‘Heeramandi, The Diamond Bazaar’ had been generating quite a buzz since the past few months. Being the first ever web series from the house of Bhansali does make you sit up and take notice. I won’t lie, I was waiting to watch this series. For any western viewer this might be what they think Bollywood is all about. Glistening, gaudy costume dramas with engrossing dance numbers. Very 70s. All of it polished off with a pre-independence flavour. Like every Bhansali production, this film too has a distinct tint. I think it was yellow, though the maker would boast it’s pure gold.
What should you look out for in this series? Is it worth the wait and the hype? I came across a lot of mixed reviews on the net about the series. Some accused Bhansali of ‘glamourising’ women’s pain and humiliation as he is known to have practiced in his earlier productions. Some dismissed it as a sparkling costume drama with a jewellery and dress collection which might become a rage in the wedding reels soon.
Well, I won’t dismiss all those views altogether. I feel when it comes to Sanjay Bhansali as a filmmaker, he thinks the more finesse he adds to a frame, the more the viewers are struck by flashlights. And he isn’t wrong in thinking so because Heeramandi is definitely a sight for sore eyes. It’s flamboyant, grand, even gaudy and over the top. But you cannot help admire Bhansali’s cinematic vision. Every frame looks rich and bedecked with gold and glitter. You have gleaming jewels and even the courtesan’s faces glow with extra highlighter.
Coming to the story, the main premise of the series constitutes the life of some powerful, rich and conniving courtesans, who call themselves the ‘ranis’ (queens) of a prominent redlight area, Heeramandi, in pre-independence Lahore (now in Pakistan). Unlike the dingy, dark, and realistic depiction of redlight areas that repulse us in ‘Salaam Bombay’, Bhansali’s Heeramandi is a fairytale world where the chandeliers are always alight, the goblets brim over with liquor and the fountains never run dry. You can taste the director’s nostalgia for a bygone era of sophisticated pleasure homes, ones reminescent of classics such as Mughal-e-azam and Pakeezah. Then there is all that punchy and artful dialogue which in a way reminds us of Rekha’s amazing oneliners in Umrao Jaan.
The most powerful courtesan of Heeramandi is Mallikajaan (Manisha Koirala), who has the most powerful nawabs of Lahore wrapped around her little finger. Her audacity makes her challenge and jeer at a highranking British official, Cartwright, right at the beginning of the story. This uncomfortable rendevouz later becomes a source of permanent pain for her. In her glorified bohemian cabal, the most famed and beautiful courtesans lure nawabs to their beds. Mallikajaan comes across as a ruthless and deeply materialistic courtesan who doesn’t shy away from even dragging her daughters into the arms of these lusty nawabs for her gain. Politics plays out between pillows as the nawabs pass on state secrets to these women.
Within the walls of her ‘shahi mahal’ (royal palace, as she likes to call it), every one of her girls has her own agenda. There’s her shrewd and backstabbing sister, Waheeda (played masterfully by Sanjeeda Sheikh), her daughter Bibbojaan (Aditi Rao Hydari) who is a secret sympathiser and partaker in the roaring independence movement and her younger daughter, Alamzeb (Sharmin Sehgal), who dreams of being a poetess instead of a courtesan. Mallikajaan herself is a keeper of many dark deeds and secrets. But the darkest of them comes to haunt her as the scheming Fareedan (Sonakshi Sinha), her niece. Fareedan threatens to pull Mallikajaan down from her hallowed seat and expose her crimes and secrets to the world. What follows is a web of treachery and deceit on both sides, each of them trying to topple the other’s hold on Lahore’s upper crust.
Is it worth a watch? Well, I would say it depends on whether you are up for some extravagance. I don’t mind it once in a while, but the story has to be equally enticing. Heeramandi, in my humble opinion, somewhat totters on that front. While the editing does make most of it watchable, you do wonder at times why some things are happening and why are some characters behaving the way they should. You have a slightly eccentric Lajjo (Richa Chaddha) who dreams of marrying a nawab and declares the same at a posh club. Now, one wonders, back in the days courtesans weren’t allowed to leave their kothas (mansions), but Lajjo walks freely amid the upper circles of Lahore in a club. And then, she is back to being a mujra-girl (performer) at the same nawab’s wedding whom she had hoped to tie the knot with (Pakeezah anyone?). Heeramandi borrows from a lot of old movies in style and treatment. But the story seems to be struggling between so many characters, each of whom have their own aspirations.
You have an impassioned and ambitious Alamzeb who dreams of running away from her mother’s clutches and becoming a poetess. She falls in love with the dashing and young nawab, Tajdar (Taha Shah Badussha), and even elopes to escape the dreary life of the Shahi Mahal. Does she find love and freedom? You have to watch the series to know that. Bibbojaan, her older sister, is a celebrated courtesan who makes the nawabs and later, even the British dance to her tunes. But in the graveyard hours, she is a burqa-clad freedom fighter who donates her earnings and jewellery for India’s independence. Then there is Fareedan, the vile and vindictive niece of Mallikajaan who opens her kotha right in front of her aunt’s, just to get her revenge rolling. She finds allies in Mallika’s own sister, Waheeda, and also a pimp, who I believe is called Ustaad.
I have to say I am surprised because Bhansali dares to sink his teeth into subjects that he otherwise doesn’t touch in his movies. Oral sex, homosexuality, and rape. Even though all of it depicted rather respectfully leaving everything open to the audience’s interpretation, I do have to say I was pleasantly surprised to see the director move out of his comfort zone.
Now, what did not work for me? Well, while every frame of Heeramandi is a dream to behold and the abundance is breathtaking; you cannot hope an to enthrall a modern audience entirely with a dose of flash. At times, the story drags and you have Alamzeb and Tajdar’s abrupt love story intertwining with the rivalry between Fareedan and Mallikajaan. The villains change too often. Sometimes, it’s the courtesans, sometimes the nawabs, and finally the British. It seems like the storywriter was playing musical chairs when it came to picking a central conflict for the series.
The music is signature Bhansali. It’s all classical Hindustani thumris and ghazals you must have heard if you have an ear for classical Indian music. It’s melody for the ears but reminescent of his older films such as Bajirao Mastani, Guzarish, and Devdas. At times, the pacing is just off. The characters change track. Sometimes they are sworn loyalists of Mallikajaan, at other times they backstab her with pronounced relish. Ustaad (Indresh Malik), for instance, poses as Mallikajaan’s faithful dog even as he passes information about her to the British and her enemy, Fareedan. Then there is Alamzeb who refuses to be a courtesan, but agrees to be one when her mother threatens to sell her maid, Saima for 10,000 rupees. She decks up for her opening night, only to run away to Tajdar and leave the streets of Heeramandi behind. Tajdar, who loves Alamzeb right from the moment he lays eyes on her, never bothers to ask her name or about her family even after bumping into her multiple times. When he finally learns that she is Mallikajaan’s daughter, his love vapourises into thin air as he abhors Heeramandi and its women. And then all of a sudden, he develops feelings for her again, shelters her, beds her, impregnantes her, promises to marry her, and wait for it… surrenders himself to the British. Why? Because he is a freedom fighter before a lover.
The end, well, I would say it just pops up because the director perhaps was too exhausted to think of a plausible conclusion. It seemed a little abrupt and forced. The mighty and hapless find a common enemy and march on the streets singing a jingoistic song. I have to say what starts with mild intrigue ends with a wimper.
Performance wise, I never liked Manisha Koirala so much earlier. She owns Mallikajaan and performs with all her verve. Sonakshi Sinha is a delight to watch as the crafty and vicious Fareedan. But if I have to really applaud someone, it’s Sanjeeda Sheikh as Waheeda. She packs a punch as Mallikajaan’s neglected and oppressed sister, who swears to take back what’s hers. Richa Chadda is predictable in her small cameo, Aditi Rao Hydari replays herself from Padmavat. Sharmin as Alamzeb was a breath of fresh air. Taha, who plays her lover, looked handsome on screen, but as an actor perhaps still has miles to go. A special mention to the supporting cast—Indresh Malik was impressive as Ustaad, and Shekhar and Adhyayan Suman were great in their short screen time. You also cannot help but notice the earnest performances of Shruti Sharma who plays Saima, Alamzeb’s maid, Nivedita Bhargava as Satto, and the legendary Farida Jalal, who plays the lovable Qudsia Begum.
Overall, the series is good for a one-time watch if you prefer the opulence that comes guaranteed with every Bhansali production. The story belongs to a niche right up his alley. Many might compare it to his earlier film, Gangubai Kathiawadi, since both the movies revolve around the life of prostitutes. Well, I would say the main difference lies in the setting and era. The treatment and handling of the subjects seems similar. Something Bhansali has been accused for is the repeated glorification of violence and abuse in his movies, and Heeramandi. But honestly, he is rather discreet even while filming what is meant to be a gruesome rape scene. It’s the dialogues and the histronics of the victim that he uses to give us an idea of her agony. I respect that because not everyone (like yours truly) is comfortable watching graphic sexual violence on screen.
I would say his main inspiration for suffering and conflict is rather ‘George Martin-ish’. The characters who suffer such sordid fates are no saints themselves. It’s like fate is meting out to them what they have meted out to others. When I watched the series, most of the character-predicaments seemed like karma’s hand at play. You have to see their fates in the light of the actions and decisions they have taken in the past. But then to each his own.
In all, Sanjay Leela’s Bhansali’s first OTT production does shine, but more like glass shards reflecting light through momentary sparks.
My rating: 7/10
Love your review. I have been seeing clips of this show everywhere on social media and I must say, it's one show I'm not tempted to watch. As colonialism destroyed many things, it also destroyed the history of Heera Mandi. I would much rather remember this place as the center of performing arts and culture than yet another redlight area. Before colonialization the place was something else. Women were well-educated and held in high regard. There used to be music and dance schools all around the place. Before the British, it was a place of cultured gatherings, where mostly royalty and high-level officials frequented. Anyway, your review is lovely. And I can see you have done it justice by showing all sides of the show. I just wish the writer had picked a different time period to show us.
Fun fact: It's now a food street and a normal bazar. And the place still has the ability to transport you back in time. The architecture alone is amazing. And ambience is so pre-partition.