Hmm. It's a question worth five million rupees. What would you be willing to do on national television to win this huge amount? Going by what happens on reality shows, quite a lot actually. For example, recently in one episode of NBC's Fear Factor, I saw contestants having to eat platefuls of stuff in which the only recognisable things were raw kidneys and intestines of a fairly large beast and live maggots, each about the length and thickness of my little finger. Swallowing before thoroughly chewing each mouthful of this unimaginably delicious provender would lead to instant disqualification. Naturally, nobody swallowed - because the prize money was $50,000. That's just Rs 2.3 million. The fact that the contestants were all very attractive female models for whom money shouldn't be difficult to come by is irrelevant because as the very wise Wallis Simpson once said, "You can never be too rich or too thin." Or too famous, I might add.

Fortunately for all of us, things are a lot more, er, palatable on Bigg Boss, (other than some of the lady contestants' often minimalist clothing that gives itsy-bitsy a bad name and leaves very little to the imagination), chota beta of the international hit reality show, Big Brother. The first Big Brother, the brainwave of Dutchman, John De Mol, went on to become a hit in over 70 countries and put the man on Forbes' 500 richest persons in the world. The Indian version proclaims to be the 'baap of all daily soaps'. Is it really?

Let's see now. Thirteen people shut away from the world for 100 days with nothing to do but conspire how to kick out the other 12 housemates and win the prize money of Rs 5 million. Now that has to be a potent devil's workshop. Which it is. Bitching and backbiting that would make any kitty party session look like a bhajan mandali, the men beating the women by points. Politicking that would make Machiavelli commit hara-kiri. Loyalties shifting and friend turn into foe and back again with an unctuous smoothness that would shame our most seasoned netajis. All happening in the shadow of the 'confession' room, where each contestant goes every day to bare his/her soul to Bigg Boss and to the nation and every Sunday to make that weekly, secret, vicious twist of the dagger - the nomination of a housemate for eviction. And in case we start to think, "Holy cow, what a nasty bunch of critters," every now and then, they weep and beat their chests about how they're not in this for the money (yeah, right, you just like the Tang that they serve here) and how 'waaaaaah-I-wanna-go-home-to-my-mummy'.