Every man (and woman) has a limit: we may kid ourselves, but sooner or later the soul cries out for release. Mine was reached the day that fear factor descended to emptying bucket loads of frogs into locked glass coffins (with people bound hand and foot inside by the way).
Frogs, lizards and the rest of their creepy crawly brethren give me the heebie geebies, and not even Akki can help overcome that nightmarish sensation. Hence, I have resolved that henceforth, I will be content to cheer on the contenders from afar, no longer forming one of the crowd that watches Khatron Ke Khiladi nightly.
It may be that my gelatinous innards are not shared by the larger public- indeed my own brother has lived happily with a flat mate who kept a succession of slimy creatures as pets- starting with an iguana, and ending with a cobra that shed its skin every so often, the smell prompting the boys to clean up the mess in their room. (Genetics is so hit or miss!)
It may be that the larger public is angered by my weak decision- in this day of looking as weakness as opportunity and opportunity as potential strength. But, I have decided to put my foot down- after all, as the famous Bollywood song puts it ‘Kuch to log kahenge’.
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