In scale and reach, the Telugu film industry, or Tollywood, is second only to its counterpart in Hindi. An average of 200 Telugu movies are produced every year, not counting several other low-budget films that get stalled at various stages of production and movies in other languages shot in the studios of Hyderabad.
Not too far from the studios, in the busy warren of Krishna Nagar — nestled in the shadows of posh neighbourhoods like Jubilee and Banjara Hills — live most of the industry’s junior artists and workers. The 6,000-odd aspiring actors, technicians and directors live on little but air and hope.
“Starry-eyed youngsters from small towns and villages may not know much about Hyderabad, but they all seem to know Krishna Nagar well. They ask the autowala to take them there, the moment they arrive in the city,” says Harsha, an artist who prefers not to reveal his second name, a practice that apparently has its roots in the caste hierarchies of the industry.
From sharing matchbox rooms in crowded tenements to downing bottles of beer whenever a paycheck arrives, life here is all about chasing 70mm dreams, about that elusive break, which could pave their way to fame and glory. Exploitation is rampant here, but it is the dream of being the next Chiranjeevi or Vijayashanti that keeps them going. “Someone might survive on bananas for days on end, but you ask him what he ate and he’ll always say that he has just had biryani at Green Bawarchi. This isn’t the place to cry and crib about how bad life has been. Everybody has a sob story, yours could not be sadder than that of the guy next to you,” says Kumar, a ‘dialogue artist’, who is lucky to have snagged a few bit roles with a dialogue or two.
(Harsha Vadlamani is a Hyderabad-based photographer)