
It8217;s a mad, mad world. The script changes with the weather, the make-up gets louder. And the clock is the biggest master. We spent a day with small screen vamp Kamya Punjabi for a glimpse of how the soap factory works
8 am:
The Mumbai sky is pelting rain. I call television actress Kamya Punjabi expecting her to cancel our appointment. Kamya, star of the popular daily soap Banoo Main Teri Dulhann on Zee TV, was to be my guide to the television industry for a day. That plan seems headed for a washout. 8220;No, no, don8217;t worry. I will be at the sets in a few minutes. I have to,8221; she says over phone. I scurry and the autorickshaw driver has no problem speeding. 8220;Arre, Dulhann and Prithviraj Chauhan are the only two shows I watch on TV. Sindooraji is great,8221; he says.
Sindooraji aka Kamya is the show8217;s lead vamp. If films in India are hero-driven, soaps revolve around heroines, but it8217;s the vamp who gets the drama crackling. This has been the guiding mantra of telly fiction since the saas-bahu Balaji Telefilms boom a decade ago. Some have even beaten the master Ekta Kapoor at her game, like Shakuntalam Films, the makers of Dulhann. Last year, the serial became the first non-Balaji soap to break the seven-year-old TRP monopoly of Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi.
9am:
Swathed in moss, Jeevan Mills, where the permanent set of Dulhann is located, could easily be mistaken for a Ramsay horror location. Inside, it8217;s a busy dream factory on roll, like most of Mumbai8217;s mills that have gone the mall or studio way. Kamya is in the make-up room. The script in front and the hairdresser buzzing around her, the process of Sindoorisation is on. Even the biggest of the TV stars first spot their dialogues on the set; the director gets to see the script a day before the shoot. The 500-episode plus, two-year-old show has as unreasonable a storyline as any soap worth its Ks. Its lead pair was killed by Sindoora but are back in a reincarnated avatar after the serial jumped two decades. So, Kamya plays a 50-year-old mother to actors older than her. 8220;But I am ok. It8217;s better than playing sobbing heroines,8221; she says, as the make-up boy creates an angry scar on her forehead. A mirror and a couch are the only adornments in this strictly functional ante-room. 8220;Sindoora got the cut because of the heroine Vidya, and she has vowed not to let it heal till she finishes her off 8216;Yeh daag tab tak nahi mitega jab tak main Vidya ko is duniya se na mita dungi8230;8217;,8221; says Kamya. Schvoom zap schvoom. Imagine how crazy the background score must have gone at those lines.
10 am:
Today8217;s scene is a high-drama moment and is being shot on actual location. We drive to a nearby hotel, where Sindoora, who plays a powerful politician and industrialist vamps have to be larger than life, is bidding for an antique idol. But she is outbid by her estranged son, who surfaces in the scene after 20 years for revenge. Director Inder Das is in a bad mood. 8220;The scene was supposed to be canned with paintings but the production team tells me they couldn8217;t get one. Now, we have to make do with two idols that hardly look the price.8221; But in TV, there is no time for choice. Script is the easiest replacement.
A long shot from the front is canned as Sindoora starts bidding. Unlike films, dialogues are recorded on the set. Das urges the crowd of extras posing as awe-struck millionaires to start mumbling as the bid rises. Sindoora is about to settle the bid at Rs 2.5 crore, when a voice from the back says 8220;Do karod saath lakh.8221; Das prods the extras, 8220;Chalo sab apas mein surprise wala look do. I want more shock.8221; 8220;Yeh kaun hai jo Sindooraji ko challenge kar sakta hai?8221; Das tells the extras to mutter. Cross bids of a crore each keep rising. Tapping her fingers on the table, Sindoora suddenly stops, arches her eyebrows, smirks and says decisively, 8220;Chhe karod 6 crores8221;. The faceless voice booms, 8220;Saat karod.8221; More schvoom schvoom. Sindoora8217;s smirk turns into a glare. Das directs the extras to look expectantly at Sindoora as she tells the auctioneer, 8220;Is murti ki itni aukat nahi hai8230; le jaane do usey8230;8221; Sindoora tears through the crowd and out of the frame to meet the challenger as the director, script in hand, checks the result on a monitor and declares 8220;Cut.8221;
11 am:
Throughout the day, the same scene is shot at least thrice, each time from a different angle. Kamya has only time to gobble an idli-sambar breakfast before the cameras start rolling. Between the shots, I wake up the auctioneer, character artist Sukh Randhawa, dozing through the melee of changing trolley and camera locations. 8220;After finishing a shoot of Sujata Sony at 3am last night, I am here reporting for a 7 am shoot,8221; he says. Randhawa, a national level boxer from Punjab, is a chip above the other extras. Though he is hired for a day, he has a line to say. While others get Rs 750 per shift, he manages Rs 2,000.
Permanent character roles can fetch up to Rs 5,000 per episode, though payments appen only after 60 days of a shoot. Lead actors usually get Rs 20,000-25,000 onwards per episode. Newcomers could even start at Rs 10,000 or less. Corporatisation has brought in a contract system where lead actors are often signed by a channel on a yearly basis, amounting to a multi-lakh fixed annual income. 8220;I can8217;t reveal how much I am paid, but it has definitely increased ten times since I entered TV five years ago,8221; admits Kamya. Most production assistants, technicians and even directors ideally start working without pay and pretty early, often in their teens, like the 26-year-old Das, who8217;s been in the industry for 10 years now.
2pm:
It8217;s time for lunch as everybody queues in for the staple studio buffet of rice, dal, chapati, sabzi, papad and dahi. Kamya orders some chicken biriyani and ice cream instead. 8220;Studio mein to thali ke alawa koi option hi nahi hota8230;8221; she says. As she waits, she rehearses lines for her ongoing reality show on Sony, Comedy Circus 2, where she has made to the finals. Her stand-up partner on the show, Rajiv Thakur, joins in and the duo start rehearsing, a hilarious spoof on Ekta Kapoor8217;s Kahani Hamaarey Mahabhaarat Ki. 8220;Not all actors will stick out their neck for a spoof on Ekta, but I don8217;t care,8221; says Kamya.
Soon after, a spot boy comes in to call, hopefully, Kamya8217;s last shot for the day as she8217;s opted for an early 5 pm pack-up to attend Comedy Circus rehearsals. On other days, she works 12 hours at a stretch. Kamya has been married for four years to Bunty Negi a special effects specialist and wishes she could spend more time at home beyond the 1-2 hours she manages. 8220;Pressure is also on to start a family. But you can8217;t just have a kid and let him be,8221; she muses.
Meanwhile, the camera has moved to right in front of her table for close-ups as she bids again. 8220;Pan left to centre and shake, pan right to centre, zoom in and shake8230;8221; goes the director. But though it8217;s Sindoora8217;s close-up, there8217;s no respite for the tired extras. Das yells, 8220;For one last time, sab camera ki ore dekh kar khusur-phusur karo.8221; One can hear a loud, 8220;Not again.8221; It8217;s their 10th take. Another jokes, 8220;Bhaade ke kapde pahankar karodon ki boli lagaye ja rahe hain8230;8221; 8220;8230;Aur woh bhi ek pachas rupaiye ke plaster of paris statue ke liye,8221; another joins in grinning.
5pm:
Sitting, watching, talking8230; a never-ending routine, even I am tired. Only six minutes of content is canned in six hours of shoot, but Das is a satisfied man. Can8217;t the pace be quickened? 8220;This is record time by normal soap shooting standards,8221; he retorts. 8220;We have to do with a single camera.8221;
Done for the day, Kamya waves goodbye to her team. Like a school kid at the end of the day, she has transformed into a carefree, girl-next-door in a T-shirt and capris as we hop into her Honda City for a ride to the next set at Andheri8217;s Mohan Studios.
6pm:
A bevy of stand-up comics are having a blast with cutting chai in the studio foyer as each of the performing actors takes turn to finalise their costumes with the in-house designer. Kamya checks the options8212; skirts, saris, salwars, dupatta, frocks, embroidered jeans 8211; 8220;but hey8230;Where are my modern outfits? Didn8217;t anyone tell you I am playing a modern Gandhari. My clothes have to spoof Manish Malhotra8217;s designs in Ekta8217;s Mahabhaarat8230;8221; she tells the designer.
Compared to the chaos on the soap8217;s sets, I am amazed at the sight of a minute-by-minute breakup chart outlining the next day8217;s shoot at the studio door. Show producer and chief creative officer of Optimystix, Vipul D Shah, says, 8220;Unlike soaps that work with a single camera, we record in real time with nine cameras. The scripts are commissioned well in advance and we ideally shoot at least three weeks ahead.8221;
8pm:
As Kamya and Thakur rehearse their act, the creative director and a script doctor watch and make notes. 8220;It8217;s necessary to avoid repetition and delete lines that hit below the belt or wouldn8217;t go well on a family audience show,8221; Shah says. Every line is analysed for its weight in humour and the final performance is locked.
9pm:
Kamya decides to call it quits after a 13-hour long workday. Rains and returning office traffic imply that she will reach home in another hour. 8220;I hit the bed by midnight. Sleep is the only luxury I allow myself.8221; She doesn8217;t get more than six-seven hours though. She has to be up by 7 am to be in time for the next day8217;s shoot at 8 am.
11pm:
Meanwhile, on a third set of Dulhann in Chandivali Studio, Frien and Das are frantically working to pack in another eight minutes. They finally call it a day at 2 am. Sleep is a dear commodity. 8220;After a year in the industry, now my body clock has adjusted to four hours of sleep a day,8221; says Frien. Forget holidays, Sunday is the only bad word in this industry. The last time Kamya took a long holiday in her two years in Dulhann was 8220;two days to Goa8221; around the New Year8217;s Eve in 2007. Twenty-four-year-old Frien from Madhya Pradesh is yet to take one.
The demands of the TV industry are ruthless. But everyone is hoping to break into bigger things. Kamya Punjabi wants newer challenges like direction and setting up her own production house, Randhawa wants to graduate onto meatier character roles on TV, Das wants to direct a film someday, Frien intends to graduate into an executive producer. But till that time, life on a set goes on, 24/7.