From irregular pay to poor amenities: The travails of Bollywood’s unsung heroes - the Spot Boys

Vibhash Singh was in a Film City recording studio when Uday Singh Dharyal collapsed, not too far away, on the sets of Sultan. Five months later Dharyal's widow Chandrakala still scrambles for compensation, and Singh still seethes.

Dharyal, who devoted 30 of his 53 years as a spot boy for Yash Raj Films, "did nasha" to cope with depression, Singh claims, adding that alcohol and drug addiction is common in his line of work.
"For many," he underlines, "it's the only respite."

Men Friday

In 1997, the year T-Series founder Gulshan Kumar was shot dead, Vibhash Singh left Shahgunj for Bombay to turn his acting dream into reality. But at a time producers, filmmakers and actors feared stepping out following Gulshan Kumar's murder, Singh's quest to find work in Film City morphed into a pipe dream.

Then eight months after sneaking onto film and TV sets and being shooed away, Singh was pulled into crowd scenes for Dharmesh Darshan's Mela and hired to do moulding work for the art department of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam.

"It hit me when I watched Aamir Sir (Aamir Khan) giving a take for Mela," he recounts over a forgotten cup of coffee. "I thought, 'S**t, I'll never be able to do that now'."

Now a fixture on the sets of Prakash Jha and Ajay Devgn productions, Fitoor, Rocky Handsome and the upcoming Dangal, spot boy Vibhash Singh is one of an estimated 40,000 workers greasing the cogs of the Hindi film machine. Of this lot (light men, technicians, art department workers, etc.), the work profile of the 'spot', gofer, or production boy – always the first on set and last to leave – is most ambiguous.

Caricatured as an actor's satellite who holds umbrellas over heads, sets chairs and serves chai to unit members, he is the nameless man in Anupama Chopra's Sholay: The Making of a Classic, the one who splashed water on Hema Malini's feet to relieve her after each take of the song Aa Jab Tak Hai Jaan. In Shobhaa De's Selective Memory: Stories from My Life, he ensures "a star never reaches for his wallet". He, the Man Friday of the Agneepath (1990) set, taught Mithun Chakraborty basic Tamil for his role as Krishnan Iyer MA – which fetched him the Filmfare award for Best Supporting Actor. He is Kumar Mangat, Ashok Mehta and Lawrence D'Souza before they became producer, cinematographer and director respectively. He was Subhash dada, whose death last year shook Shahrukh Khan, his boss of 25 years (although insiders say Subhashji was more assistant-secretary than spot).

"We are like Hanuman, carrying mountains wherever we go," Singh chimes. "For a 7am shift, we're up at 3:30-4am to reach godowns, load tempos with costume and equipment pethis (bundles), then organise the set, pitch tents, meet everyone's chai-paani preferences…"

He checks a list off his fingers. "Coffee, decaf coffee, adrak chai, jasmine tea, green tea, pata nahi kitne tarah ki tea, breakfast from Indigo, brunch from Taj…"

"Which actor have you had the best experience with?"

"Manoj Bajpai," comes the pat reply. "He's one of the few gentlemen around. He even funded my daughter's education."

Show us the money

Nearly 26km northwest of Singh's Dadar home lies Jurassic Park Lane in Malwani, Malad. This approach road to the Russian Villa set is aptly named for its Cretaceous state, its arm-span, cratered, sewage-ridden body used to ferry generators, props and costumes.

It is Sunil Kanojia's first day for Star Pravah's Marathi soap, Durva. The wiry 19-year-old hopes to become a caterer someday but until then, he's taking after father Premchand Kanojia. Premchand, a resident spot for Karjat's ND Studios, has worked with Govinda and Akshay Kumar and is mulling early retirement.

"Because he's fed up," Kanojia says. "He does serials now and it's a luxury to work less than 16 hours or get two days off a month."

As union members of Federation of Western India Cine Employees (FWICE) – India's largest cinema association – the Kanojias should get no less than Rs900 for working a maximum of 12 hours, five days a week. But producers regularly violate rules, making crew work round the clock without paying for overtime… or even the basic rate.

"Spots-in-charge give us only Rs600-700 and keep the rest as their 'cut'," Kanojia points out. "And many producers prefer non-union spots because they can pay far less and get away with it."

Much of the blame for hellish work environments in the TV industry lies on broadcasters increasing telecast frequency without adding much to episode budgets. As a result, producers get Scrooge-like at the expense of workers. Also consider that the salaries of production controllers and line producers depend on how much they can 'save' for a production house.

Workers' protests about pending dues or additional work often fall on deaf ears. When Kanojia refused to double as a sweeper on the set of the Marathi film Dil Bole Kukduku, he was given the boot.

"The biggest defaulters are those who fancy themselves as society's sentries: Crime Patrol and Savdhaan India," alleges FWICE treasurer Aashish Rego. "They make crew work round the clock, then employ goons to keep FWICE representatives from halting their shoots."

Sachin Mohite, director of Jaasvand Entertainments Pvt. Ltd., one of the producers of Savdhaan India, refutes the charges. His company keeps to the mandated hours and the permitted two 16-hour days, he claims. "Shift delays are inevitable due to rains, late arrivals on set and outages," he says. "We pay people for overtime and also give the second and fourth Sundays off."

Mohite reckons the worst offender is the disorderly nature of the entertainment industry. Citing official industry status and punctuality as solutions, he continues, in all seriousness:

"We start our shifts by praying to Ganpati bappa. Now if a spot boy hasn't got the agarbatti, that delay has a ripple effect. Light set-ups and fittings get postponed. So even the lack of an agarbatti can throw you off."

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No film actors worth their top rung salt move without drivers, hair stylists, personal assistants, make-up artists and security detail, and producers willingly bleed dry paying for entourages. In an interview last February, Mukesh Bhatt lambasted the practice and sniped at star spot boys charging more than film chartered accountants. But those unattached to corteges have it tough. Upcoming films Mohenjo Daro, Rustom and the third instalment of Hera Pheri have all made news for alleged non-payment of dues to workers.

Although the Maharashtra government levies 45 per cent entertainment tax, the film business' non-recognition as a formal industry thwarts chances of spot boys getting insurance, other benefits and claims. And negotiations after producer-worker impasses always work in the former's favour, says FWICE president Kamlesh Pandey, since workers never get all pending dues.

This is echoed by Vibhash Singh, who relays his time with the production team of Bombay Velvet. Made to work round the clock due to costume trouble during the Sri Lanka leg, he approached Anurag Kashyap twice for overtime payment, didn't receive his full due, then had to let go after the box office torpedoed the film.

All due respect

The best thing about Farah Khan's Om Shanti Om are the end credits. Nearly every department literally gets the red carpet treatment as the Dard-e-Disco remix plays in the background, with spot boys appearing in a white, three-door limo.

If only Khan had extended some of this largesse to the worker on Cyrus Sahukar's talk show, On the Bench. The uncensored version of the 2014 segment caused a flutter more for her use of f**k and its variations (really a non-issue) than for her addressing the spot boy as "Maa ki ch**t."

One may not know each crew member by name, but the least is to not be insolent.

Mohammed Salim Shaikh isn't a talker, but has much to say about this matter. The 43-year-old has worked with Pahlaj Nihalani (if you're wondering, he has only good things to say about him), Deepak Shivdasani, Jar Pictures and in films like No One Kissed Jessica and Gangs of Wasseypur I & II (in which he had a bit role as Perpendicular's masterji).

"The atmosphere on set is dictated by the captain (director) and assistant directors. If they behave well, the rest of the crew will too," Shaikh feels. "Satish Rajwade (Eka Lagnachi Goshta) is the most courteous director I've worked with. He treats actors and spot boys with equal respect."

But contending with "Abbe spot!" and hisses as clarion calls is a relative non-issue compared to discrimination in travel, food and accommodation. While Shaikh says he doesn't have it as bad as other production boys, he admits producers have the tightest budgets for workers.

"We're often given less food or served fewer dishes. One or two less sabzis, no meetha or no chairs in tents. So we sit on the ground and eat what we're given," he elaborates. "But things are better now."

A keen observer of the industry-that-isn't, film columnist Deepak Mahaan harks to when Mohammed Rafi and Amjad Khan would insist on their crews being served the same food and staying in the same hotel – a departure from herding workers in dormitories or tiny flats for outdoor shoots.

"I've seen spot boys in general compartments, without berths, for 36-hour train journeys. Packed like sardines, they are unable to sit, while coteries travel on first class air tickets," Mahaan tut-tuts. "Spots get no breather even after reaching their destinations because they have to set everything up for the shoot."

State of the union

On the dot of 4:30pm in Bhullar Garden, Madh Island, Purn 'Arjun' Chandragiri makes chai for the cast and crew of a Doordarshan serial. Arjun was the trusted spot for Ram Gopal Varma films – before Ram Gopal Varma ceased to be a force to reckon with. The Odisha native also heads a paan distribution business and 20-member family in Girgaum.

Once an FWICE member, Arjun opted for a Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) union card thinking it would make salary issues history. "Now I don't know how it benefits," he laughs. "They claim to help after retirement, fund your child's education if required and provide rooms, but abhi tak toh mila nahi. I haven't come across anyone who's got a room."

No union card, whether by FWICE, MNS, Shiv Sena, or the splinter group within the Film Studio Setting & Allied Mazdoor Union (FSS&AMU) equates to a job guarantee. Arjun, Mohammed Shaikh, Sunil Kanojia and Vibhash Singh unanimously say that networking and "tel lagana" (sycophancy) are the only surefire ways of getting work. Political unions, they say, are more inclined to raid sets and wring money from producers, 'non-members' and 'foreigners'.

Disregard for basic amenities and safety measures in Film City and outdoor sets add to the headache, says documentary filmmaker, author and FWICE consultant Opender Chanana. His book, The Missing 3 in Bollywood, chronicles worker violations and deaths in the Hindi film and TV industry. "As per my survey, the ratio of toilets in Film City is 1 or 2 every 75 people. I'd go as far as to say this is a violation of human rights."

Workers cannot use washrooms in vanity vans or make-up rooms unless an actor explicitly allows it. If Chanana's last decree sounds hyperbolic, chew on National Award-winning costume designer Loveleen Bains' claim: that an overwhelming number of female workers (junior artistes, hairdressers and those in the costume department) suffer from urinary tract infections (UTIs) due to non-availability of toilets and sufficient breaks. Many, she adds, walk as far as 4km within Film City to relieve themselves.

Such an environment adds to a spot boy's burgeoning problems. Yet, his unsung indispensability keeps alive an entertainment business worth a projected Rs196,400 crore.

Aadesh Khaire is seemingly one of the few without complaints. Minutes after walking onto the set at Poonawala Bungalow, Madh Island, the affable spot dada for Sony's upcoming Bade Bhaiya Ki Dulhaniya offers a

welcoming smile, water and tea. In that order. "I've worked in an animation studio, ad films and with this producer (Mautik Tolia) for years and never had problems," he says, joining his hands in prayer.
"I just got lucky."