Anil Mishra, 44, is a spot boy. He has been waiting eight months to be paid for his work in Ganesh Acharya’s production Bhikari .
I meet him at the Film and Studio Setting & Allied Mazdoor Union office, where there’s a flurry of activity. Union president Prem Singh Thakur is busy signing cheques and handing them out. In front of him hangs a whiteboard with the names of companies that have cleared their dues. “Since morning, some 150 members — light men, spot boys, carpenters — have come to collect their payments,” says Thakur, opening up his tin ki peti to show me the bundles of cheques he’s received from various production houses.
In a landmark decision a few years ago, the union centralised the payment process so that all producers pay the union, which in turn disburses the money. But this process is far from flawless. Payments are still delayed, and worse, often less than the amount promised. “We fight for most payments as daily wagers cannot take on the production houses by themselves,” says Thakur.
Buyer’s market
Mishra used to double up as gofer, running errands for the 70-odd dancers in Bhikari . He claims he hasn’t even been paid for food and soft drinks he bought with his own money during the shoot. “The creditors are at my door. Poor people like us are in a dilemma. Should I run
my house or look for money to pay off these creditors,” asks a visibly upset Mishra, whose ambiguous role makes it more difficult to fight his case for fair wages. Running errands is just one of a list of odd jobs he does on the sets. He earns about ₹1,169 per day for films and ₹924 for TV serials.
It’s all part of the routine for workers at Filmistaan in Goregaon
Syed Mohammad Iqbal has been a light man for 37 years, following an unchanging routine. He would leave his house in Vile Parle at the crack of dawn and travel by train to far-flung corners of the city to pick up lighting equipment. He would check and load the equipment into a van and set out for the shoot location. He would have to arrive at the set before the rest of the crew to set up and prep. Sometimes his day ended at midnight. Iqbal has now worked in over 300 movies, including blockbusters such as Tezaab and Saudagar .
Around 2.5 lakh workers like Mishra and Iqbal grease the cogs of the money-spinning Hindi film industry that is estimated to be worth $3.7 billion by 2020. They are the first to arrive on the sets and the last to leave. But they are plagued by irregular pay, long shifts and poor amenities.
Eight months ago, things went horribly wrong for Iqbal. He was wrapping up a shoot at Madh Island when a wooden rod protruding from a socket box pierced through his calf, inflicting a deep wound. Out of a job, with little money for treatment, and suffering from a diabetic condition, the 56-year-old reached out to the film producers he had been working with at the time of the accident. “They said the accident happened after pack-up and they were not accountable. But the fact that I was still on the sets means they are responsible,” argues Iqbal. He approached the Film and Studio Setting & Allied Mazdoor Union, but despite their efforts, he couldn’t get compensation.
Stories like Iqbal’s spurred the Federation of Western India Cine Employees (FWICE) — a collective of 22 unions consisting of cine employees and workers including make-up artists, singers, dancers, music directors, stuntmen and spot boys — to call an indefinite strike last month to highlight the inadequate and delayed wages, unhygienic work conditions and unregulated work hours in the underbelly of Bollywood. The protest ended in the last week of August, when the union received an assurance from the Labour Ministry that they will convene a meeting to discuss workers’ concerns; but insiders say the differences among the unions meant the protest actually ‘failed’. That the lack of job security has meant that workers don’t demand their basic rights — it’s a buyer’s market.
The missing three
The biggest drawback is that despite the 45% entertainment tax levied by the Maharashtra government, Bollywood is not recognised as a structured industry.
This means its foot soldiers are denied regular employment benefits and are not shielded by labour laws. Employers exploit this ambiguity. Says Ashish Rego, treasurer of FWICE and a member of the All India Film Employees Confederation, “There is no clarity about whether the industry should come under the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting or the Labour Ministry.”
The other major issues are safety, security and facilities. Says documentary filmmaker and FWICE consultant Opender Chanana, whose book The Missing 3 in Bollywood chronicles these issues. “Most studios don’t have fire exits or fire extinguishers. Basic safety norms are violated. The lowest rungs of the profession are being short-changed.”
Recently, Saheb Alam, a 30-year-old light man, was electrocuted on the sets of Anushka Sharma’s Pari .
Rakhi Sawant with dancers on a set
Alam was rushed to hospital where he was declared ‘brought dead’.
The production house claims the worker didn’t adhere to safety norms and wear gumboots, but Iqbal believes otherwise, “Barring a few exceptions, most producers don’t provide safety belts and equipment, let alone raincoats or shoes for outdoor shoots,” he says.
And the absence of medical benefits adds to their woes. “During medical emergencies, people are forced to beg and borrow; banks don’t offer loans to workers,” says Rego.
Strikes have taken place fairly regularly in the industry, and demands have remained more or less the same. In 2008, more than a lakh workers went on strike over low wages and late pay.
Shah Rukh Khan and Amitabh Bachchan expressed solidarity with the workers. An MoU was finally signed, with producers promising to pay wages on time and eliminating middlemen while hiring extras. More recently, in October 2015, FWICE members, who were waiting for the producers’ nod for a hike in daily wages, went on a two day strike.
Not just a stunt
Possibly in a sign of things to come, this year saw a first-of-its-kind insurance scheme come into being in Bollywood, spearheaded by actor Akshay Kumar, which will provide stuntmen an insurance cover of ₹10 lakh. The scheme will help 380 stuntmen and women between the ages of 18 and 55.
Geeta Tandon, who worked in films such as Chennai Express and Singham , injured her spine while shooting Monopoly: The Game of Money in 2012 and also had her eyebrows and nose singed during a filming of a commercial.
“After 48 years, our fighters are finally getting their due. There were times I would get hurt staging a fall but I couldn’t get treatment for fear of losing my job,” she says. Today, Tandon, who started out in TV with Shakira , earns roughly ₹4,000 a day.
Things might improve further. Ashoke Pandit, president, Indian Film & Television Directors’ Association, says associations are coming together to draft guidelines that will keep in mind the interests of both producers and workers. But, as Chanana says, making the film industry part of the organised sector is the only way to protect workers under trade union laws. “Until that happens, things will not improve.”
In the last seven years, there has been only a 47% hike in the workers’ wages. A light man today can earn ₹988 for films and ₹824 for television per day. The Cine-Workers and Cinema Theatre Workers (Regulation of Employment) Act of 1981, updated in 1984, grants cinema workers the same rights as regular workers but it was never followed. “It is time to update, amend and implement it,” says Rego.
The Mumbai-based freelancer writes on films, food and everything in between.
