‘Heeramandi' | The Diamond Bazaar’ series review: Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s dazzling soap opera | Web-Series |

Filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s eight-part Netflix series is stunning to behold, yet its frequent soap opera-ness insulates the grandeur

Heeramandi flourishes with an extravagant and powerful nature from start to finish. It's like Sanjay Leela Bhansali, coordinating his most memorable streaming series, is every one of the more relentless we miss the big screen. In Lahore, a concubine, Mallikajaan, sad and cornered by destiny, sobs before a chimney, throwing bits of valuable gems into the debilitated flares. The whole chateau is wreathed in spooky shadows. At the point when a voice gets down on and a drapery is separated, we notice the haveli across, its inside swirling and aglow with celebration and chuckling. It is an entrancing second in the series, passing on more through its exchange of light and dim than any plot turn or wonderful expression.

There is a ton of verse in Heermandi. As usual, and absolutely energized by the setting and time span of pre-Autonomy India, Bhansali broadcasts his worship for the Sufi and Urdu greats. The melody that reports the appearance of spring, 'Sakal Boycott," streams from an Amir Khusrow sonnet, and there are notices of Ghalib, Mir, Zafar, and Niyazi. One of the chief characters, Alamzeb (Sharmin Sehgal), is a yearning poetess, similar to Rekha in Umrao Jaan (1981). There are bunches of discussion that are essentially vague from stanza to stanza. "I will serve you couplets for breakfast and sonnets for lunch," Alamzeb admonishes her pledged. She should address the watcher.

Alamzeb is the little girl of Mallikajaan (Manisha Koirala), the lady of Shahi Mahal, a world-class whorehouse in the delight region of Lahore, Heera Mandi. Mallikajaan has another little girl, Bibbo (Aditi Rao Hydari), an acclaimed songstress and progressive covert operative. It's the 1940s, with opposition against the Raj acquiring strength. The unctuous nawabs serve their unfamiliar masters for titles and assurance. In any case, the mistresses truly call the tunes, protecting their supporter's mysteries and, now and again, driving them to destroy.

A bunch of emotional flashbacks gets the series rolling. Mallikajaan, it unfolds, has mysteries of her own — a loathsome crime from quite a while ago, covered and quieted with the guide of the debased nawab Zulfikar (Shekhar Suman). Once uncovered, it ignites a fight for control among her and Fareedan (Sonakshi Sinha), an opponent prostitute who implants herself in Heera Mandi and starts raising a ruckus.

The plot turns on Fareedan's intricate plans for vengeance, an ungracefully prospering sentiment — among Alamzeb and a defiant youthful nawab, Tajdar (Taaha Shah) — and the unsettling of the progressives. The detestable police director, Cartwright (Jason Shah), floats around, searching for skeletons. Bhansali and his essayists take time uniting the numerous strands. Notwithstanding the impeccable sights and sounds on offer, it turns into a significant delay. It doesn't help that the exhilarating political background of the time is painted in overgeneralized terms (there is no notice of the Muslim Association and the interest for a different Pakistan state).

Heermandi: The Diamond Bazaar (Hindi)

Director: Sanjay Leela Bhansali

Cast: Manisha Koirala, Aditi Rao Hydari, Sonakshi Sinha, Sharmin Segal, Taaha Shah, Fardeen Khan

Episodes: 8

Run-time: 45-65 minutes

Storyline: The intrigues and power struggles of courtesans in revolutionary-era India

(L to R) Manisha Koirala as Mallikajaan, Jayati Bhatia in ‘Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar.’ | Photo Credit: Megha Chattani/Netflix

Heera Mandi, a real neighbourhood in Lahore, was established in Mughal times, with its courtesans amassing considerable wealth and influence down the ages. There is a fascinating history of tawaifs contributing to the freedom struggle (Bibbo’s character, for instance, appears modelled on Azizun Bai, a Kanpur courtesan who fought against the British during the 1857 revolt). Yet, in calling our attention to these unsung heroes, Bhansali and his writers tend to go emotionally overboard, drawing well-meaning yet awkward parallels between the characters and India under British rule. Mallikajaan is taunted by Zulfikar for practising ‘divide and rule’. We are like birds in a gilded cage, Bibbo says, much like India — a golden bird in an imperial cage. In a surreal sequence, a funeral meeting transforms into an impromptu freedom song, atawaif’s emancipation via death likened to a nation gaining ‘azaadi’.