I’m a skeptic, and, by default, reason is my best friend.
As I ride into EVP film city near Poonamallee at the stroke of dawn, after being invited to spend a day locked inside the Bigg Boss House, doubts creep in. For starters, I’d never bothered to watch the wildly popular Tamil version of the show hosted by actor Kamal Haasan. So popular, in fact, that it is returning for a third season this Sunday. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder — “Could all of the drama be true? It is possible for some of the conflicts to be scripted. It is a TV show, after all.”
Meet and greet
I’m informed that I’d have to wear a blindfold before entering the house. But before that, I need to go through a checkpoint, one where the crew strips you of all personal belongings — most importantly, the one gadget you cannot afford to be without, the mobile phone.
Now for the authentic experience to be complete, the house needs housemates. And so, I had 14 others — peers from various media, some whom I knew, some whom I’d been acquainted with, and many whom I didn’t know about — for company. The blindfold is off, and the house comes into view. Painted in what appears to be sherwood green, the house looks to have drawn inspiration from erstwhile Chettinad architecture. There’s a jail cell abutting the door that lets you enter the house, and I’m told by my well-informed companions that it is used to ‘punish’ housemates for wrongdoing. There’s a swimming pool, and a few chairs laid out on the lawn, perhaps for use during those rare cloudy days in Chennai. This was not one of those days, and we scurry for shade the moment we enter. “There’s no gym!”, a YouTuber housemate exclaims. “There’s still time for the show to air. They will add it. Look, even the artwork on the walls are incomplete,” a senior housemate responds.
A task to enter the house
Curiosity took over, and I start to explore the lawn. I count a dozen cameras, and, in the process, clumsily knock over a lamp on the walkway. You know the moment when you try to tiptoe past a group of relatives you wish to avoid, but you end up making a noise and... yes, that’s what it felt like. Immediately, there are calls to throw me in jail for my actions.
The house looks to have drawn inspiration from erstwhile Chettinad architecture
As if on cue, a voice echoed around the lawn. “Welcome to Bigg Boss !” It was the voice of a man with so deep a throat that Bob Woodward may have to file a copyright infringement suit. And we are set the first task. Only 14 of us may proceed into the house. One person, whom we must select, will be thrown in jail! Naturally, all eyes fall on me. But good sense prevails, and a charged up radio jockey suggests an alternative. We enter a huddle, choose random numerals, and count 13 of us out. The fight now is down to the final two, and I am one of them.
“How about we settle this the traditional way... rock paper scissors?” I suggest. All agree on a best-of-three format, and I win the tiebreaker to escape by the finest of margins. The unlucky YouTuber friend is thrown in jail, but the Bigg Boss is kind. He lets us all into the house, after congratulating our ‘here to play’ spirit.
Under watchful eyes
The house’s interiors are a mix of spiritual, contemporary, and transport-themed. At the entrance is an Ayyanaar-inspired wall decor with a sickle that is equal measures creepy and frightening. There are wall painted portraits of Rajinikanth from Petta , Kamal Haasan from Virumaandi , and another of the late Sridevi (some disputed that the portrait was actor Shobana, we couldn’t really decide). A 1970s era bicycle sawed in half juts out of the wall near the door. There’s an old Matador van-themed kitchen work area. The bedroom has circus cycle wheels adorning the ceiling.
Part of the house decor features an old Matador van-themed kitchen work area
Oh, and there’s a crucial bit of design change. There’s no separation between the bedrooms. The bedroom is painted in gender neutral colours. Maybe, the show’s producers are betting on interpersonal relationships to flare up during the night, and they’ve got just the right number of cameras — 21 (all equipped with night vision) — to capture the scenes. Listening devices creep out of the ceiling in places you’re unlikely to spot, and not to forget the microphone you’re required to carry on your person at all times, except for when you need the privacy of a bathroom break.
In the living area, the housemates convene for a round of formal introductions. The conversation soon turns into banter. The youngest of the lot, at 21, was a YouTuber famous for an interesting show he performs with female actors from Kollywood. The butt of all our jokes, he takes it all chin up, like a sport, similar to his YouTube videos. Watching the commotion from above is the big brother, who identifies him as the best person to organise tasks around. First, he is asked to wear shades to gain the power of invisibility. He is instructed with one directive — as long as he sports the glass, he is invisible to other housemates, and he can irritate us at will. That sounds like music to the ears of a natural prankster, which he was, and which we found out, unfortunately, after suffering at his hands! His second task was to teach us all how to sing. What better way to pull the legs of a few time-worn journalists in the group than getting them to sing songs devoid of tune, and with dragged-out lyrics!
Walking out a ‘believer’
Fun aside, the housemates begin to experience withdrawal syndromes. Some randomly feel their pockets, only to realise their trusted companion isn’t on this ride. I find not knowing the time of the day hard. Having to do without a gadget is one thing; but to learn to tell time by looking up at the sun, and the night sky, is a caveman-level skill that we have erased from our genetic memories. While some consider being monitored 24/7 as the toughest part of being locked inside the house, I find that it is easy to slip into your comfort zone — and forget that the cameras exist — if you’re lucky enough to have housemates who are equally excited to be inside.
But it could have been fake comfort, considering nobody in the living world will ever get to see what we speak or how we look at each other, and, as a result, won’t be able to judge. There is no Kamal Haasan to give us all a publicised dressing down for our mistakes. There won’t be votes by the public on who gets to stay, and who gets to leave.
But I walk out, after an unforgettable 24 hours spent with strangers, a believer. I still don’t know if any part of it is scripted, but what I do realise is that conflicts can be engineered with something as simple as a task, because people are complex, and they possess complicated personalities. Spending one day is fun... spending 100 days probably not. The person who walks out the winner is simply someone who has managed to brave circumstances that would be mentally trying, even for the strong-willed among us.
