end is power.
Another similarity between what happened in Kenya and in the Raj Thackeray-inspired violence in Mumbai is how the media becomes an unwitting accomplice. Mumbai's police were incensed that some TV channels kept repeating footage of stray incidents of violence.
Similarly the media here made it sound like the whole of Kenya was engulfed in rioting, whereas only isolated pockets were affected. This calls for introspection by politicians and the media. We can forget about the former: politicians don't know the meaning of the word. As for the media, we can always hope.
