All that transpired one evening on the sets of Sacred Games, India’s first original Netflix series tale in the making
Mohar Basu (MID-DAY; April 1, 2018)

In 2006, while reading the synopsis of Vikram Chandra’s Sacred Games at a book store in Delhi, I was bemused to note that the author had borrowed a near forgettable character from his last book, Love and Longing in Bombay, to create this narrative. Khakhiclad Sartaj Singh becomes more than a seemingly lonesome, pitiable divorcee from the first book, when he dons his Sherlock Holmes-cape to investigate why Mafioso Ganesh Gaitonde would remain holed up in the heart of Mumbai instead of enjoying the luxury that his sinister activities has earned him. When Netflix announced its first desi series based on the book, I, like many fans of Chandra, was instantly intrigued.

The announcement of the unit — direction by Anurag Kashyap and Vikramaditya Motwane, and a cast including Saif Ali Khan as Sartaj Singh, and Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Ganesh Gaitonde — gave me more reason to celebrate. This one could be intoxicating; rooted in its earthen story, exploring the dirt of the city’s underbelly and the goings-on that lead the men to crossroad. One evening, I landed up on the set of the film, a run-down mill in Byculla.

I was immediately transported back to the ’90s, when the crime rate in Mumbai was on the rise, and black money found its way into Bollywood’s glittery world. Quite early on in the filming process, work was strictly demarcated between Kashyap and Motwane. The latter would adapt the venture along with Varun Grover, and helm Sartaj’s narrative. Kashyap, on the other hand, would step in once shooting commenced, and would direct Gaitonde’s plot. Motwane says that, as is common while filming such series, they too could have appointed a different director for each episode. “But the series, in a nutshell, follows two parallel stories. Every episode takes on from the last, so we couldn’t involve different directors.”

Motwane reveals that he found himself divided while deciding the backdrop of his adaptation. “I didn’t know if we should set the story in its time [‘90s] or make it contemporary. Gaitonde is unfailingly a character belonging to the ‘90s, so we decided to follow that. Vikram has been helpful. He read our script, and gave us important feedback. It can be hard for a writer to part with his material. That he allowed us to envision it as we like was a blessing.”

Sacred Games drives its inspiration from a tense narrative, yet the set of Kashyap’s venture was an antithesis. Trays full of cutting chai poured in from a nearby tapri, happy helpers smiled when offered hot vada pavs. The set of every Phantom Film production, I have come to notice, is a potboiler of mixed cultures. Friends who have frequently worked with them call it a day-long party. I could see why. A bunch of geeky ADs would discuss a Spielberg film. Elsewhere, women staffers would debate Nicole Kidman’s character in Big Little Lies, analysing the psyche of a woman using sex as a tool to fix relationships.

Amidst these enticing conversations, the DoP calls for a shot. Sporting an outlandish shirt and flashy glasses, Nawaz, a spitting image of the Gaitonde I had painted in my mind, walks in. The shoot goes on smoothly. Nawaz, with his bright smile, is in the mood to talk. “It feels good to play God na?” he asks. That’s how he describes his character. “Iss aadmi ko darr nahi lagta hai, kyunki woh bachta hi chala jata hai. He is perceived as someone who is morally incorrect. But that’s just a term that society creates. Gaitonde is a hardworking opportunist, a dreamer. He treats his women well. Even a gay man finds social acceptance around him. How do we decide if he’s right or wrong?”

Siddiqui’s partner-in-crime, Kashyap, lurks around with a grin. He’s happy on his set, like a child lost in a candy store. “Vikram and I were researching [on the subject] simultaneously. When he was writing this book, I was prepping for Black Friday (2007). Our sources were same — Rakesh Maria [former commissioner of police] and Hussain Zaidi [journalist, author]. The book is a compilation of facts that were later fictionalized.”

A victim of censorship, Kashyap finds the lack of it on the digital space liberating. “There’s no censorship here. Gujarati actors are allowed to speak their language because this isn’t a Hindi series. So, this is an Indian series in the true sense. There is diversity in this country, something that we haven’t been able to depict in our films. But you’ll see it here.”

Another gory scene is being canned at another part of the set. It involves a bunch of speeding cars, a deadly action sequence, and an injured Khan with a gash on his lip. Khan is almost poetic when talking about the experience. “The novel has romance for the city. There is a method to this chaos; it carries an inherent cinematic feel. Reading the novel gave me a better insight into the role. Sartaj is rich — there is angst, anger and personal pathos. He’s vulnerable.”

It’s refreshing to watch this bunch of artistes creating something with such fervour. Chandra has a high standard set for the venture — “Narcos is our competition; that’s the best and worst thing about this series.”


Nawazuddin Siddiqui in a still from Sacred Games