Ram - Rearview My Roadies Journey

REARVIEW

My Roadies Journey

Raghu Ram is the executive producer of the popular MTV shows Roadies and Splitsvilla. He lives in Mumbai.

REARVIEW

My Roadies Journey

Raghu Ram

Published by

Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd 2013

7/16, Ansari Road, Daryaganj

New Delhi 110002

Sales centres:

Allahabad Bengaluru Chennai

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Kolkata Mumbai

Copyright Raghu Ram 2013

Edited by Janaki Viswanathan.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

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Contents

COLOSCEUM CREW ROOM, PUNE

31 OCTOBER 2012, 11.30 A.M.

R aghu! Raghu! Raghu!

A steady chant. Im pacing the big, bare crew room at Laxmi Lawns, Pune. Outside, its a lovely crisp morning. The door is shut tight but I hear them out in the halls anyway. Raghu! Raghu! Raghu! The chant grows louder, then wanes, but as I slip on my jacket, its back. Raghu! Raghu! Raghu!

In the hall, Im told, among the other 1,400-odd Roadie hopefuls, there is one kid, a girl, who looks like the quintessential Roadiehair cropped close to her skull and gelled into a mohawk, Converse shoes, a black Goth T-shirt ripped just deep enough to show off the tattoo on the neck: a flock of birds flying down her back; then there is a boy who resembles a stockier version of me, complete with a shaved head, goatee, aviators and pierced ears. Another is sporting one white eye, perhaps a tribute to my get-up in the promos. Flattering? I dont know.

Raghu! Raghu! Raghu! The chanting continues.

Back in the crew room, Arjuna award-winning swimmer and special guest at the Pune auditions, Deepa Malik, all set in her military jacket, big black boots and wheelchair smiles, Ten years and theyre still calling your name It must be a good feeling na? I pause for a minute and then shrug. Im not so sure. The door opens. I automatically duck to one side as a crew member walks in. Its an instinct born out of not wanting to be seen before Im ready for it.

Your left eyes grown smaller, he says by way of greeting. I check the mirror. Yeah, just two hours of sleep a day can do that to you. Its Season 10 of Roadies; the first city, the first day, the first audition and Im already bloody tired. Itll get better, I tell myself. To be honest, I know it will. The eye, at least. The tiredness, maybe not.

Exactly twenty minutes later, I can hear Rannvijay walk up to the stage. Correction: I can hear the crowd as he walks up to the stage. In the crew room, the inimitably effervescent and absolutely crazy Bani Judge squeals in imitation of the female crowdOh my God, its Rannvijay, I cant believe itbefore her voice is drowned out by the chaos outside. Hes got a bad throat and weve asked him to keep it soft but I know he wont. True to form, he screams anyway, and gets full-throated cries in response. He likes to feed off the crowd.

The announcements are made. This year, Roadies Xmy team, made up of former Roadieswill be pitted against Rannvijays team of new contestants. The idea is to make us compete with each other. Yeah right, giggles Deepa, as if you two will ever fight. I grin in reply as the door opens again and a crew member pops his head in, nodding. Thats it. Its time.

Im often asked what I feel at the exact moment I walk into an auditorium full of youngsters of all shapes and sizes calling my name. Honestly, I dont know. What I do know is that Im working. Im making my show. Everything else is a by-product. What I know is that Im tired as hell and Id love to be able to curl up and sleep. And sleep some more. As I walk to the stage, these thoughts in my head, I remember an earlier season, an earlier auditionit was Hyderabad, I thinkand the look of wonder in my wife Sugandhas eyes as she recounted the incident in her usual animated manner: One minute Raghus walking alongside us, complaining, ranting in this low, beat-up voice, No, Kuhu, I cant handle this anymore, Im too tired, the next minute, we hear the crowd cheering. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he starts runningall the way to the stage. The crowd is screaming and yelling and this guy, who up until a moment ago, had looked so down and out, is running. Whats that, shed turned to ask me. Whats that, I ask myself. Not me, for sure.

I walk out quickly, straight to the stage where Rannvijay is still working his audience. Looking around at them, I dont smile. Now they start screaming for me: louder, more aggressive screaming. I take the microphone and speak. They think they can impress me? Do Punes wannabe Roadies really think they have it in them to beat the experienced ones this season? They REALLY think so? Less than a minute in and the cheers for me sort of wane, the cheers for Rannvijay turn louder. I stifle a smile. Im pretty good at making people turn against me like this.

Jump cut to 1 p.m. We are now waiting for the group discussions to begin. Another crew member walks in holding up a bag, grinning from ear to earthis seasons spoils of war so far: gifts sent or retrieved from wannabe contestants. The rest of the crew gathers around the bed as he tips it over. A T-shirt pops out, blinding white with a front that says: I Raghu. Okay, that I did not expect. Flip it, flip it, says the crew member, so I do. The back reads: I want to spend the night with Raghu. A loud cheer breaks out in the room and I cant help but smile. Im SO keeping this one. What do you knowthey dont all hate me! And then I see the other item retrieved: a click knife. Ah, well. Spoke too soon.

Cut to three-odd weeks later to an icy-cold night in November. It is past 11 p.m., just before the Chandigarh auditions and Rannvijay and I are at a nightclub. As we enter, two dressed-up teens clutch each others hands looking wide-eyed. So afraid to miss a thing, they dont even blink as Rannvijay walks by, ahead of me. The next moment, they exchange a look of pure ecstasy and scream in tandem. Then I walk by. The screams die instantly. Cautious smiles now, the kind youd give your fifth-grade teacheror principal. Later I see them approaching my table, phone cameras held in hand, as they begged me, pleasejust one photo, Raghu! I shake my head as security keeps them at bay. They continue. Please, please! We lied at home and came here just to meet you guys! Please! I relent and say cheese. I dont get it, though. Whats on their mind? What do they think of me?

The next morning, however, standing in front of a 2,500-plus crowd at the Indradhanush Auditorium, Panchkula, I dont smile. I just stand there quiet, right at the edge of the stage, counting the seconds. I see the faces in the crowd, the expressions. Some screaming their throats raw, some watching me with unnerved smiles, others simply sitting quietly, wondering, contemplating Id give a penny to know their thoughts right now.

How about the kid who goes through the trouble of registering himself twice, so he can get into two group discussions at Pune, because thats how desperate he is to get through? What of this crazy kid in Chandigarh, who offered me ten lakh rupees as a bribe on the form, and now sits before me, grinning like crazy, trying to convince me he wrote that only so hed come this far; I can see his hands are clammy, his left eye twitches, hes almost expecting to be thrown out. Why though? I dont ask but I dont disappoint either. I crack his goggles with perfect precision, circle him like hes prey, tip him off the chair, but he doesnt flinchnor does he stop talking. I get mad and throw him out. The door slams after him and I cant help but laugh.