When one discusses the fanaticism inspired by Balaji melodramas, the contribution of the malicious vamp can hardly be ignored. Komolika, Mandira, Pallavi, Payal, Ramola, Trupti – the list goes on and on of women who etched themselves on people’s minds as some of the most loathed women in India of the era. The vamps were the sine qua non of Balaji shows. Inclusion of a well- crafted bad girl could guarantee the success of a show on the TRP charts. Audiences detested these women for their repulsive traits, yet watched intently every time they wrought fire and brimstone on the heroines. The villainesses all had common, underlying reasons for their tyranny. Some had been betrayed in love by the heroes, while others were made to feel insecure by the heroines. A few had ancestral feuds going on with the central families of the storylines. Others were cruelly driven by their lust for money and power. Their means of destruction often involved breaking up the idealistic joint families; they created misunderstandings, kidnapped children, murdered the protagonists, and took over businesses.
These atrocious women were mischievous, merciless and malevolent all at the same time. Vamps often plotted in solitude. They would either talk to themselves aloud or mouth monologues in their heads hinting at their next plan of action. The often verbose soliloquies would be accompanied with visual images. For example, the vamp would be playing chess with herself, and at the end of her monologue, would chuck the queen pawn off the board after vowing to terminate the heroine. Another variant of this was the vamp aiming darts at a dartboard, and hitting the bull’s-eye, the photograph of the heroine, at the conclusion of her soliloquy. Other sequences displayed vamps blowing out candles, setting photographs of the heroes on fire, and smashing glass frames of happy family pictures into tiny fragments. The vamps’ speeches to themselves would end with a loud cackle, their signature background tune, hissing and meowing sounds, and flashing coloured lights. The background tune was such an integral part of the vamp’s persona that Ramola Sickand’s entry to her tune in Kaahin Kissii Roz was often compared to that of Gabbar Singh in Ramesh Sippy’s classic film Sholay (1975). Vamps had their signature traits as well, such as pulling on an earlobe, playing with an eyelash, or raising an eyebrow seductively. Sometimes, the vamps would also have crafty accomplices, often supporting members of the giant joint families.
These sidekicks were often naive and gullible family members who had either temporarily gone astray or who had been instigated by the antiheroes against the protagonists. The black-as-night vamps were a complete foil to the white-as-snow heroines. The temporary triumph of the vamps over the poor heroines was a common thread in the shows. Often, the archetypal vamp would bankrupt the heroine’s family, turning it out on the streets. She would then take over the manor and business, thereby blackmailing the heroine into obeying her wishes. Vamps used various other tactics to trap heroines. Frequently, when serials jumped twenty years into the future, the villainesses would pounce back by marrying their sons or daughters to the hero and heroine’s children to seek their long-pending vengeance.
A Balaji vamp attracted as much attention as her arch- nemesis heroine counterpart. Shweta Kawatra, who played the menacing Pallavi on Kahaani, was almost beaten up in a public place by an elderly gentleman, who had to be forcefully restrained by his wife. At New Delhi’s M Block Market, she was shoved into a shop for safety when she was violently mobbed by angry crowds. The actress, at the very moment, realized that she was no longer going to lead a normal life. Similarly, Achint Kaur, who played the heinous Mandira on Kyunki, had to be dragged out of the foyer into a classroom of her son’s school building as so many kids wanted to pull her up for her on-screen antics.
It was not just actors in Ekta’s shows who courted stardom. Priya Bhattacharya, the nightingale voice of nearly every Balaji drama of the era, was unofficially crowned as the small-screen melody queen of the decade. From 7.30 to 11.30 every weeknight, Priya’s melodies played across Indian homes in the nation, and she truly became the voice of the people. Apart from the man on the street, the singer received adulation and applause from the biggest talents in the music industry. During a rare meeting with legendary vocalist Lata Mangeshkar, the icon pointed out a specific lyric of the Kyunki track that she thought Priya had sung especially well. Priya was dumbfounded just by the thought that the legend watched the show with such enthusiasm. Such was the love for Ekta’s programmes that viewers began imitating her characters.
Maasi’s costumes, jewellery and styles became hot sellers in marketplaces India-wide. Maasi’s method was standard from the Itihaas days. She first heard the half-a-page concept, or synopsis of any given programme. She was then briefed on the characters, which was followed by introductions to the specific actors essaying the roles. Next, Maasi would take each performer shopping to boutiques as well as to beauticians and hairstylists.
Her creative apparel found its way into the wardrobes of Indian women from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. Maasi’s innovative approach to costume and jewellery design became the template for imitation amongst designers and stylists. To fulfil the costume demands of the zillions of Balaji characters, Maasi operated both within and out of the box. On her off days, she spent hours in shops, not only understanding the latest costume trends, but also figuring out ways to subtly alter them. She watched old Indian films and foreign films for fashion attire that had not been seen before on Indian television. She used many other sources as inspiration. She would flip through designs of Iranian tapestry and get similar embroidery done on Indian clothing. Spotting a Jadau necklace in a magazine, she plastered kundan stones onto a fabric neckline, which went on to sell in thousands with Bandhani scarves and gharcholas. Another time she tacked on unusual leopard print or abstract print fabrics as sari borders, which were copied blatantly across other television programmes. A spectrum of unconventional colours ranging from emerald green to aubergine to salmon pink was splashed on-screen.
The volume of work was tremendous, and the demand for specialized clothing was at a peak. For the extremely popular Star Plus love saga Kahiin To Hoga, Maasi and her assistants had to provide party wear for the wedding of the serial’s protagonist Kashish, played by Aamna Sharif. In true Balaji style, Kashish’s wedding consisted of fourteen functions, and the costuming team chalked out fourteen different sets of wedding get-ups for the numerous characters in a variety of themes. Colours, patterns and styles were mixed and matched to give the series a cinematic feel. For even the smallest of events, the womenfolk were decked in net lehengas and men were sharply dressed in three-piece suits and sherwanis.
Having an extended member of the Kapoor family manage the costuming had its own set of benefits. First, Maasi was extremely possessive of and personally invested in the quality of the clothes that were used. Second, she was also very conscious of the financial implications of her decisions. As a result, she was able to economise and harvest imaginative costuming for Balaji without digging deeper into the company’s purse than required. For example, Maasi knew very well that television was a medium of close-up shots. Full body shots of actors were few, with the camera concentrating its focus upon the upper halves of their bodies. Maasi ensured that the focus in terms of costuming lay in the upper halves. For women, this often consisted of ensuring the appropriate draping of a dupatta. Even a simple salwar kameez would stand out just by the way in which the actress wore her dupatta. Apart from her innovation in the young women’s costumes, Maasi also used her creative prowess to make the attire of the older women special. For Kyunki’s Baa and Kahaani’s Dadi, for instance, she would offset the typical milk- white saris with light blue, light pink and light yellow variations.
The vamps profited the most from Maasi’s inspired tastes. The distasteful dispositions of the vamps ironically gave them access to the most tasteful clothing. Maasi would take ordinary clothing and ornaments and completely turn them around to suit the spicy, zesty and peppery personalities of the witches. Unlike the often too-good-to-be-true protagonists, the villainesses were not bound by notions of conservativeness, traditions or rituals. For Komolika, the conspiring ‘other-woman’ of Kasautii Zindagii Kay, Maasi would chop up blouses and redesign them. Backless, spaghetti-strap, halter- top and cut-sleeve blouses sold like hotcakes in the markets courtesy the trends set by the backstabbing vixen. Other actresses who played vamps also impacted fashion trends. Raajeshwari Sachdev, who played Ambika and Mallika on Kahaani Ghar Ghar Kii, for instance, was stopped by a woman who told her that she had her blouses stitched the same way as Raajeshwari’s on-screen character. For the acclaimed actress, this was the first time someone had noticed her for her costumes in her illustrious twelve-year career. Tisca Chopra , who went on to replace Raajeshwari in the series, got tagged as a sexy on-screen mother thanks to her costuming, and she was hounded for days by local women for a gold-and-white sari that she had worn during her on-screen son’s wedding.
Excerpted with permission from Kingdom of the Soap Queen by Kovid Gupta, published by HarperCollins Publishers India
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These atrocious women were mischievous, merciless and malevolent all at the same time. Vamps often plotted in solitude. They would either talk to themselves aloud or mouth monologues in their heads hinting at their next plan of action. The often verbose soliloquies would be accompanied with visual images. For example, the vamp would be playing chess with herself, and at the end of her monologue, would chuck the queen pawn off the board after vowing to terminate the heroine. Another variant of this was the vamp aiming darts at a dartboard, and hitting the bull’s-eye, the photograph of the heroine, at the conclusion of her soliloquy. Other sequences displayed vamps blowing out candles, setting photographs of the heroes on fire, and smashing glass frames of happy family pictures into tiny fragments. The vamps’ speeches to themselves would end with a loud cackle, their signature background tune, hissing and meowing sounds, and flashing coloured lights. The background tune was such an integral part of the vamp’s persona that Ramola Sickand’s entry to her tune in Kaahin Kissii Roz was often compared to that of Gabbar Singh in Ramesh Sippy’s classic film Sholay (1975). Vamps had their signature traits as well, such as pulling on an earlobe, playing with an eyelash, or raising an eyebrow seductively. Sometimes, the vamps would also have crafty accomplices, often supporting members of the giant joint families.
These sidekicks were often naive and gullible family members who had either temporarily gone astray or who had been instigated by the antiheroes against the protagonists. The black-as-night vamps were a complete foil to the white-as-snow heroines. The temporary triumph of the vamps over the poor heroines was a common thread in the shows. Often, the archetypal vamp would bankrupt the heroine’s family, turning it out on the streets. She would then take over the manor and business, thereby blackmailing the heroine into obeying her wishes. Vamps used various other tactics to trap heroines. Frequently, when serials jumped twenty years into the future, the villainesses would pounce back by marrying their sons or daughters to the hero and heroine’s children to seek their long-pending vengeance.
A Balaji vamp attracted as much attention as her arch- nemesis heroine counterpart. Shweta Kawatra, who played the menacing Pallavi on Kahaani, was almost beaten up in a public place by an elderly gentleman, who had to be forcefully restrained by his wife. At New Delhi’s M Block Market, she was shoved into a shop for safety when she was violently mobbed by angry crowds. The actress, at the very moment, realized that she was no longer going to lead a normal life. Similarly, Achint Kaur, who played the heinous Mandira on Kyunki, had to be dragged out of the foyer into a classroom of her son’s school building as so many kids wanted to pull her up for her on-screen antics.
It was not just actors in Ekta’s shows who courted stardom. Priya Bhattacharya, the nightingale voice of nearly every Balaji drama of the era, was unofficially crowned as the small-screen melody queen of the decade. From 7.30 to 11.30 every weeknight, Priya’s melodies played across Indian homes in the nation, and she truly became the voice of the people. Apart from the man on the street, the singer received adulation and applause from the biggest talents in the music industry. During a rare meeting with legendary vocalist Lata Mangeshkar, the icon pointed out a specific lyric of the Kyunki track that she thought Priya had sung especially well. Priya was dumbfounded just by the thought that the legend watched the show with such enthusiasm. Such was the love for Ekta’s programmes that viewers began imitating her characters.
Maasi’s costumes, jewellery and styles became hot sellers in marketplaces India-wide. Maasi’s method was standard from the Itihaas days. She first heard the half-a-page concept, or synopsis of any given programme. She was then briefed on the characters, which was followed by introductions to the specific actors essaying the roles. Next, Maasi would take each performer shopping to boutiques as well as to beauticians and hairstylists.
Her creative apparel found its way into the wardrobes of Indian women from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. Maasi’s innovative approach to costume and jewellery design became the template for imitation amongst designers and stylists. To fulfil the costume demands of the zillions of Balaji characters, Maasi operated both within and out of the box. On her off days, she spent hours in shops, not only understanding the latest costume trends, but also figuring out ways to subtly alter them. She watched old Indian films and foreign films for fashion attire that had not been seen before on Indian television. She used many other sources as inspiration. She would flip through designs of Iranian tapestry and get similar embroidery done on Indian clothing. Spotting a Jadau necklace in a magazine, she plastered kundan stones onto a fabric neckline, which went on to sell in thousands with Bandhani scarves and gharcholas. Another time she tacked on unusual leopard print or abstract print fabrics as sari borders, which were copied blatantly across other television programmes. A spectrum of unconventional colours ranging from emerald green to aubergine to salmon pink was splashed on-screen.
The volume of work was tremendous, and the demand for specialized clothing was at a peak. For the extremely popular Star Plus love saga Kahiin To Hoga, Maasi and her assistants had to provide party wear for the wedding of the serial’s protagonist Kashish, played by Aamna Sharif. In true Balaji style, Kashish’s wedding consisted of fourteen functions, and the costuming team chalked out fourteen different sets of wedding get-ups for the numerous characters in a variety of themes. Colours, patterns and styles were mixed and matched to give the series a cinematic feel. For even the smallest of events, the womenfolk were decked in net lehengas and men were sharply dressed in three-piece suits and sherwanis.
Having an extended member of the Kapoor family manage the costuming had its own set of benefits. First, Maasi was extremely possessive of and personally invested in the quality of the clothes that were used. Second, she was also very conscious of the financial implications of her decisions. As a result, she was able to economise and harvest imaginative costuming for Balaji without digging deeper into the company’s purse than required. For example, Maasi knew very well that television was a medium of close-up shots. Full body shots of actors were few, with the camera concentrating its focus upon the upper halves of their bodies. Maasi ensured that the focus in terms of costuming lay in the upper halves. For women, this often consisted of ensuring the appropriate draping of a dupatta. Even a simple salwar kameez would stand out just by the way in which the actress wore her dupatta. Apart from her innovation in the young women’s costumes, Maasi also used her creative prowess to make the attire of the older women special. For Kyunki’s Baa and Kahaani’s Dadi, for instance, she would offset the typical milk- white saris with light blue, light pink and light yellow variations.
The vamps profited the most from Maasi’s inspired tastes. The distasteful dispositions of the vamps ironically gave them access to the most tasteful clothing. Maasi would take ordinary clothing and ornaments and completely turn them around to suit the spicy, zesty and peppery personalities of the witches. Unlike the often too-good-to-be-true protagonists, the villainesses were not bound by notions of conservativeness, traditions or rituals. For Komolika, the conspiring ‘other-woman’ of Kasautii Zindagii Kay, Maasi would chop up blouses and redesign them. Backless, spaghetti-strap, halter- top and cut-sleeve blouses sold like hotcakes in the markets courtesy the trends set by the backstabbing vixen. Other actresses who played vamps also impacted fashion trends. Raajeshwari Sachdev, who played Ambika and Mallika on Kahaani Ghar Ghar Kii, for instance, was stopped by a woman who told her that she had her blouses stitched the same way as Raajeshwari’s on-screen character. For the acclaimed actress, this was the first time someone had noticed her for her costumes in her illustrious twelve-year career. Tisca Chopra , who went on to replace Raajeshwari in the series, got tagged as a sexy on-screen mother thanks to her costuming, and she was hounded for days by local women for a gold-and-white sari that she had worn during her on-screen son’s wedding.
Excerpted with permission from Kingdom of the Soap Queen by Kovid Gupta, published by HarperCollins Publishers India
