‘Heeramandi Showed India As A Sone Ki Chidiya’

‘The
primary
set
took
over
three
months
to
build
with
14,000-15,000
workers
employed
at
a
time.’

‘We
ensured
that
Mallikajaan’s
Shahi
Mahal
lived
up
to
its
name.’
‘One
zardosi
panel
cost
around
Rs
4
lakh;
the
one
with
the

kalpavriksh
was
around
Rs
5
lakh.’

Amit
Ray
and

Subrata
Chakraborty
are
familiar
names
in
Hindi
film
circles.
The
National
Award-winning
art
directors
and
production
designers
have
several
period
extravaganzas
to
their
credit,
including
Vishal
Bhardwaj’s

Haider
and

Rangoon,
Meghna
Gulzar’s

Raazi
and

Sam
Bahadur,
and
Sanjay
Leela
Bansali’s

Padmaavat,
Gangubai
Kathiawadi
and
more
recently,

Heeramandi.

While
the
Netflix
series
has
drawn
its
share
of
criticism
for
certain
performances
and
even
a
somewhat

filmi
and
flimsy
plotline,
the
sets,
props
and
costumes
have
turned
it
into
an
eye-catching
spectacle.

“Heeramandi
is
more
of
a
man’s
fantasy
rather
than
a
real
world,
a
distinction
that
many
detractors
fail
to
understand,”
Ray
and
Chakraborty
tells



Rediff.com
Senior
Contributor

Roshmila
Bhattacharya.

We
were
to
build
just
one
set,
but
we
ended
up
making
40-45
sets

We
started

Heeramandi
last
year,
in
January-February,
while
simultaneously
working
on
Rajkumar
Hirani’s

Dunki.

Initially,
the
idea
was
to
build
one
primary
set,
then
hand
over
the
project
to
someone
else.

Back
then
even
Sanjay
(writer-producer-director
Sanjay
Leela
Bhansali)
sir
was
supposed
to
direct
just
one
episode
before
passing
on
the
baton
to
one
of
his
assistants.

But
we
ended
up
making
40-45
sets
and
dressing
up
six-seven
acres
of
land.

Sunil
Maidan
near
Mumbai’s
Film
City
studio
on
which
many
of
Sanjay
sir’s
sets
have
been
built,
including

Padmaavat
and

Gangubai
Kathiawadi
for
which
we
did
the
production
design,
was
home
for

Heeramandi
too.

One
zardosi
panel
cost
us
around
Rs
4
lakh

The
biggest
challenge
we
faced
was
that
there
were
few
references
since
we
couldn’t
visit
the
real
Heera
Mandi
in
the
walled
city
of
Lahore
and
had
to
rely
primarily
on
the
Internet
for
research.

Not
that
it
would
have
helped
because
our

Heeramandi
is
a
period
series
set
before
Partition
and
has
little
resemblance
to
the
Heera
Mandi
of
today
which
is
more
like
the
red
light
district
of
Pakistan.

Back
then,

tawaifs
were
courtesans,
well
versed
in
arts
and
culture,
who
hosted
royalty
and
lived
extravagantly,
which
is
why
the
area
around
Lahore
fort
was
called
the
Shahi
Mohallah
or
the
‘Royal
Neighbourhood’.

We
ensured
that
Mallikajaan’s
Shahi
Mahal
lived
up
to
its
name.

One
zardosi
panel
cost
us
around
Rs
4
lakh;
the
one
with
the

kalpavriksh
was
around
Rs
5
lakh.

Sanjay
sir
has
a
grand
vision
and
we
had
to
bring
his
larger-than-life,
lavishly-mounted
world
to
the
screen
with
his
signature
style.

But
like

Devdas
is
not
a
true
representation
of
Bengal’s
culture,

Heeramandi
too
is
more
a
man’s
fantasy
rather
than
a
real
world,
a
distinction
that
many
detractors
fail
to
understand.

The
primary
set
took
over
three
months
to
build

We
worked
day
and
night
because
back
then
Sanjay
sir
wanted
to
start
shooting
immediately;
the
shoot
was
later
delayed
because
of
the
dates
of
artistes.

But
we
finished
our
work,
which
included
the
Shahi
Mahal,
Khwabgah
where
Fareedan
rules,
Nawab
Tajdar
Baloch’s
two
homes,
the
library,
the
market
square,
the
masjid,
along
with
umpteen
rooms
in
the
palaces
within
the
deadline
given.

The
primary
set
took
over
three
months
to
build
with
14,000-15,000
workers
employed
at
a
time
and
around
14-15
assistants
supervising
them.

Once
that
was
in
place,
the
changeovers
were
easier
and
faster,
with
one
part
of
the
set
turning
into
Alamzeb’s
room
and
another
the
central
hall
where
Bibbojaan
performs
her
last
dance
and
Alamzeb
makes
her
debut
as
a

tawaif
before
she
is
interrupted
by
news
of
Tajdar’s
death.

The
most
difficult
set
was
Khwaabgah

Besides
erecting
the
sets,
we
also
had
to
dress
them
up.

Nothing
was
factory
bought,
each
chandelier
was
made
on
the
set
and
every
wall
hand
painted.

The
etchings
on
glass
and
the
carvings
on
the
pillars
are
all
real
and
not
computer
generated.

The
most
difficult
set
was
undoubtedly
Khwaabgah.

For
the
flooring,
we
used
marble
and
each
stone
was
cut
piece
by
piece.

In
a
top
shot
of
Fareedan’s
room
you
can
see
the
intricate
flooring
and
the
wall
panels.

The
architecture
in

Padmaavat,
Gangubai
and

Kalank
is
different

Sanjay
sir
has
seen

Mughal-e-Azam
innumerable
times,
he
knows
every
frame
and
would
give
us
examples
from
K
Asif’s
epic
extravaganza
during

Padmaavat,
Gangubai
Kahthiawadi
and

Heeramandi.

But
nothing
was
copied
from
any
film.

There
have
been
comparisons
with

Kalank,
but
not
a
single
arch
is
the
same,
the
quality
of
work
is
very
different.

We
did
not
replicate
or
reuse
a
single
set,
not
even
the
drapes
and

dupattas.

The
architecture
in

Padmaavat,
Gangubai
Kathiawadi
and

Kalank
is
very
different.

Case
to
point
the
windows
with
their
wooden
shutters
which
are
nothing
like
the
Rajasthani

jharokhas
with
their
stone
pillars,
balustrade,
pyramidal
roof
and

jali
in

Padmaavat.

Even
the
clay
tiles
on
the
roofs
of
the
buildings
in
Lahore
then
are
different.

Back
in
the
’40s,
before
the
country
was
divided
on
communal
lines
by
the
British,
90
per
cent
of
the
shopkeepers
in
Heera
Mandi
were
Hindus
doing
brisk
business
in
milk
and

lassi.
Many
of
the
houses
have
pictures
of
Hindi
gods
or
‘Om’
on
their
roofs.

Lahore
1947
is
nothing
like

Heeramandi

Currently,
we
are
working
on
Rajkumar
Santoshi’s

Lahore
1947.

As
the
title
indicates,
it’s
a
period
film
set
in
Lahore,
but
it
is
nothing
like

Heeramandi.

We
have
built
two
main
sets
for
Sunny
Deol
and
Preity
Zinta’s
post-Partition
drama.

Sunny’s

haveli
has
been
built
in
Vrindavan,
Madh
Island
(off
the
coast
of
Mumbai),
but
the
major
portion
of
the
film
is
being
shot
at
the
SRPF
Ground
in
Jogeshwari
(north
west
Mumbai).

Heeramandi
is
a
perfect
example
of
colour
blending

Working
with
Sanjay
sir
is
a
lot
of
fun,
he
loves
hand-painted
drawings
and
playing
with
colours.

Heeramandi
is
a
perfect
example
of
colour
blending,
with
the
walls,
props
and
the
costumes
perfectly
coordinated.

The
colours,
even
the
yellows
and
reds,
are
soothing
because
Sanjay
sir
hates
even
his
crew
wearing
garish
colours.

If
we
ever
wore
a

jhatka
shirt
on
his
set,
he
would
go,
“Hmmm.”

For
him
it’s
all
about
subtle
tones
and
textures.

He
follows
old
masters,
like
Raja
Ravi
Verma’s
calendar
art,
so
even
a
film
like

Gangubai
Kathiawadi,
set
in
Mumbai’s
red-light
neighbourhood
Kamathipura,
is
beautiful
with
curtains
made
of
saris
and
etchings
on
the
walls.

In

Heeramandi
every
frame
is
like
a
painting
in
itself.

The
series
projected
India
as
a

sone
ki
chidiya

For
us
the
biggest
achievement
is
that
the
series
projected
India
not
as
a

gareeb
country,
but
as
the
proverbial

sone
ka
chidiya,
which
translates
literally
as
‘golden
bird’
but
actually
means
‘a
highly
valued
prize’.

There’s
a
widely
circulated
story
on
social
media
of
a
maharaja
who
in
the
1920s,
strolling
through
the
streets
of
London,
entered
a
Rolls
Royce
showroom
in
casual
wear
and
enquired
about
the
prices
of
the
cars.

The
British
salesman
believed
he
could
not
afford
such
an
expensive
English
car
and
showed
him
the
exit.

Humiliated,
the
maharaja
made
a
formal
appointment,
and
returning
to
the
showroom,
bought
all
six
cars,
paying
in
cash.

He
then
had
them
shipped
to
India
where
he
used
them
to
collect
garbage
till
the
Rolls
Royce
company
apologised
and
gifted
him
half-a-dozen
more
cars.

That’s
the
glorified
image
of
India
Sanjay
sir
brings
on
screen,
putting
our
country
on
top
of
the
global
map.

The
man
is
not
just
a
film-maker,
he
is
an
artist,
which
is
why
once
shooting
is
complete,
he
spends
three
days
on
the
set
alone,
reliving
the
experience,
before
he
moves
to
his
next
celluloid
dream.