'Reality' Shows=Real(Script+Acting)

Reality shows are as 'real' as the script around which the characters
play their parts!

How real are reality shows, really? After The Apprentice, many shows
have come out along the same lines. The shows usually go like this: A big famous guy at the top screaming at poor inidviduals looking to make a quick buck. At every episode one guy gets kicked off, then somebody finally wins. Memorable event - for the next two minutes. And whaddaya know, there's another show. After that a new-season.

I was watching one of those shows on TV yesterday, one I think about a bunch of wannabe master chefs apprenticing at a restaurant run by a very famous chef who just loves
being the most annoying perfectionist on earth. Damn the guy! All he
does on the show is yell, chuck saucepans at his pupils and make them
cry in the wine cellar, where of there's a camera waiting to tape all
the action.

The plot is pretty simple, there are twelve people, split into two
teams. These guys have to cook food in a restaurant run by the chef,
and make sure all the customers get their order correctly and of
course, the food has to be 'just perfect'. So, most of the time
they're preparing the same things over and over again, just because
the chief thought a risotto face mask would be a great morale booster.
Then again, there's the wonderful words of encouragement he hurls at
them. Here's a sample:

"You piece of f***in shit! Stop slobbering and get down to it! You
look at me when I'm talking to you. This is so F***ED up!"

There was one segment in the whole thing when, there was no audio for
about a minute and a half, thanks to all the swearing.

Think about it, how can you expect these guys when the only people
they can depend on are a a f***ed up coach and their roommates - whom,
by the way, they're trying to knock off as early as possible to stay
in the game. So, the pressure from within is pretty high? So, hysteria
and breakdowns are common.

Doesn't the anger, fear and resentment, pour out of them into the food
that they prepare. Just when you're thinking of strangling the chef
who is dumping the roast duck Ala Fontaine which you took half-an-hour
to prepare into the confines of the waste bin, you're preparing Chef's
Salad with Thousand Island Dressing, you accidentally slip in a very
hot chili, you'll probably end up choking the life outta the diner!
Then, the chef can strangle you!

So, how real are these reality shows? The camera usually focuses on
the person who gets eliminated in the end. So, towards the end, even
before they nominate the potential eliminants, you know who is gonna
go! So, confirming you're right is the only purpose of watching the
show. And these job-candidate kind of shows will appeal to you if you
enjoy watching people getting humiliated. (Funny, and I thought Simon
Cowell made American Idol bad enough!)

A few pictures of the monsoon. Check it out.

Mind you, these are only a prelude. Couldn't possibly shoot in the rain with dad's digicam unless I wanted to get into serious trouble.

When you're in the middle of a powercut, not many things you see outside make sense - a view from my window.

What do you think this could be? An interesting shape captured in the middle of a powercut.

My resting place bathed in lamplight.


The summer is relentless this year in Bangalore.

Friends seem to just slip through your fingers when you've just begun
to think "Hey. I'm getting to know this person." Everything seems
unprofitable and stale. Nothing seems doable. I just slump into a coma
these days, when I look at the pile of books lying on my desk. It's
not worth it, I tell myself. I'm usually content with re-reading a
nicely thumbed edition of Wodehouse. I laugh myself silly and when I'm
done reading, I think - God! What a waste of time!

My thoughts too seem too obscure for words. I go to college because
I'm expected to. Not because I want too. The thirst for knowledge that
was there before the first semester exams is gone. I feel too
saturated to care.

Dry weather and heat are ever-prevalent. Some rain, that's all I ask for.
I walk home everyday and the only companions I have - the leaves - dry
and restless right now seem to agree. All zest for life and learning,
along with my imagination, has vaporised in the summer heat.