And the nominees are:

Dolly Bindra: “Kisiko anda milta hain, kisiko anda naheen milta hain, isne do aande khaayein isne ek aande khayen”,  says a contestant on Big Boss IV capturing perfectly the curse of the human condition, torn between the base instincts of hunger, lust and the desire for eggs, the last mentioned being an appropriate metaphor for them both. And if there is anyone who perfectly captures Big Boss and reality shows in general, it has to be Dolly Bindra, Sushmita Sen’s true ideal for “woman of substance”.

For long, Big Boss has experimented with the tried-and-tested formula of sidey starlets and wannabe models/actors and their fake romances but this time they alighted on the perfect guest, who crystallizes perfectly Big Boss’s  biggest viewership demographic—large, aggressive foul-mouthed aunties with a penchant for hyper-drama. Whether it be reacting to Asmit Patel’s  fake “ubercool” “Talk to the hand” with a gusty “Talk to your hand kya, hand aapne **** main daal”  and “finger daalna [Asmit's MMS partner's] *** main jaake” or her writhing on the ground,  claiming to having been possessed by a ghost (perhaps a person inside her trying to get out) Ms. Bindra has been incomparable, setting the bar high, way way high for people to follow in successive iterations of Big Boss.

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Being in India out of home-base posting has been infrequent. But that does not mean I dont have things to write about. So here in a post, I jot down everything I have been wanting to say for the last few weeks in more or less an unstructured way.

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Mile Sur Mera Tumhara is, without doubt, one the most iconic symbols of late 80s Indian popular culture. Some love it for the music. Some for the visuals. Some for the memories associated with it—of father coming back from work as it played on the TV or everyone rushing into the living room to catch a then-rare glimpse of Amitabh Bachchan.

And some, like me, for the sight of  P K Banerjee (who gave Bengalis such enduring phrases as “Dui Milan-r Milan” while presenting Italian League soccer on DD) wiping his bald spot as he and Arun Lal get down from a metro train, with the same cool swagger that would later inspire Quentin Tarantino in “Reservoir Dogs”.

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Shan, a regular commenter here, posts a link on his Facebook page, an extract from a “travelogue” titled “To Hellholes and Back” [Link] which in essence says that India is the “most annoying place in the world to be a tourist” with “sleazy dishonest” merchants, of the type that presumably cannot be found anywhere else in the Milky way.

And if this piece of “hellhole” bit of writing was not enough of the imperial Macaulian “those poor annoying subhuman bastards” perspective of India for a week, we had insanely popular US talk show host Glenn Beck (who unfortunately calls him GB) on the cable news channel Fox News saying that India does not have flush toilets, their doctors graduate from their less-than-reputable institutes and that Ganges sounds to him like the name of a disease. [Link]

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A White tent in Monsoon Wedding style on the lawns of the White House. Music playing: Aja Nachle

Dr. Singh, the PM, ambles about.

Bill Clinton arrives.

“Hello there Dr. Singh. I had a favor to ask of you.”

Dr. Singh: “Oh Mr. Clinton, I thought you were not coming to the dinner.”

Bill: “See that’s the problem. That blasted wife of mine dragged me along—didnt want me to be alone with the new lady secretary I hired to look over my papers [wink]. Would it be possible for your country to invite Hillary over for like a week or two on some excuse?”

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With chapters of my book having come back with edits and with a new chapter I have been working on together with talking to the cover designer, I have been on a blog-break of late.

However when sensational things like Arundhati Roy justifying the reign of terror unleashed by the Naxals and Kamal Khan hurling a waterbottle at designer delicate-flower Rohit Verma (who weeps like somebody has died when asked to cook) on Big Boss Tritiyaa happen then I am forced to break the silence.

Sensational yes. Surprising no. After all both Ms. Roy and Mr. Khan push the envelope of outrageousness for the expressed purpose of self-promotion, a game known as Rakhiopoly wherein one is forced to continually raise the bar of provocativeness in order to keep oneself in the public gaze.

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Forget the Telgi stamp paper scandal.

The Tiwari stamp “locha” is “herewa”.

A few months ago, the state of Bihar rejoiced in the achievement of Manoj Tiwari, the great Bhojpuri singer and the host of “Chak De Bacche” (Michael Jackson’s favorite program), for being the first living Indian to be honored with an international stamp from the government of Netherlands.

Yes the same Manoj Tiwari who was covered here at RTDM for his Bihar pride song: “Hum Bihari dil baante bhola bhala, Humre ke neta sabke nachawe walah.”

And now it is Tiwari jo sabko nacha raahe hain.

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