Every day at 5 a.m., hundreds of people
gather in a nondescript lane behind Annapurna Studios in Hyderabad’s Krishna
Nagar. They are junior artistes waiting for casting agents to take their pick.
The chosen will have work for the day. For the rest, it is a choice between
going home and finding other employment.
Tollywood, as the Telugu film industry is called, is the second largest
in the country after Hindi. In 2011 the Censor Board’s Hyderabad office
certified 192 films. In addition, many low-budget films stalled at various
stages of production for various reasons. The city’s studios also make a number
of films in other languages. And Krishna Nagar, behind the swanky Jubilee Hills
and Banjara Hills, is where most of its junior artistes and low-level staff
reside.
The 6,000-odd aspiring actor, technician and director residents of
Krishna Nagar and surrounding areas live in the daily hope of making it big in
the movies. “Starry-eyed youngsters from small towns and villages may not know
much about Hyderabad, but they know all about Krishna Nagar,” says Harsha, an
artiste.
“People are categorised into junior artistes, dialogue artistes and
dancers. Junior artistes make up the crowd or are passers-by, while dialogue
artistes may have a line or two. They are also divided into class and mass,
depending on looks. As for dancers, they start by joining dance groups and may
slowly work their way up as choreographers,” explains casting agent Rama
Krishna.
It is the casting agents who call the shots. Though supposed to hire
only members of the AP Cine and TV Junior Artistes Union (membership costs
about `15,000), they hire part-timers and
newcomers, paying `100-150 a
day against the `350-500 for
members, and pocket the difference. The lack of opportunities means even
artistes with over 40 years of experience often look for work every day.
For dialogue artistes, paid `1,000 to `5,000 a day, the opportunities are fewer. A no-work day is spent
visiting production offices with portfolios or simply hanging around cafes in
the locality. As the industry is hierarchical, so is life at Krishna Nagar. If
dialogue artiste takes a junior artiste’s role he may never get another chance
at dialogue. Where one hangs around—Sri Sri Restaurant, Green Bawarchi, Manga
Hotel or Ganapathi Complex—defines the pecking order. At Sri Sri, which ranks
high, four to five artistes often share a cup of tea. Many work part-time
catering or painting. “I left my family at my village in Anantapur because I
can't afford to have them living here,” says Krishna, a father of two. “I send
them `1,000 a month, but even
that is difficult at times. I see my kids once or twice a year, but I tell them
whenever one of my movies releases so that they can watch me on screen.”
Krishna Nagar is about that one chance at the jackpot. Exploitation is
rampant but the dream of being the next Chiranjeevi or Ravi Teja is what drives
them all.
As Krishna puts it, this isn’t the place to cry about your hard lot.
“Your sob story couldn’t be sadder than that of the guy next in queue.”
Ashok, a young artiste
who also works with film set construction crews, on his bed that he rents for `30
a night at a lodge in Krishna Nagar.
Photos of
aspiring actors on display at a dance institute that also doubles as a casting
agency.
Early morning activity in Krishna Nagar.
Junior artistes as Taliban fighters in a Telugu movie which is partly based in Pakistan.
Pavan (32) came to the industry more than a decade ago. He now works at a hair saloon in Krishna Nagar, while also keeping an eye open for opportunities in the industry.
Frenzy at the union
office as an agent chooses artistes for the day’s shoot.
Young actors at a dance institute in Krishna Nagar.
is an independent photojournalist based out of New Delhi and Hyderabad.
