Mukherjee on foraying into the digital space with the role of a life coach in Imperfect, and the place of seasoned actors in cinema
Shaheen Parkar (MID-DAY; November 2, 2018)

Over three decades later, Sushmita Mukherjee is still remembered as Kitty from director Pankaj Parashar’s show, Karamchand, which aired on Doordarshan in the mid-80s. She played the dim- witted secretary of the carrot- chomping detective Karamchand (Pankaj Kapur) in the series. “Though it was a different generation, I still find people referring to me as Kitty. It’s sweet, and I feel nice about it. But my sons are amused when anyone calls me that. I tell them it was [relating to] a time before they were born,” she says.

Known for her comic timing, Mukherjee, who dabbles in films, TV and theatre, is now exploring a new platform. She makes her debut with Anand Tiwari and Amritpal Singh Bindra’s series, Imperfect, which dropped on a digital platform yesterday. “It is now and happening, so I was keen to give it a shot. It’s like a film shoot, where you are given a bound script, so you can do your homework and know your graph. It’s unlike TV, which is determined by TRPs. What was also interesting is that the show is being helmed by a female director duo — Vidhi Gulati and Ruchi Joshi.”

Imperfect, which is in Hindi and English, has Mukherjee play a life coach. “My character, Simi, is sassy and bossy. She is not the typical 50-plus aunty. She has been an item girl and enjoyed considerable fame, and now, she imparts philosophical lessons.”

Unlike TV and films, Mukherjee finds that the digital medium offers many opportunities to seasoned actors like her to play roles other than that of a mother or aunt. “I wish the show was a bit longer though as it is only a 10-episode run.”

Mukherjee, who is also seen on the soap, Krishna Chali London, is in talks for another web show, which sees her plays a silver-haired granny. Last seen on the big screen in Batti Gul Meter Chalu, she says she is open to all kinds of good roles. With husband (Raja Bundela), she does theatre, which keeps her busy throughout the year. She also has a book that will be published soon.

Returning to the stage after 18 years, this actor has come a long way from her detective sidekick days
Kunal Guha (MUMBAI MIRROR; November 27, 2016)


Despite investing almost three decades, Sushmita Mukherjee admits that she’s still not completely cured of “performance anxiety”. Her “desire to share” brings her back to the stage after 18 years with the solo piece Naribai, which premieres at the NCPA this evening and is based on her second unpublished novella where Mukherjee delivers 23 avatars. Her first novel Juhi Devi’s Baby (tentative title) is pending publication with Speaking Tiger and is expected next year. Leaning on the couch of her Oshiwara office, the actress laments, “My TV shoots barely allow me time to rehearse,” says the actress who has just returned from Naigon where her TV show Gangaa is being shot. “All my rehearsals have happened in my bedroom, by myself.”

Mukherjee’s chain of thought trails back to 1988, when she worked in an adaptation of Dario Fo’s play Female Parts called Ek Akeli Ek Subah. “I was shooting for Ravi Baswani’s Hakke Bakke with Priya Tendulkar and staying at Kanishka Hotel in Delhi and the double bed in my room was my stage. My classmate Atul Tiwari, who directed the play, sat on a chair and gave instructions,” she smiles.

Fresh out of the National School of Drama then, it is when Mukherjee founded the Natak Company along with friends. “But my initiation into theatre was when I was 16. I am a protégé of Badal Sircar, the greatest experimental theatre personality of India. We were a part of the ‘juggi jhopdi’ branch of theatre in Delhi. He was inspired by the Polish theatre legend Jerzy Grotowski,” says Mukherjee, who is excited about performing at similar makeshift venues again.

“We plan to stage Naribai in New York and DC at warehouses and other unconventional venues next year.” While Naribai is a bare nuts-and-bolts setup, she’s enthralled by the scale of productions today. “I recently watched Mughal-E-Azam and it was so grand — all those red skirts twirling simultaneously,” she smiles.

By the time she graduated from NSD, “theatre had acquired elaborate sets, props and lights. Prior to that, it was me, my words and my body as an instrument.” As it turns out, Naribai also has rudimentary production needs — “just a chair, an umbrella, a handbag and no specific lights”. This, however, is no coincidence. “Over the years, I’ve realised that theatre should be less performance and more sharing.” Inspired by her visits to Bundelkhand, where her husband, actor, producer and activist Raja Bundela hails from, Naribai is the story of a woman who meets her estranged friend after 35 years, and how her association with a ‘bedni’ (sex worker) alters their lives. “In 2002, for my documentary Humne Suni Kahaani, on the lives of women in Bundelkhand, I interviewed a bedni — a sex worker who performed a beautiful traditional folk form called Rai, which has been bastardised over the years. That stayed with me. Having frequented the region, I learnt the language and wanted to weave a story around it.”

Writing is something Mukherjee has done throughout her career, sometimes even without credit. “I’ve been a ghostwriter for long. I wrote my first play in 1990 called Nati, referring to Nati Binodini, Bengal’s famed sex worker-turned-actress. MS Sathyu did the sets and Surekha Sikri penned the dialogues. I wanted to make a film on it, but that didn’t transpire.”

Her hiatus from theatre was because she and Bundela “got busy producing a lot of TV shows”. Being synonymous with Indian television’s most iconic detective drama Karamchand, where she played the detective’s feisty assistant Kitty, Mukherjee, who has “never taken a break from TV”, feels the medium isn’t the same anymore. “We did 39 episodes of Karamchand over two years. Now, we have 5000 episodes,” laughs the actress.

“When I had my two sons within a gap of a year in the late 90s, I wanted to give time to family. Now, they’re 22 and 23.” While the elder is in advertising, the younger is studying towards a PhD in Biochemistry in New Zealand. “I’ve never interfered with their career choices because my parents didn’t with mine,” she says, with a disclaimer that “they weren’t initially excited about it though”. “Like all Bengali parents, mine were academically inclined and wanted me to pursue IAS or become a teacher. Theatre and ‘nachonkodon’ was not really a career option. There was a rumour that I am comedian Keshto Mukherjee’s daughter, but I am from Delhi and my father had a government job.”

Apart from her stage comeback, Mukherjee also has a packed slate of film releases in the coming year — Kunal Kohli’s Phir Se, Bundela’s Alex Hindustani, Amol Gupte’s Sniff and Jeffrey D Brown’s Sold, which also stars Gillian Anderson and David Arquette. “Sold will be have its India premiere at the Khajuraho International Film Festival next month,” she says of the film festival her husband founded last year. “I am just handling the backend.”

Roshmilla Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; March 3, 2015)

Mahesh Bhatt had planned his 1993 gangster drama, Sir, with Sadashiv Amrapurkar playing the main baddie, Chhappan Tikli, and Gulshan Grover as his demented but dangerous younger brother, modeled on a character from The Godfather series. But just three days before the film was to roll, Sadashiv pointed out to Bhatt that in a crowd of 'serious' actors like Naseeruddin Shah, Paresh Rawal and him, a 'commercial' actor like Gulshan stood out and should be replaced.

When prodded, Bhatt though reluctant to speak ill about someone who is no more, admitted that it was true. "The facts don't change," he sighed. "It's true that after the success of Sadak and his character Maharani, Sadashiv had begun to feel that Gulshan was not on par with the so-called talent quotient of the rest of the cast, a statement which I thought was somewhat pompous and reeked of arrogance."

Unaware of this, Gulshan had got himself clicked wearing his son's bermudas and came to Bhatt with the photographs wondering if he'd got the 'look' of his character right. He was told that he had been elevated in the cast and would be playing Chhappan Tikli. "The set at Mukesh Mills is ready. We start shooting the day after tomorrow," Bhatt informed the astounded actor.

"After Sadak, Sadashiv was a saleable name with distributors and it was unthinkable for me to replace him. But the Bhatts have never been against 'commercial' actors who they believed were more popular with the audience," points out Gulshan, who got a two-hour briefing during which Bhatt told him that he didn't want him to play Chhappan Tikli like a regular villain. Instead he was a hero determined to avenge the death of his brother, who was stripped and hanged, by doing the same to rival ganglord Veljibhai's daughter. "The character I was to play earlier, was turned into a woman, Sweety, played by Sushmita Mukherjee, and I was told to use my 'genius quality' to translate the information into a visual."

Gulshan obliged by doing a photo shoot with Times of India photographer, Pradeep Chandra, wearing his own designer suits and getting his make-up man, Suresh Sharma to create the pox marks on his face using cosmetics.

"I realised instantly that unlike Ram Lakhan's outlandish, in-your-face bad man, Chhappan Tikli was more subtly menacing, someone you would steer clear of despite the outward gloss," says Gulshan, who incorporated Mahesh Bhatt's mannerism of whipping off his glasses when angry into the character.

The glasses, he used in the film, were a gift from an actress friend. And the only scene where he takes them off carefully is when 'Sir' Naseer comes to him proposing a truce with Veljibhai and Chhapan Tikli tells him quietly, "Tu yahan se vapas jayega kaise, yeh socha hai." After the scene, Naseer who was a dear friend and respected Gulshan as an actor, applauded his performance.

The quiet menace was what made Chhappan Tikli memorable. Gulshan remembers a scene where he meets with his six-feet plus henchmen, reprimanding them for losing to a rival. The scene that had been penned was a cliche which had him raging, ranting and firing bullets in the air randomly. Gulshan wasn't impressed and nor was Bhatt who told him to throw the page away and create something new.

"He told me I should be feeling as frustrated as a director whose leading man after giving them a day to complete his portions hasn't turned up all morning but whose unit was still happily sitting down to lunch, wondering what was for dessert. From that analogy, we worked out a scene whereby Chhapan Tikli quietly sits down to lunch with his men and then suddenly overturns the table asking them how they can eat and digest the food knowing what has happened before," reminisces Gulshan.

That gave not only his men but the audience plenty of food for thought.