I don’t know if you are yet to be bedazzled by the glam quotient of The Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives. Not a terribly original concept as basic research throws up a show called WAGS which is an American docu-series tracking the lives of WAGs- wives and girlfriends of famous sportspersons in 2015-2017 that ran for three reasons. The Indian version is hilarious in parts, predictable in others but a fun watch irrespective of its authenticity. The show made me question how fat are the paychecks these wives cut through their jewellery and fashion labels? Considering most of their husbands are out-of-work for decades, yesteryear stars or semi-celebrities who have hardly been newsmakers, forget roped in decent moolah through films, how do they afford the lives that they have? In fact, that’s one thing they all have in common besides their insecurities, wannabe-quotient and superficial bearings- their unsuccessful husbands. Yet, they are wearing the best labels, holidaying in Doha, digging in to sumptuous food at the best restaurants in Mumbai and living it up in plush residences in Juhu and Bandra.
The fact that the show is produced by Karan Johar also means there is a strong catty pitch at which the melodrama of these women’s lives operate. So we see him coming in at vital junctures to stir things up and play these gal pals against each other. To him, they are mere pawns he is having a gala time spinning around his chessboard to cater to the mass’ need for masala. So yes, they all swear by their 25-year-old friendship and yet you have Maheep sound disappointed when Seema and Bhavna do not have a massive showdown and get at each other’s throats after a difference of opinion. They all take jibes at each other in a condescending manner- like Bhavna’s spiritual leanings, Neelam’s prim and proper approach to life and Seema’s fear of flying. Maheep’s foul language would send my mother’s sense of equilibrium for a toss considering none of that is censored in the presence of her kids as well but then what do we with our humble middle-class virtues understand of the high-strung dynamics of our film industry’s hoi polloi? In true classic KJo style, nepotism is out there for some kicks as Sanjay Kapoor rues about how that didn’t get him the big budget blockbusters even as the next generation of kids gets groomed to make a dashing entry. So what if none of them can barely string two words in Hindi, Bollywood was never about getting your diction right, right? So while most average mothers in India are fretting over GRE and GMAT scores for their children, we have Maheep prepping her daughter Shanaya for a ball. Yeah, this is a fairytale world so why were you expecting anything to look remotely real. Le Bal as it is called is a French soiree where nubile nymphets of viable age strut their stuff, coming in to their own. It’s where every star daughter has to sashay into, armed with her proud father to regale people in an almost theatrical dress-up shenanigan. Chunky Pandey’s daughter Ananya’s already been there so there is no chance Shanaya can not go.
The grapevines would have you know that there have been strong seismic waves underneath Maheep and Bhavna’s flowery friendship ever since KJo decided to launch Ananya in his Student of the Year instead of Shanaya. The show would hardly let you guess that with the camaraderie they all put up for our benefit. All the shallow hypocrisy that makes up this tomfoolery culminates in the ball of all balls- an invite to Badshah Khan’s inner sanctum- only here it is the Queen- Gauri Khan who holds stage, throned in the snazzy comforts of Gauri Khan Designs- whatever that is because the only designs on display are the ones that people are faking on each other. So all the lesser known Bollywood wives end up paying their obeisance to the first lady and man of Indian cinema as millennials may not know it- SRK and Gauri Khan. Got me thinking what that made people like Dilip Kumar-Saira Banu, Amitabh-Jaya Bachchan or even Akshay Kumar-Twinkle Khanna considering their standing in Bollywood as original superstars and joint net worth as in the case of the third couple should be astronomical as well. Anyway, this is a world invaded by KJo and hence, the world begins and ends at the feet of this power couple who own and relish ‘jannat’ as well as Mannat. They are in their element as gracious hosts, showering compliments and blessings with full gusto on the families of the lesser mortals. You only wonder how far this charade goes behind the cameras and what these people-pleasing manners ultimately result in. There is a befuddled looking Siddharth Kapoor loitering at this party with no contemporaries in sight. Hmmm….but the unintentional highlight of this glitzy show is Sameer Soni who swings on the balls of his feet as he gloats about his memory of remembering people’s sunsigns with glazed eyes and a slurring tongue. Red Bull and vodka, they would have us believe. Bullshit, I say.
Why I still survived eight episodes of this great Bollywood drama- Maheep’s confession about spying on people with her binoculars, Neelam’s braving a cosmetic session to get her skin tight, Raveena’s frank and friendly advice to Neelam to go for it when it comes to her comeback without a hint of rivalry, that cute French guy who served drinks topless at Mondrian, Seema’s little pep talk with Malaika Arora about motherhood and living it up as a single parent professionally…there are many such moments in the show that keep you hooked and seem genuine enough to hold your attention. I added it to my watchlist as soon as I heard this line from Maheep in the trailer: “Of course we go shopping in a Rolls-Royce. Is there any other mode of transportation?” My husband thought I should watch it alone but gave in to binge-watching it with me with the first episode itself. And it made me feel slightly better for ogling at the luxurious locations and eateries these not-so-demure damsels flocked at. If Seema DM’s a Kardashian and Neelam’s ultimate goal is to sleep in the same bed as SRK and JLo previously did at the Mondrian, I can’t be questioned for making a list of places I want to hit next time I am in Mumbai right. I much prefer crabs in butter garlic sauce to their human versions you see.
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