A look behind the scenes of Kaun Banega Crorepati

The show call was for 2.30. The audience is already stomping and pawing the ground outside much before that. They are there to see their God on television, and hopefully be seen too, if the camera catches them or if they get a chance to exchange words with him.

They are shooting the episode for October 2. Dancers in saffron, white and green, with enough bling to rival the arc lights, run through their paces. They are brisk, fast paced, practised.

“Emotion, I want you to feel the words,” the dance director tells them “why dont you lip sync?”

Between practice rounds, the girls and boys are restless. Noisy, even distracting. Then, they are ready for a take.

The lights come on, the camera, a long sweeping arm with a Cyclopean eye unfurls it length and snakes around. The audience en masse, watches, alert, just in case the camera should tilt its eye its way. The dancers do their thing, a dimunitive Gandhi look-alike in spotless dhoti walks through the sequence, looking somewhat bewildered. It is a nice touch, nonetheless. At least he will remind the younger watchers that the Mahatma existed!

The KBC set is loud, colourful. Lights blaze across, run in tiny points along the rectangular floor, and a series of screens show wavy images adding movement but no meaning. This is after all television, bringing make believe tamasha into living rooms across the country. A spectacle is mandatory. It reminds me of a temple on a festival day.

When Amitabh Bachchan walks in, the temple finds its deity.

The waiting crowd erupts, rising like a tsunami to welcome the quiz master with the thunder of their applause. Ever the showman, the deity turns human, and claps back at them. He is impartial, caring, ensuring that he looks at every segment of his audience, on either side of the stage.

His cobalt blue jacket and tasselled shoes are quite natty, his makeup almost invisible. And his eyes are alert. Under that cool exterior, it is obvious, his brain is on high alert. A pantheon of fans is watching him closely at every moment; though there is a whirlwind of activity around him, the audience eyes see him and only him. And Amitabh is aware, knowing it well. After all, this is the show’s seventh season.

In a black tent, away from the set, pandemonium of another sort reigns. Siddhartha Basu holds court here, as the technical masters monitor the live feeds from the many cameras, and mix the show as it unfurls. He has experienced this countless times before, but the blend of ease and alertness gives away his worry that anything can happen at any given moment.

In a show with the formidable reputation KBC has garnered, with an iconic host at the helm, nothing can be allowed to go wrong. Basu wears his responsibility like a cloak over the sleeveless jacket that he has pulled on over the long sleeved shirt and trousers, as the air conditioning blasts full on.

On stage, the dancers prepare for a ‘safety round’. As they wait to begin, Bachchan, standing quietly at the deep end of the stage , almost unnoticed, comes into his own.

“No one is even looking at me, " he says, almost murmuring. But the baritone voice is not easy to ignore, and the response is a round of appreciative applause.

The dancers exit. The show takes on from where it left off at the earlier shoot schedule, with a primary school teacher perched on three cushions in the chair opposite Bachchan.

The warmth is natural, the charm instantaneous. With a deft mixture of banter and tension, the host and guest create a recipe that has been tried tested and found satisfying.

The contestant, Supriya, has watched enough episodes to play along, she trades praises and reads out an effusive poem, making Bachchan almost blush with embarrassment. But her IQ falls short of his questions, and she has to climb down from the chair clutching her cheque for 6,50,000 rupees.

But it is as they go into the next round, that the fun really begins. Bachchan suffers the ministrations of the makeup man, adjusts and readjusts the cravat to ensure both comfort and continuity, and banters his way through the round called Fastest Finger First.

Technical glitches stop-start the round, there are retakes; he never loses his cool though, responding obediently to instructions on his headset.

The huge screens on the backdrop transform into a semi-rural scene as a montage of visuals from the life of, Rohit, the young man sitting facing Bachchan unfolds. He is from Agra, a student, who has the fastest mind prompting his finger from among those chosen to compete for the place he has won justly, and by a wide margin.

He tells his host that he has wanted to occupy the chair he is on since he was 12. It led him to serious study, to a love of books and a habit of holding conversations with an alter ego called ‘Sony’.

Bachchan makes capital out of this, speaking to the alter ego repeatedly. The gallery is suitably amused, and the contestant takes it sportingly. As does his father in the stalls.

Finally, the round ends, cheque after cheque has been signed away, and when he is done and decides to give up, Rohit is richer by 12,50,000 rupees. He seems pleased. Bachchan even more so.

A few technical formalities later, everyone is ready to wrap up. Basu has fluttered on and off stage, requesting retakes at times, Bachchan patiently obliging. Then it is time for photographs, individually with the contestants, some special guests…

The battery of assistants heave a sigh, one more episode is safely done with!

Bachchan has been on the floor, the fastest mind on the floor, ready with repartee and questions, playing it with the help of teleprompter sometimes, by ear at other times, but his day is not done.

Without a second thought he stands section by section against the audience rows, letting photos be taken so each in the audience can see himself with his star on the show’s Facebook page.

Some questions fly at him…why do you look shorter here than in films…he responds to that saying because the show is bigger than anyone, and that the height of the audience stalls changes perspective.

A woman asks ,“Why don’t you talk to me”, " I am”, he retorts, smiling. The applause continues.

Later, in a quiet space, when I ask him what he thinks is the best thing about KBC, Bachchan responds gravely,“It highlights the life of people who we in the city forget exist; it gives them a chance to shine, to belong, to improve their lives,” he says.

And though he says the reason he does the show is " because Sony wants me to", the reason for and root of his passion, his patience and his energy in the show shines clear.