Sonakashi Sinha and Manisha Koirala discuss being sadistic, angry courtesans in Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi, confess that they questioned playing unhinged characters, and why they succumbed to the lure of the best roles of their life
Sanjay Leela Bhansali directs Manisha Koirala, who plays Mallikajaan, in Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar
When we join Manisha Koirala and Sonakshi Sinha on a fashion shoot, they are sharing a laugh at something somebody said. Koirala bids adieu to Sinha as she leaves for the online launch of her song Tilasmi Bahein.
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It’s an hour before Sinha returns, ready to speak of her role in next week’s Netflix release, Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar. A period piece on Lahore’s most powerful women, the series centres around these two warring courtesans. But behind the scenes, they are fixing each other’s hair and tiaras. Where is the war we ask? That’s for the screen, they tell us.
Bhansali fashioned his series around a concept by journalist-writer Moin Beg, who has lived with the story for 15 years. Historically, Heeramandi was a bastion of the classical arts patronised by the tawaifs under Mughal rule but devolved into a centre of prostitution when the British consolidated their rule in undivided India. Through eight episodes, the story hurtles through turbulent times, weaving a narrative of love, betrayal, loss, and power.
Sonakshi Sinha
Koirala, Bhansali’s first heroine (Khamoshi, 1996), is working with him after 28 years. “The first time Sanjay and I met was on the sets of 1942: A Love Story; he was working on the film’s songs. I was in the midst of filming the beautiful [song] Pyaar hua chupke se, and we instantly became friends. He wanted some feedback on his own script. I loved it and I am glad that I got to be his heroine. Now, I get to play Mallikajaan.”
The queen bee of Heeramandi, Koirala’s character decides what happens in the haveli and the neighbourhood, and unabashedly uses her charm to control the Nawabs. “I won’t lie,” she makes an honest admission, “I don’t think I connect with Mallikajaan. She is dark, complex, layered and extremely controlling. She is insecure, power-hungry and traumatised. But as an actor, when you step into a role like this, you must channelise every bit of your art. I had to know her from a place of empathy and ask questions about what makes her who she is. What does her trauma feel like to her? She is an emotionally intelligent woman. There is a certain grammar to how she conducts herself. Her body language is also a product of this world and her experiences.” Koirala says she broke down her character’s conscious and subconscious mind. Because acting is more than just learning your lines and cracking the body language, she had to make sure she emoted with her eyes. “I don’t know if Heeramandi ever had a Mallikajaan. I have never met a person like her.”
As Fareedan, Sinha is Mallikajaan’s nemesis. The hatred that their characters harbour for the other is both, fearsome and valid. It is not easy to figure who is right and not. Sinha describes her character as angry. “What defines Fareedan is her rage. Life hasn’t been pretty or pleasant. Her anger stems from the unfairness life has meted to her. I have never played someone who is constantly seething and undoing the wrong done to her. She is borderline sadistic, but also a good person. I was careful not to let Fareedan enter my life beyond the director’s, action!”
Both actors admit that their big challenge was that the story is set in a milieu and country that’s unfamiliar. Koirala shares that the research was cumbersome. “It was exhaustive. It started with reading the script multiple times. I had to request Sanjay to get me a diction coach since I have laborious dialogues. Sanjay’s research, Beg’s perspective and detailing—it all added a lot [of value]. At the end of the day, it is Sanjay’s call. He knows what he wants so
when I would perform, he guides me. Ye nukhta zyada mat bolo, ye kam tha.”
Sinha agrees. “All my preparation came from listening to Sanjay sir talk about Fareedan. He is passionate about even the darkest of characters. He spoke to me about Fareedan like he knows her, narrated what has transpired in her life, her trauma. I am an observer and so these conversations permeated into my subconscious. I took it all in.”
Then there were books. Zahid Akasi’s detailed title, Heera Mandi (2005) includes a plethora of details about the neighbourhood and its genesis. During the Mughal era, it stood near a towering brick wall, 30 feet tall, encircling purana or old Lahore; safeguarding the city. Thirteen gates punctuated the ramparts, facilitating entry into the city. Positioned in the northwest corner of the old city, Heera Mandi was entered through Taksaali Gate. Named after Maharaja Heera Singh, son of Maharaja Dehan Singh, a prominent minister in Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s administration, the red light area earned a fitting moniker. During emperor Aurangzeb’s reign, the construction of the Badshahi Masjid in the vicinity led to the area being referred to as Shahi Mohalla, or royal neighbourhood. The courtesans were not only skilled in classical dance like kathak and music but also well-versed in poetry, literature, and the arts. Koirala says that learning dance and music are the frills of any performance. The real drill is to capture the soul of the character. “Dialogues don’t always do it for you. There are times when a character has no lines [in a scene], but is able to leave a mark. We all work hard to understand.”
Zahid traces the roots of numerous popular singers to this locality, including Madam Noor Jehan, Farida Khanum, Naseem Begum, Tasawar Khanum, Nahid Begum, and Surayya Khanum. The music for the series has been making waves since the launch, especially that surrounding the kathak pieces. Which is why Sinha’s performance in Tilasmi Bahein is unexpected, and filmed as a single shot. Sinha tells us it was all done impromptu, like most good things. “Whatever we had prepared for was scrapped by Sanjay sir on the day of shoot. Four days were kept aside for the song, but when we reached the set, he decided that he didn’t want what was earlier planned. “Instead, he said, ‘What if we do it in one shot?’ I had zero time to prepare. So, whatever he was saying, I was following in real time. I had to learn the lyrics right then...it was daunting. There was no running away from this. I shed all my inhibitions and became Fareedan. I almost forgot Sonakshi. It was unreal once the shoot was over. Sanjay sir gave me a standing ovation. It was the happiest moment for me as actor. He is not easy to please.”
Actors can mature, and so, directors can change too. Has Bhansali changed as filmmaker in 30 years? “Sanjay was always a beautiful director. Khamoshi was poetic, sensitive. It spoke about the insecurities of a deaf and mute couple. Their child sings beautifully and they want to exert their control over her. Sanjay has become a filmmaker who envisions larger-than-life stories. He has become better with time, and even more of a perfectionist. There is a reason why he is a genius.”
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