Jis Lahore nai vekhya, O jameya nahi.
(One who has not seen Lahore is not yet born.)
But, as we need to elucidate the series, one can say that the cringe-fest of drab walls, morbid curtains, moonless sky, and misplaced fountains is not enough to capture the soul of Heeramandi.
In its repetitive fashion, Sanjay Leela Bhansali pays an ode to Madhu Bala’s Anarkali confined in shackles, as we see at the end, portrayed by Aditi Rao Hydari. The cold-hearted disciplinarian brothel madams: Khaanum Jaan of Umrao Jaan (both versions) and Rukmini Bai of Mandi seem to have possessed Malika Jaan, played by Manisha Koirala.
The glimmer of Meena Kumari’s Pakeezah was also brought back with the rendition of Najariya ki Maari.. mari mori guiyaan - an absolute delight of the Awadhi culture, wrongly imposed on Lahore of 1920.
This series is all about a misplaced Lucknow with the nomenclature of Lahore.
Heeramandi, located in the heart of old Lahore, apart from the common transliteration of the Diamond Bazaar, is a witness to the changing character of the city and its people. As the history goes, the Shahi Mohalla or Tibbi or Heeramandi was established in the area south of the Lahore Fort as a housing locality for servants of the royal court. Because of its proximity to the Fort, it was called ‘Shahi Mohalla’. Soon, the area became home to tawaifs of the royal court, who were not only proficient singers and dancers but also custodians of finesse and high culture.
Nevertheless, by the first half of the 18th century, Lahore saw numerous assaults and attacks of Nader Shah and Ahmad Shah Abdali, weakening the Mughal rule in Punjab, and resultantly, the royal patronage of the tawaifs was over. Later, Ranjit Singh restored several royal customs of the Mughals, and the tawaifs of Shahi Mohalla once again received benefaction from the court. A few decades later, the Prime Minister of the Sikh Empire, Hira Singh Dogra, used it as a food grains market, along with accommodating the houses of tawaifs. It was consequently called ‘Hira Singh di Mandi’ (Market of Hira Singh) or just ‘Heera Mandi’. Behind the Jharokas and small brick architecture, and under the shadow of Lahore’s magnificent Badshahi Masjid, one can locate this red-light area holding its ground for centuries.
The architecture as shown in the web series is an imagination of Bhansali, rather a gloomy one. And as it lacks detailing of the actual world, so the famous chiks used as a barrier from the peeping eyes of the outside world are replaced by heavy tapestries and gigantic wooden structures. Stifling!
Lahore has always been a city of culture, history, military expedition and basant. The utter misappropriation of Basant; a complete sacrilege is the usage of Sakal Ban in the series. The music misses out on the local Punjabi songs and the celebrated Patangbazi. The earthy charm of the famous Sufis, Waris Shah, Bulleh Shah and Shah Hussein is hijacked by heavy usage of Urdu, as all central characters deliver their dialogues. The picturization of this song looked like a duplication of period movies, sans Punjabiyat. Hussain, epitomizing the celebration of basant, in one of his kaafis, says: “The Beloved holds the string in his hand, and I am his kite.” Sadly, the essence of Lahore and the rustic tonality of its boli are nowhere to be heard or felt, apart from a few random dialogues spoken by the housekeepers and servants.
The performances in the series are worth mentioning. Richa Chaddha, with the dejected heart of Lajwanti/Lajjo creates a vacuum in the space of the usual grandiose and over-the-top theatrical dialogues. In a few frames, she looks as humane and real as any other woman, we have seen around us. Aditi Rao Hydari is typical with her ethereal aura and subtle play of emotions on the face, reminiscent of Anarkali, as she also played in another web series – “Taj — Divided by Blood”.
Yet, gradually a flare of Azaadi develops in her character, as she is part of an underground movement, seeking retribution from Angrezi hukumat. Sanjeeda Shaikh in the role of Waheeda, Manisha as Malika Jaan and Sonakshi Sinha playing Fareedan with their inter-personal feud and property issue are busy outwitting one another in a twisted maze of family intrigue and vengeance. Sharmin Segal, Bhansali’s niece as Alamzeb is as pale and insipid as any novice or ‘courtesan in making’ might be. But she steals the show, from the otherwise bold, vicious, and rapturous women of Heeramandi, with the final shot of a revolver.
The male characters, both Indian and British, are quite predictable and not very exciting. The bunch consisting of Shekhar Suman, Fardeen Khan, Adhyayan Suman, Taha Shah Badussha, Mark Bennington, Jason Shah etc are desire-driven pawns in the hand of these courtesans. As predictable, these men prove devious with the occasional brutal streaks, as most men are generally depicted in women-centric stories.
With the exception of Indresh Malik who brilliantly etched the role of Ustaad, a eunuch and pimp, with the tragic tenderness of a melancholic woman and the intricacy of a greedy middleman. Other notable mentions are that of Farida Jalal and Anju Mahendroo who made it to the screen after a long hiatus. Also, Sonakshi Sinha plays the double role of Rehana, the precursor of the Kotha.
The series culminates with a war cry of the courtesans of the area, against zalim British hukumat and hukmaraan, as they sing and march in solidarity towards the jail, where Aditi’s character dies in front of a firing squad.
Word for the wise: those interested in a somewhat real portrayal of Heeramandi, please watch the Pakistani movie- Bol. This movie is an answer to the cultural and linguistic illogicalities of Bhansali’s sham of a Heeramandi.
(Dr Sanchita Bhattacharya is a Research Fellow at the New Delhi-based Institute for Conflict Management. She has co-authored the book “The Taliban Misrule in Afghanistan: Suicide Brigades, the IS-K Military Strength and its Suicide Vehicle Industry”, along with Musa Khan Jalalzai. Her core area of research is Madrasa Education in Pakistan, India and Bangladesh. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed are the author's own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)
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