Abhilasha Ojha: Kahani Actor Actor Kii

MY WEEK

As someone who has been recovering from TV addiction for quite some time, I'm now no longer a big fan of kitchen sink dramas. And while there was a time when I'd lay bets with my mum on forthcoming episodes, I'm hardly in sync with scheming ma-in-laws, docile bahus and corrupt sister-in-laws of the small screen. So I'm a bit stressed when I'm told that my next task is a trip to Mumbai to visit Balaji Telefilms, the Mecca of Indian television soaps. On Monday evening and most of Tuesday, I surf channels which air these serials.

Wednesday

On Wednesday, I take an early morning flight, land in Mumbai and find myself in a shady hotel complete with a narrow staircase and a room the size of a matchbox. Checking out in less than 30 minutes, I'm asked to dole out money for my "one-day stay" by the hotel's manager. I snarl and leave without paying anything. "I was just trying," I hear the manager mutter to one of the attendants later.

Next, I head to Balaji Telefilms' office where I learn to do one thing: wait. It's what everyone does here. Wannabe actors, screenwriters, dialogue writers, directors, everyone just waits. And while at it, they gulp down vada pao, guzzle water, pray, read mantras, sport tilaks ("to impress Ektaji,"someone tells me), beg the guards to let them enter ... "You're lucky you're visiting the fifth floor so easily," Nick, a young, good looking lad from Delhi's Najafgarh area, tells me. He's been trying, unsuccessfully, to meet Ekta Kapoor, the small screen czarina, for the past six months.

"But we don't allow people to come with their portfolios and meet her directly," Kapoor's assistant tells me when I enter the fifth floor. "Please wait," she tells me with a studied smile. And from here I join the rest of the tribe.

Thursday

Having lingered all of Wednesday at Balaji Telefilms, I fail to meet Kapoor. "She's still in a meeting," her assistant informs me at 1:30 am, while my photographer and I, along with a very efficient team from Star Plus' corporate communications department, witness an outdoor shoot of Kahaani Ghar Ghar Kii at Film City. I meet actors Saakshi Tanwar and Kiran Karmarkar, the main characters of this seven-year-old show. "A two-second visual of a diya in a thali has been shot for 20 minutes already," the show's Director of Photography tells me. Karmarkar's body double looks pleased wearing all the finery while a co-star sulks in a corner when a TV crew interviews Karmarkar. We wind our day by 3:00 am and begin our return journey to the hotel.

In the evening I visit the indoor sets of Kasauti Zindagi Kii, constructed, I'm told, at a cost Rs 3-4 crore. Trunks full of clothes for different K-serials lie around, a body double of one character gets scared when I tell her I want to interview her and spot boys grin when Ronit Roy, the highest paid actor of Indian television, smiles at them.

Also...

While heading to Mumbai's Siddhi Vinayak temple, I realise that being a Delhi-ite I've forgotten how to trust people. When a taxi driver asks me to leave my bag in his cab and do 'darshan' at the temple, I only imagine him running off with my bag. He smiles gently and refuses to take any money from me till the 'darshan'. Mumbai's charm, I realise then, lies in its common man being simple and honest. Auto drivers don't escalate prices like their Delhi counterparts, cab-wallahs here are only too happy to serve you well and road rage, despite the city's mounting traffic jams, hardly exists.