There are a fair few things that make you want to write about something, especially a TV show. Being in possession of the same vibrator as the lead character in the show shouldn’t be one, but here we are.

Masaba Masaba (2020; dir: Sonam Nair) is a semi-fictional take on the life of fashion designer Masaba Gupta and the arcs that surround her life, including but not limited to her life as a celebrity on the intersection of fashion, Bombay cinema, her relationship with her mother, the prolific actress Neena Gupta, and navigating her life as a recently-single 30 something struggling adult. In another way, it’s a montage of her Instagram posts and somehow, how each post comes to life and the story behind it. In another, it’s a mirror to the 30 something, the pre-lib child who’s now attempting to be a grown-up in a world that is astonishingly hard to understand, especially when you’re struggling to keep your finances together but also gotta support your friend selling you bullshit at a premium, because, art.

There are things I could tell you about Masaba which are a short Google search away from—who is Masaba, her life with the matriarch, the single mom Bollywood celebrity who brought her up alone, her brand House of Masaba, her ex-husband, and her breezy Instagram post captions (just how do you do that in under 6 drafts, please tell me sensei). However, I am not Google and this is not Pinkvilla-trash. You are a few clicks and searches away from salacious gossip, blinds, and a Wikipedia update on her life.

No, I’m kidding. Pinkvilla isn’t trash. The job market is bad, what if I want a job with Pinkvilla at some point? Also, what is to my credential truly that I can diss Pinkvilla? A ScrollStack creator ID and a debut post?

That leaves us with very little to talk about, if not, Masaba gossip, then what?
If not the Supreme Leader, then who(mst)?

I digress, and I shouldn’t. Especially when the TV show is a heartfelt piece of art and needs no inauthentic affective response.

Masaba Masaba is refreshing; an oasis in the midst of complicated crime thrillers and oversimplified comedy specials. It’s like sipping chilled Diet Coke with two cubes of ice on a hot Summer day when you’ve returned to work from a meeting, just before lunch. It calms you, to the right degree and excites you in the right proportion.

Masaba Masaba is the television equivalent of that perfect glass of Diet Coke. You don't want it to end too soon but it just does, leaving you wanting for more, in a good way.

A lot of you, I presume, may have preconceived notions about her or her brand or her life or not at all. It’s difficult to shake it off. I won’t lie, I did too. Why won't I? I have trust issues. I don't trust anyone with over 50 likes on an average of an Instagram post, how do you expect me to believe a celebrity is worth watching on Netflix. Shouldn't I spend my time on the Kardashians now that the Indian Netflix offers that instead of streaming 144p on Daily Motion?

In the Summer of ’15, I was at a bar with a bunch of friends to mark someone’s birthday. Over a glass of badly made, overpriced cocktails, I hung out with a fashion magazine writer party acquaintance (y’know, the kind you hang out with through 2-3 parties in a year and you move in related circles and your only point of connection are parties. You don’t fraternize with them outside of the parties and don’t expect them to either).

That night, that party acquaintance confessed to many an insider reveals on Masaba including, 

“She (Masaba) is really not talented; it’s her mom who’s promoting her and doing all her work and she’s surviving through her mom’s name. She wouldn’t be anywhere without her.”

Almost half a decade later, watching the show felt like a rebuttal to that night and that acidic conversation. Masaba recreates the struggle to move out of her mom’s house and has a troubling argument where she says that she feels stifled under her mother’s watchful eye. That moment was freakishly relatable and a much-needed answer to the open-ended information that was fed to me years ago. 

Perhaps, I would have spent the remaining life in the belief that Masaba is truly just her mother’s shadow and nothing more. Perhaps, it was out of sheer laziness that I never bothered to read up any more than what an occasional cursory visit to her profile would tell her million followers and curious bystanders. From the first episode itself, it’s impossible to not root for Masaba, even if it means it’s the screenplay writers’ that ought to be appreciated. You can’t help but cheer for her, most steps of the way. Especially when she has a giant, angry monologue on attempting to find a house as a woman who is single and also happens to be a celebrity.

Arguing with your parent on spatial politics in your residence is a conversation most of us have had at some point; I’m especially eyeing those who have been circumstantially bound to live with their parents beyond the age of 21. The specific conversations relating to the struggles of Masaba's attempts to 'live alone' couldn't have been framed better. It hit home with every dialogue. You don't need to be divorced or celebrity to reckon with the struggles. It's immensely authentic and relatable.

While the people involved with the show have formally stated on how it’s “got beautiful clothes on” and is “not a naked reality”, it’s something of a sensitive revelation between mother and daughter, I still think there were moments and that made the show immensely relatable. Here’s a helpful list of things Masaba and her Mummy did throughout the show.

 1)    Followed each other’s life and updates through social media instead of one-on-one interaction through difficult times.

2)    Lived in the afterglow of being born to a “badass mom” and raising a demanding child.

3)    Had passive-aggressive and aggressive arguments with one another on life, relationships, and upbringing.

4)    Asked for help/attention to help pick the outfit for a big day.

5)    Asked them to stay back home/returned home after a bad day.

6)    Asked for parantha with achaar after a particularly difficult day.

7)    Rooted for each other despite being in the middle of an inter-family Cold-War.

 (My mum and I cross each of these, hence this needed to be highlighted in bullet form.)

Director Sonam Nair deserves all praises for being able to put the sentiment in visuals without adding any garnishes or being stingy with the essence of the moment. It’s almost like going back to your childhood and wondering if you’re the only one, only to realize you’re not. Others like you have struggled much the same. In many ways, Masaba is nothing like any other 30 something I know. She’s had a childhood surrounded in controversy and then an adult life in the midst of blind items and gossip. For Nair, to highlight this, viz a vis Masaba, and make that moment relatable is commendable.

For those of you who have their residential address online, Masaba Masaba is nothing more than a dramatic reading of the Instagram posts of years since her divorce and her coming of age. For others, it’s a fresh take on raising and co-existing with the parental unit in a digital age of authentic hashtags and reproductions.

(Masaba Masaba can be streamed on Netflix in India.)