Never has there been a reality show that makes you pause mid-episode, check your account balance, and wonder whether you have accidentally been living in poverty all along. Netflix’s latest offering, Desi Bling, is proudly that show.
Inspired by Dubai Bling, the series dives into Dubai’s ultrarich Indian social circles, where luxury is not a lifestyle any more; it is a personality trait. Unaware of PM Modi’s directive, gold and extravagant cars are discussed like normal people discuss groceries. Everybody owns lavish businesses, couture, diamonds, imported pets, and marriages hanging by a thread.
The show opens with Satish and Tabinda Sanpal, who immediately establish the tone of the series. Tabinda casually reveals she owns 40 kgs of gold, and how they gifted a pink Rolls-Royce to their daughter on her first birthday. The party had the toddler wear a 24-carat gold dress with a gold pacifier. And somewhere here, your middle-class soul starts questioning.
But just when you are busy envying their wealth, Desi Bling pulls the rug from under your feet. Tabinda talks about how her husband, like a ‘typical Hindu man’, believes a wife touching her husband’s feet every morning brings more Lakshmi into the house. Suddenly, beneath all the diamonds and imported luxury, you realise money can upgrade your wardrobe, not your mindset.
That becomes the running theme of the show. Conversations around loyalty, insecurity and having another child to “fix” emotional distance reveal cracks no amount of gold can hide. There is also an underlying acceptance that some women continue tolerating unhappy marriages and philandering partners because the lifestyle is simply too luxurious to walk away from.
Then comes the show’s biggest attraction — Karan Kundrra and Tejasswi Prakash. Their relationship has been celebrated online for years, and Desi Bling knows exactly how to cash in on their obsession. In a filmy climax, Karan finally proposes to Tejasswi — a moment the TejRan fandom has collectively manifested for years. But instead of feeling intimate, the proposal feels suspiciously camera-perfect, like the couple intentionally saved this milestone for a reality show finale.
And that is the weird thing about Desi Bling: every emotional moment feels heavily aware of its lighting setup. Even Tejasswi’s exaggerated accents and dramatic “shut upppp” after every sentence start feeling unintentionally hilarious. Everybody looks like they attended rehearsals before filming and specifically waited to have showdowns in front of the camera.
And yet, that performative energy somehow becomes part of the fun. This is a show where a goat casually appears inside an LV bag, where Karan jokes that every time Pamela Serena enters a room, he can hear Komolika’s background music playing. There are also unintentionally funny moments where celebrities like Tamannaah Bhatia and Sania Mirza get awkwardly pulled into gossip sessions. And between the fillers, Botox, extra-white veneers and aggressively branded wardrobes, Desi Bling starts to get addictive.
The real entertainment, however, comes from the gossip. These people do not communicate like emotionally evolved adults. They communicate like neighbourhood aunties who accidentally discovered class. Everybody discusses everybody else behind their backs; friendships collapse every episode, and confrontations happen with the energy of Ekta Kapoor serials.
Another couple — Dyuti and Iryna’s marriage track — is particularly frustrating because it exposes the regressive gender dynamics hiding beneath all the luxury. Dyuti constantly talks about how his wife should become a “better mother” and “better wife,” even saying the kids would “die in two days” if she stopped feeding them. Sir, you are also their parent!!
The brand-name dropping also deserves separate screen credits. YSL, Gucci, Lamborghini, Chanel, Tesla, Mercedes, Bugatti, Fendi, Rolls-Royce — the labels arrive so frequently that if someone paid me for every mention, I could probably move to Dubai myself. At one point, someone proudly says, “We don’t go to Bollywood, Bollywood comes to us,” which perfectly captures the energy of Dubai’s elite circles — flashy, pretentious and constantly social climbing.
To give Desi Bling some credit, amid all the gossip sessions and designer labels, the show also touches upon vulnerable conversations. Sana Sajan opening up about her cancer journey becomes one of the rare moments where the glamour drops. Similarly, sisters Lailli and Alizeh Mirza — raised by a single mother and self-made in many ways — come across as far more mature and grounded than most people around them.
And despite all this chaos, Desi Bling remains ridiculously binge-worthy. I started watching it casually on my phone before moving to my television because the scale almost demands a bigger screen. At times, it genuinely feels like watching Bigg Boss in 4K.
But beneath all the glitter lies a strangely melancholic show about emotionally unfulfilled people trying to accessorise their loneliness. For all its luxury, the show quietly exposes how money can buy parties, proximity and Birkin bags — but not friendship, loyalty or emotionally healthy relationships.
That is why Desi Bling leaves you feeling both jealous and grateful at the same time. Yes, you want the cars, the clothes and the mansions. But after hours of watching all the scandals and fakeness, you also start appreciating the quiet luxury of peace. Because somewhere between the diamonds and dysfunction, Desi Bling accidentally makes normal life look aspirational.
– Ends
