Live on Air

The red light blinked on.

“Smile,” someone whispered from behind the camera.

I did.

India was watching.

The host’s voice boomed across the glass-walled studio.

“Twelve men. One house. One million rupees. Eleven of them are gay. One is straight. Can the truth survive thirty days under twenty-four-hour surveillance?”

Applause erupted.

I stood under the lights, heart pounding, palms damp inside my jacket pockets. The air smelled like hairspray and ambition.

And then he walked in.

Arjun Mehra.

The crowd reacted instantly - gasps, cheers, phones lifted in unison. Even I felt it, that collective intake of breath when a face already famous appears in front of you, somehow more real and unreal at the same time.

Bollywood’s quiet heartthrob.

Critically acclaimed.

Publicly vocal ally.

Rumored. Never confirmed.

He smiled like he knew exactly how dangerous that was.

I swallowed.

This was not part of my plan.

Diary Room – Day 1

They asked me why I joined.

I said, “For the experience.”

That’s the first lie.

The truth is simpler: one million rupees can buy silence, space, freedom. Things I’ve never had much of.

They asked if I was gay.

I said yes.

That’s the second lie.

The house was beautiful in that expensive, artificial way- open kitchen, indoor pool, bedrooms with no locks. Cameras everywhere. Even the mirrors felt like they were watching.

Introductions were loud, theatrical. Everyone performing their version of queerness like it was a resume.

When it was Arjun’s turn, the room went quiet.

“I’m an actor,” he said, casual. “You probably know me.”

Laughter.

“I joined because… I’m tired of pretending in real life. Thought I’d try pretending honestly.”

A perfect answer.

Too perfect.

Our eyes met for half a second.

He looked away first.

Diary Room – Arjun (Broadcast Clip)

People think being famous means you’re brave.

It doesn’t.

It just means more people are watching when you’re scared.

That night, after dinner, I found him alone by the pool.

No cameras nearby—at least none obvious.

“You okay?” he asked, like we’d known each other longer than six hours.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t talk much.”

“I listen.”

He smiled. “That’s rare in this house.”

Up close, he didn’t look like a movie star. He looked tired. Beautiful, yes - but in a human way. Like someone who hadn’t slept properly in years.

“Do you think they’ll find him?” he asked.

“The straight guy?”

He nodded.

“I think,” I said carefully, “he’s probably terrified.”

Arjun laughed softly. “Aren’t we all?”

Something shifted.

Diary Room – Day 2

I didn’t plan on liking him.

That’s the third lie.

The first vote happened faster than I expected.

Accusations flew. Tone mattered more than truth.

Leo was voted out.

He cried. Ugly, honest tears.

When he left, Arjun stared at the door long after it shut.

“You okay?” I asked later.

“They loved him yesterday,” he said. “Today they erased him.”

That was when I realized something dangerous.

Arjun wasn’t playing to win.

He was playing to survive.

That night, lying in my bed, the ceiling camera blinking softly, one thought refused to leave my head:

If he’s gay, he’s hiding something.

If he’s straight…

So am I.

And if that’s true-

Then this game isn’t about money anymore.

It’s about which lie costs us everything.