God and Bigg Boss

Neither exists, but both are brought into being by common consensus

What is most interesting a month after the start of the latest season of Bigg Boss—the reality show on Colors in which a bunch of half-celebrities are cooped inside a house with cameras recording every moment—is not how it slowly bares the true character of its contestants. It is not the bursts of rage and bullying of Armaan Kohli. It is not the doomed and possibly fake romance of Gauahar Khan and Kushal Tandon. It is not the late realisation of Kamya Punjabi, a potential winner given the show’s history of crowning TV serial stars, that she has made a strategic mistake by allying with the wrong camp. Or the various artifices of each and every one of them. The most extraordinary thing about Bigg Boss is that Bigg Boss does not exist.

On an average day in the Bigg Boss House, whenever there is a necessity or dispute, you can see the contestants promptly put their mouths to the microphone and ask Bigg Boss for redressal. They speak to Him as the Master of the House and someone everpresent looking over them. This is how the audience too relates to the show. They all know that Bigg Boss is an idea. He is represented by a voice, but even this voice addresses him in the third person. Yet, despite this full disclosure, it becomes evident at some point that, as if by a gradual sleight of psychology, he has turned into a real person for everyone. Something comes into existence where nothing was by the consensus of all interested parties.

This is fascinating because in early societies, before secular and written laws appeared as guides, the concept of God must have firmed up in some similar fashion. In a chaotic environment, it is in everyone’s interest to have order, but there needs to be an entity to provide it. The only human way is by force of arms (that would be the king’s) or through obedience to an unknown superior force to whom all can be obedient.

But while such strange faith in such a non-existent monitor prevents anarchy, what it does not is make for better human beings. They continue to do whatever is necessary in their own interest but in the name of God. You can witness that in the Bigg Boss House too. The broad guidelines are maintained by the fear of punishment, but within those limits, it is a free play of machinations. Aggressive ones like Kohli try to establish their alpha male authority while others team up to keep him tame. The idea of good-and-evil or ethical-and-unethical applies only as long as it does not threaten survival.

Like God, Bigg Boss’ influence is overarching within his universe. Since neither exists, their will is exercised by agents: in the show’s case, its producers. This includes throwing housemates who are boring out. This can be done either by omission—reducing the screen time of contestants until viewers don’t vote for him/her; or by commission—merely by saying someone didn’t get enough votes since there is no independent audit of who got how much that is ever revealed to the public. Week after week, you can be almost certain that the contestant who gets the least airtime on the show is also going to get the boot. The contestants have also figured it out. It is incumbent on them to provide spectacle to stay on and there are only so many ways to do it with a bunch of strangers—romance, pick fights, form tribes, have a nervous breakdown, be nasty, show repentance and so on. Almost all of them know that what they do could mean courting a bad image, but that is also the Faustian pact one makes with God for an extended life.

There is no good or bad publicity. To be remembered badly is still renown; to be forgotten is death.

About The Author

Madhavankutty Pillai

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