New guests, English in the House.
By Bada Jasoos
WASHINGTON, DC: A loud announcement is heard in the house of Bigg Boss 8: “All conversation will be in English today. Please oblige, even if you want to abuse somebody in shudh desi bhasha, off-camera. We have some guests today.”
Enter Baba Rampal, carrying a plastic bag. He looks around slowly, stares at life-size posters of Kim Kardashian which are plastered on several walls. It’s from her recent photo shoot with Paper magazine. His attention is diverted by heavy panting coming from across the room. Puneet Issar jogs around in boxer shorts, turning a truck tire with a steel pipe in his hands.
“Who are you?” asks Issar of Rampal, running past him, keeping the tire in balance. Issar looks at the posters of Kardashian, and says with his trademark wide, lecherous looking smile: “We are waiting for her to come to the house. Diandra says this girl will be the captain of the house. I’m trying to get into shape, you know, to meet her.”
Rampal stares at Issar contemptuously, and then without a word, goes to the coffee table in the middle of the living room, and sits regally with his legs crossed in the middle of the table, as if about to deliver a sermon.
The other contestants look curiously at Rampal, with murmurs of ‘Who’s he?’ floating around the room.
Rampal looks around again slowly, at the contestants. He beckons to Sonali Raut, Diandra Soares and Minissha Lamba to step forward. When they step up, he gives each one of them a package from the plastic bag.
“What the f**k?! It’s a pregnancy-testing kit!” exclaims Sonali.
“I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to so paint your head red, blue, yellow, white and…purple, you will wish you never played this prank on me,” fumes Diandra.
Minissha is too stunned, just turns the package around, like a Rubix cube, as if she doesn’t know what it is.
Loud moans come from Upen Patel, who starts to slam his head against the floor, and writhe around.
“Damn you!” Upen says angrily to Baba Rampal, who stares at him contemptuously. “Damn you! you raided the luxury room, and couldn’t pick a hairbrush or comb for me, but all these, these pregnancy kits…” Upen breaks down now, starts sobbing loudly, as his hair stands straight up from his head, as if they are a crop of black needles.
“Heh, heh,” laughs Puneet, at Rampal. “You have a sense of humor, my friend.” Whispers in his ears: “I’ll take you to my next party yaar. I’m a party animal.”
Rampal fixes his stare instead at Kardashian’s poster.
Somebody can be heard singing softly in the room: ‘Babieee, come to meee, I’m all yours to love, and to cherishhh.”
Issar grunts, and growls: “Woh launda, that guy, he is still going on. He was trying to climb the walls of the house. So I caught him, tied him up, and locked him in the ‘jail’. But saala, maanta he nahin hain.”
Gautam Gulati breaks in: “Puneet sir, that’s enough. We can’t treat guests like that. I’m going to free him.”
Goes to the ‘jail’ area of the House, and frees Kanye West, who emerges singing the same lines. He goes quickly to the poster of Kardashian, and on his knees: “Kimmy babieee, come back to me. Why did you lie to me that you are going to India? What wrong did I do? Where are you” starts to croon again: ‘Babieee, come to meee, I’m all yours to love, and to cherishhh.”
The others stare at him aghast. Enter Salman Khan. Takes a look at the poster of Kardashian, ignores Kanye, and immediately gets into his Dabangg pose, and starts to dance in front of the poster as the music of ‘Hood, Hood, Dabangg” starts.
Kanye looks at Salman, shakes his head in disbelief.
“Bro, I respect Indians. But let me tell you something. I’m not in the hood, and for goodness sake’s man! I quit all that gang banging a long time ago. You don’t need to remind me of that now, and here…Ok, now tell me, since you seem to be the boss of the house, where is my Kimmy babieee?”
Salman continues to dance, getting really into the groove, pulling at the top of his trousers in sequenced moves. Gautam Gulati joins in with a tribal dance of his own. Ali Quli Mirza starts to dance salsa-style, winking at Kardashian’s poster.
Salman finally stops, giving a winning smile with a flourish of his hands. His trousers fall down. The music stops. Kanye is at the foot of the coffee table where Rampal sits regally. Rampal looks sternly at Kanye and then gives him a pregnancy-testing kit.
Kanye shakes his head in disbelief again: “Bro, I think I made a mistake coming to India. I thought you were Deepak Chopra’s cousin, man. Anyway, man, too late man, for all this. North West was born five months ago.”
Puneet suddenly loses control of the truck tire, which starts to roll at speed towards the coffee table. Rampal loses his cool, looks on anxiously and then suddenly gets up and bolts towards the exit door of the house. Outside, the Haryana police are waiting with handcuffs. He had run away from jail. Kanye also runs out of the house, with a wail: “Babieee, I’m coming.”
Inside the house, the walls carrying Kardashian’s poster crumbles and breaks into powder. The weight of Kardashian’s rump proves too much for the wall.
(This story is a work of satire, fictitious, and part of The American Bazaar’s Bollywood Satire section)