Sridevi's costume designer, Neeta Lulla, considers her a 'mentor'

Her first brush with stardom happened when 20-year-old Neeta Lulla began designing costumes for superstar Sridevi. A quirky photoshoot for a glossy set the relationship rolling.

Neeta Lulla, today a hi-profile fashion stylist and costume designer, having draped several divas, however is sentimental about Sridevi. The prima donna, with her insight and inspiration, helped young Neeta unveil her imagination.

Beginning with Chandni and then bagging the National Award for Lamhe, Neeta’s oeuvre with Sridevi in the ’90s includes films Khuda Gawah, Chand Ka Tukda, Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja… and Kshana Kshanam, Jagadeka Veerudu Athiloka Sundari in the South. Going radical with her palette and patron, if Neeta pitched orange with pink in Heer Ranjha, then lime and green was a unique introduction in ChaalBaaz…

Apart from the professional heft that Sridevi’s statuesque silhouette added to Neeta’s catalogue, what she reveres is her personal bond with the star.

In an industry where fashion and loyalties are ever-changing, Neeta’s ‘emotional connect’ with Sridevi remained en vogue.

A tribute to the late star in Neeta Lulla’s own words…

“While I was in college studying fashion, I happened to watch Himmatwala (1983). I was mesmerized by Sridevi’s sparkling presence. I hoped someday I’d get to design her costumes.

The opportunity came after Tamacha (1988). My work for Bhanupriya in the film was appreciated. Well-known photographer Rakesh Shrestha asked me whether I’d like to style Sridevi for a photoshoot. Naturally, I went ballistic. It was for the cover of the Movie magazine in 1989.

I went for the shoot with a small briefcase, which carried her ‘costume’. She was sitting with rollers in her hair, her make-up done. “Where’s the dress?” she asked. I replied, “In my bag!” A shocked Rakesh couldn’t help remark, “I am giving you a chance to work with Sridevi and you have come with this little bag!” I said, “Let me start the work.”

Mam graciously asked, “Do you want me to remove my rollers?” I asked her to keep them on. I took out this four-metre crushed tissue fabric from my bag and draped it around her head like a turban. I had carried a beautiful pair of earrings, which I made her wear along with gold make-up. “This is the shot!” I said. Mam loved the cover shoot. That particular photograph was sent for the Hall of Fame in London. The image was later used by the Lux brand.

Soon, I was asked to be part of Yash Chopra’s Chandni (1989) and later Lamhe (1991). Lamhe, where she played both the mother and the daughter, called for diametrically opposite set of clothes. An ethnic range was created for the mother. For the daughter, a modern wardrobe was required.

Srideviji worked along with me. She suggested the colours, the fabrics, the merging of borders, the schemes… Given her sharp fashion insight, she was no less an institute. For one scene in Lamhe, she wanted a maroon-yellow bandhini skirt. I looked hard for this particular combination, which was just not available. We found maroon with pink, maroon with white… but no maroon with yellow. I remember painting bandhini-like yellow squares on a maroon fabric to get the effect. She was so inspiring and pushed you to give your best. For 20-year-old me, she was a mentor.

Soon, I was part of almost all her films. Her strength was her ability to carry off anything with confidence. She could lose weight in a short time if it was required for a particular song or costume. Outfits appeared magical once she wore them.

A blooper that I once committed taught me a lesson for life. Srideviji was to participate in the Jumma Chumma show (Amitabh Bachchan spearheaded it during the ’90s) abroad. I was asked to make the tandav dance outfit of Chandni within three days.

On her return, she called me and sounded upset about this gaffe. I began crying even as I realised my blooper and spelt out where I'd gone wrong. Till date, I have never forgotten that basic lesson. I am thankful to her for bringing it to my notice.

Personally, ours grew to be an easy-going equation. I was the go-to-person after every shoot as I was working with her continuously. Those days there were no assistants or mobiles. Apart from films, we had to design costumes for photoshoots and events.

She’d walk in on the sets casually wearing just a shirt/trouser and mojris. She wouldn’t even slip her feet completely into them. Her explanation was, ‘I have to dress up every day. At least let me be comfortable before I start shooting’. Without make-up she looked as beautiful. There was a serenity on her face.

Years later, when I invited her to be the showstopper at my fashion show, she agreed without batting an eyelid. It was fun to dress her up again. Her aura and warmth were unchanged. She remarked how lovely she felt in my clothes. She also said she could never forget the amount of work we did together and the personal attention I always lent her.

I didn’t really feel insecure when she had other designers working for her. There’s so much work for all.

But if that person comes back to you for a particular costume, saying ‘you do it’ or only ‘you can do it’, it shows that the person depends on you. Like Srideviji once asked me to do the finale costume in Army (1996).

Through the years, whether we worked together or not, we always remained in touch. I messaged her on festivals and her birthday. She’d remark, "You never forget my birthday!" We also bonded over painting. Like her, I too paint. I’d like to remember her as a holistic person – a megastar and a mega human being.

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