The Day Of The Test Shoot The rose-pink sari sums up the look for the first half of the movie. I want to emphasise Paro’s youthfulness and vibrancy. I want her to be comfortable enough to ride a bicycle if she wants to.
Therefore, I deliberately avoid elaborate styling and opt for soft fabrics and delicate ‘imported’ detailing like ‘gara’ embroidery. Paro’s look has to have that yesteryear feel, yet she has to be fashionable. The blouse-less sari look is chosen for a young Paro.
As I lay out the 10-m long black and gold sari, Ash is aghast at the length of the sari. She says, “Do you expect me to wear this?”
Then I drape it around her. Ash exclaims, “Fabulous!” That one word summed up the look. She’s comfortable and can move with ease. It is a feat accomplished. The look seals the mature, sober styling that complements the mood of the second half of the movie.
Cut To August 2000 I’ve just returned from sari shopping in Calcutta. It felt like I had bought off all the shops, loaded as I was with 600 saris. Lucky for me, I am a quick shopper and can pick 30 to 40 saris in two hours. For Kiron Kher who plays Paro’s mother, I picked 22 Dhakai cotton saris.
I buy another 70 Benarasi silk saris from Roopkala in Mumbai.
Work is already underway. My studio at Mahim is beginning to look like a fabric warehouse. Masters, ‘machinists’ and karigars are hard at work cutting up saris, joining them together. Borders are being snipped off one sari and joined to another. We are busy making purses and embroidering mojri s to match Paro’s saris. The saris undergo a transformation when they are converted into shawls and upholstery for the sets. So if you find some Benarasi silk saris as cushion covers, don’t be surprised.
Cut To End Of November 2000: Today’s the day Sanjay is to shoot the important scene where Paro, dressed in a red and blue sari, lights the diya and sings the song Silsila yeh chahat ka . It’s a day I’d rather forget...
I wake up in the morning and I can’t move. I’m paralysed and suffering from intense pain. What is happening? It can’t happen now. Not with this important film and not when I’m feeling at my best ever. It’s not that I’ve felt exhausted. I’m enjoying the work and intense creative energy, so what the hell’s going on?
“It’s a slipped disk,” announces the doctor, “you’ll be bedridden for a month.” It’s so frustrating. After all I’ve done, I can’t give up now. I can’t sleep. I keep calling my assistants up on the sets, to check how everything’s going. I know they are competent, but this inactivity is driving me up the wall.


Most of Paro’s wardrobe comprised continuity garments. To achieve a continuity in space and time, all other factors like lighting, sets and clothes have to be maintained. A pleat cannot be out of place, the curl on her hair has to sit exactly the way it did in the previous shoot, her make-up, her bindi , her jewellery - every single detail has to be looked into.
To maintain that continuity, I had to pre-drape the clothes on a mannequin - 10 m of sari was divided into two parts - the skirt was pre-pleated and to prevent crushing or displacement the pleats were loosely stitched together.
The second part, the pallav , was pleated and draped. The petticoat, which had a circumference of 2.5 m was also pleated to enable Ash ample leg room and easy movement. All she would do, was step into the petticoat (on to which the skirt of the sari was attached), it was zipped up and the pallav was wound around her. She would be ready in 15 minutes. Still, her dressing would begin three hours in advance. This included her make-up, her wig of curls which had to be set in place and took the longest time, her clothes and jewellery.

Time to get my act together. The physiotherapy and traction already make me feel better, but these numerous medicines drain me out. The show must go on. There are clients’ clothes to take care of, and Ash will be coming over to the studio (which is in my home) for her fittings.
Two days before the shooting begins, Ash arrives. I hardly manage to do her fittings, struggling with one barely-functioning arm. Ash feels terrible. She says, “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. It’s absolutely okay. I’ve only come here because you won’t be at ease. You’ll feel good knowing how it all looks on me.”
My life line to the outside world is my telephone. My assistants give me a minute-by-minute account of each day’s shooting.
However, I have to say, God is good to me - there aren’t any shoots scheduled until the New Year.
One Month Later (December 2000)