Although Richa Chadha didn’t have as much screen time as the rest of the Heeramandi women, her’s was probably a performance that will stay with you the longest. She plays Lajjo, the perennially drunk and frightfully delusional middle-aged tawaif, who was sold to the brothels as a 6-year-old and groomed into the Heeramandi ways. Her’s is a quest for freedom, and she has brainwashed herself into believing that her nawab, the man she is in love with, is that knight in shining angrakha, who will get her out of this prison. “Lagta hai ab bohot jald azaad ho jayenge” she keeps saying. But when she gets her azaadi, it is not exactly what she had in mind, and the final disillusionment spells her doom.  The actor’s empathy beautifully gleans the character’s nuances from the complex back story, and she channels a mix of Miss Havisham of Great Expectations and Choti Bahu of Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam in the emotionally fragile Lajjo. The result is an exquisite performance that can be considered as Richa’s — an actor who has given us characters like Nagma Khatoon (Gangs of Wasseypur), Devi Pathak (Masaan)  or Bholi Panjaban (Fukrey franchise)—career-best work. We caught up with the actor to talk about Lajjo and what went on behind building such an impactful on-screen character: Excerpts: 

Although it is a Sanjay Leela Bhansali project, you have limited screentime. What made you pick up Lajjo?  

Actually, I was offered two other characters—which I will not reveal as that would be unfair to the actors who eventually played it—but I wanted Lajjo. For me, this character was an opportunity to show my range and versatility. Moreover, I had never attempted anything like this before; I knew it would surprise the audience. I took a very calculated risk of doing this character. And I think the risk has paid off.   

As an actor, how would you analyse the core of this character? What was in your actor’s notes while prepping for it?  

This character is many things—she is delusional, lovelorn, and a hopeless romantic, etc. But at the heart of it is her life as a tawaif. She wants to do something with her life, she is grappling with her reality and is craving for some sort of normalcy. Unlike the other women in the series, she is not after property or fame or power, she is just looking for love. All she wants is to have a happy life with the man she loves and who says he loves her. She's not succeeding, of course.  So, the spine of the character is the quest to feel normal and be accepted in a society that otherwise looks down upon women like her.  

You are a very outspoken and independent woman. How does Richa as a woman react to Lajjo the woman? 

You don't react to the characters. Because any reaction is like a judgement and you can't value judge the character you're portraying. 

She is lonely, she is heartbroken, the man she loves is gaslighting her and taking her for a ride; it is quite obvious that he is lying when he says he loves her. But you can’t judge her reactions to the circumstances based on today’s standards. She has the morality of a woman in the 1940s. You can't judge her by the standards of empowerment that exists currently. You have to judge her against her own childhood… imagine the abandonment issues of a woman who was sold by her relative into a brothel at the age of six. What would a person like that want? They want a sense of normalcy. They want someone to hold them and love them; they are craving for someone who would tell them that ‘your life is not worthless, you matter, and you are loved’  

You have mentioned your fight with mental health which was in some ways related to the misogyny inherent in Bollywood and patriarchal oppression. Did your lived experience help in connecting with the character in any way?  

We all have an experience of patriarchy. Do we not? But this is pure imagination, If I have to play a murderer, what kind of experience can I derive? If an actor has to draw in from his/her lived experience then to prep for Hannibal Lecter, Anthony Hopkins would have to eat people alive just to get the right character (laughs)! You have to use your imagination; there are so many things that go into making a lively, well-fleshed-out character.  

You have said that you drank alcohol before shooting the dance scene. As an actor, especially in a scene where you are doing a difficult classical dance, does it really help to get drunk in a drunk scene? Do you believe in Method acting?  

I feel an actor should do what they want to.  If Method acting works for you, do Method.  It doesn't work for me. I think it will drive me crazy.   

So, the alcohol actually didn’t help you do the scene? 

No, it didn't work. That was the day I had 99 retakes and I wasn't being able to find the perfect balance—it needed elegant dancing while the character was a little drunk, heartbroken, and delusional.  

Tell us about the dance sequence. Are you a trained kathak dancer?  

I am a trained dancer. But I don't have training of how to do a breakdown in real-time while dancing as a character who is a trained dancer. But that’s what was expected of me on that day, and it was tough. It was a one-minute shot, and it was one of the hardest things I've done in my career—it was a single take, and it was a long take. It required me to have that breakdown and it also required me to simultaneously do the teentaal tatkar footwork flawlessly in real-time. It required the hundred percent of my being. As an actor whenever I see my work I always feel that I could have done better, and that’s because I am greedy as an actor, but in this one, even looking back I can’t spot an ounce of lack of effort on my part.  

Yes, it was intense and very tough, but I would work with Mr Bhansali again in a heartbeat simply because he pushes you to do your best and give your most memorable shot. Also, if you are working with him, after a point nothing matters more than the shot…no ego, no mask, no other feelings, it is just the reality of that character in that shot and what the character is feeling in the moment. 

You had in a post credited your training under Barry John for the spotless rendition. Tell us something about that. 

He is my guru and the best thing about him is that he trains actors not to be clones of him, but to be actors who can think on their own feet, to be alive in the moment. What happens with a lot of actors is that they keep doing retakes, but eventually, it gets monotonous. The ‘aliveness’ of the scene suffers. 

If you as an audience have reacted in the exact same way I as an actor wanted you to upon watching the scene, it is because these are human emotions. You need not be in her shoes or relate to the world of the tawaifs in the 1940s, it’s your empathy that makes you feel Lajjo’s humiliation in real-time. And this empathy has to be created in that moment; it can’t be rehearsed or structured. It has to be authentic and have a lot of honesty—if it doesn’t have honesty, it will fall flat. 

So, how did you then get through those 99 retakes? 

It was very difficult. Because it takes a lot from you physically and emotionally — imagine that you are angry and on the verge of an outburst, but you have to control the outburst till the director says action! And then for each subsequent take, you have to get into the same mood and maintain that outburst. And therein lies why I don't do Method. Because if I did Method, I would have to live with the feeling of that outburst for a few days, which is not healthy for me.  It works for some people, but not for me.  

But then it also depends on the character. Suppose I am playing a visually challenged character, or like Kalki so brilliantly did in Margarita with a Straw…she had to practice having a lack of coordination in her body to play the character. In such cases, if you don’t prep your body, the movements will look fake and stilted when you give the shot. Even for this dance sequence, even though I am a trained dancer, but Lajjo is someone who is taking dance lessons from maybe when she was just about 8-year-old. So, whatever emotional trauma she is going through, her feet will operate in that teental, for her, it is like swimming or driving a car. So, I have to keep the footwork on the beat — even if I cry or die, with my facial expressions — woh nahi change hoga. So, you need to physically prepare in a way that you ‘become the character’.  

And what were the most crucial learnings from your theatre days that have helped in your Heeramandi performance? 

I think just the sheer importance of hours of practise and of being true in the moment. And not having an ego.  At the end of the day, with a master creator like Bhansali, I don't have to go out of my way, because he's not going to pass an okay shot any way. But being from theater has made me so hungry as an actor that for me it is crucial that I put in the maximum effort and give my best shot. For me it doesn’t matter if Mallika Jaan is the main lead of this show. Theatre teaches you to be part of a show and to do your bit the best way you can…it is not about playing the lead or getting the maximum screen time. 

You made your debut in 2008 with Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! At that time, did you imagine yourself pulling off something like this in the future? And looking back how do you rate your debut performance? 

Absolutely. That actor and I are the same people. If you watch my first film, I sometimes look at that first film and think that Wow, I put in so much into that first film. Although I was very young — I was about 21 and I had gotten the part through an audition — the performance was very mature. I was watching it recently to make a showreel and saw that usmein bhi maine apni poori jaan daali hai. And it should be like that; your filmography should reflect your range and versatility as an actor. My quest is always to surprise myself and surprise the audience and get lost in the moment. That's why I chose this life. 

Woman of Characters 

Richa Chadha Picks Her Top Five Favourite Onscreen Avatars: 

Nagma Khatoon in Gangs of Wasseypur: Nagma is as entrenched in patriarchy as any man. She didn’t want to marry Sardar Khan at all but once she is married into the family of crime, she wants her son to take revenge. She understands her position as a woman who has been cheated upon and abandoned. She is brave but has a huge ego that almost pushes her to the point of self-destruction.  

Bholi Punjaban in Fukrey: She's truly one woman who doesn't care about gender. She runs a crime business like a business empire and thinks of herself like a businesswoman. She has no filter thinking that I can't do this because I'm a woman; she thinks that she can, and she can do it better than any man.  

Devi Pathak in Masaan: She has a very healthy sexual curiosity, which is normal for a girl who is in her mid-twenties and wants to explore that without being shamed for it. And even after her lover dies, kind of abandoning her, she doesn't think that she did anything wrong. She feels remorse, but I don't think she feels guilt per se, but she feels sad that it happened. The story is about her personal grief. 

Tara Roopram in Madam Chief Minister: She wants to destroy outmoded ways of thinking. She is a Dalit but has no sense of inferiority because of her caste. She is taking on the system armed with an astute understanding of what needs to be done. But somewhere along the way she gets lost in the trappings of power… because power corrupt. The film ends up becoming a character study than just a political story.  

Dolly in Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!: It was my debut and hence will always remain close to my heart. I understood her desperation to be identified as gentry – she had an aspirational desire to be seen as someone who was upper class while being very, very middle class to the point of being tacky almost.