First Impressions and the Birth of an Idea
When Aditya Dhar first chatted with Smriti about the upcoming Dhurandhar project, the conversation was as informal as a chai break at a Mumbai studio canteen. "Dearest Smriti, I still remember one of our very first conversations, when we spoke about how Jaskirat starts with a hint of colour and how, by the end, Hamza is almost swallowed by black," Aditya Dhar wrote. That line might sound poetic, but for two friends planning a film it was actually a practical cue: how the visual tone would shift as the story progressed.
Aditya Dhar said the idea was "a tiny, slightly mad detailing idea" – almost like a quirky thought that pops up while waiting for the metro. Smriti, with her keen eye, held onto that fleeting spark. It was a moment that made Aditya Dhar realize something: "That’s when I knew 😊".
What stood out for Aditya Dhar was Smriti’s lack of pre‑conceived notions about how a film should look. "Because while you kept saying, ‘Adi Sir, I don’t know if I’m the right person for this,’ I was sitting there thinking, ‘This is exactly why you are.’ You didn’t come with baggage. You didn’t come with a fixed ‘style’ of what this world should look like. You came with honesty and that dangerous thing called ZIDD," the filmmaker noted. ZIDD, as Aditya Dhar explained, is that stubborn determination that refuses to settle for anything less than perfect.
The Costume Marathon: Numbers That Shock Even the Crew
Now, let’s talk numbers – because Indian film crews love to brag about them. Smriti’s team stitched more than ten thousand costumes across Dhurandhar and its sequel, Dhurandhar 2. Imagine a massive warehouse in Hyderabad filled from floor to ceiling with colourful fabrics, each waiting to be transformed into a character’s identity.
In the first thirty days alone, close to a thousand Punjabi (Pathani) outfits were crafted. This wasn’t just a random bulk production; each outfit was designed to reflect the nuanced journey of the characters, from the humble beginnings of Jaskirat to the gritty underworld aura surrounding Hamza.
And then there were the looks for Hamza. More than 250 distinct looks were created for the lead, each with its own story. One day Hamza might be in a sleek black coat that screams authority, the next day he could be in a faded denim jacket that hints at vulnerability. The attention to these transitions helped the audience feel the layers of his personality without a single line of dialogue.
Managing such a massive wardrobe over a 1.5‑year shoot required an almost military level of organization. Thousands of accessories – from tiny rings to elaborate headgear – were catalogued, cleaned, and maintained day after day. Yet Smriti never lost that spark of excitement, showing up each morning as if it were the first day of shooting.
Micro‑Details That Made a Big Difference
What truly set Smriti apart, according to Aditya Dhar, was the obsession with tiny details. While the crew was busy handling massive sets, Smriti was worrying about whether the button on a junior artist’s cuff was placed just right. "Who stitches 10000 costumes for a film and close to 1000 Pathanis in the first 30 days and still worries about the detailing of a button on a junior artist’s cuff? 😂," Aditya Dhar wrote, chuckling at the paradox.
Even the ring on Hamza’s little finger became a subject of sleepless nights for Smitia. "Who creates 250+ looks for Hamza and still loses sleep over whether the ring on his little finger feels emotionally correct?" The filmmaker highlighted that such micro‑obsessions gave the film an authenticity that audiences, especially those from small towns, could sense instinctively.
In most cases, larger productions overlook these nuances because they seem too small to matter. But Smitia believed that a single button or a particular shade of fabric could convey a character’s internal state. This philosophy reminded Aditya Dhar of his own early days, when he would sit in a small room sketching colour palettes and obsess over the mood each hue would create.
These details also fostered a sense of respect among the crew. Junior artists felt seen and valued because Smitia didn’t treat them as background filler – every stitch mattered.
Building a Whole New World on Set
Aditya Dhar described Smitia as "the most helpful, most generous human being on set. Always there. Always giving. Always smiling through the chaos (even when I know some days you wanted to kill most of us 😄)." The phrase "kill most of us" might sound dramatic, but in a film set where time slots are tight and the pressure is high, it’s a tongue‑in‑cheek way of saying how stressful the environment can be.
What Smitia built wasn’t just a wardrobe; it was a visual language. Each costume acted as a punctuation mark in the narrative, a silent exclamation that helped the story breathe. For the audience, the transformation of Hamza from bright colours to deep blacks mirrored his moral descent, a visual cue that needed no explanation.
From a space that once felt unfamiliar – a largely industrial studio floor where most crew members had never set foot before – Smitia crafted something distinct. The design styles have now become so popular that street vendors in Delhi are selling t‑shirts inspired by Hamza’s wardrobe, and fashion bloggers in Bengaluru are posting tutorials on how to recreate the look using affordable fabrics.
That ripple effect is a testament to Smitia’s courage and ZIDD. It’s not just about having a good eye for fashion; it’s about daring to turn an untested concept into a cultural phenomenon.
Personal Reflections from Aditya Dhar
Aditya Dhar concluded his note with a heartfelt gratitude. "I’m just really, really grateful I got to witness that journey up close. And I’m even more grateful that I got you on this film ❤️ Love and Luck, forever! 🙏," he wrote. These words convey more than professional respect – they reveal a friendship formed over countless late nights, endless fabric swatches, and shared laughter over endless cups of filter coffee.
In most Indian film circles, such sincere public shout‑outs are rare. Directors usually keep the limelight on themselves, but Aditya Dhar chose to put Smitia in the spotlight, acknowledging that the visual identity of Dhurandhar would have been impossible without her relentless drive.
It also shows that in the Indian film industry, where hierarchy often dictates credit, a sincere acknowledgment like this can inspire upcoming designers. Young costume enthusiasts watching the post might see a path for themselves, realizing that dedication to detail and unwavering honesty can lead to recognition.
For Aditya Dhar, the experience of working with Smitia reinforced a belief he holds dear: that creativity thrives when people are allowed to be imperfect, to make mistakes, and to keep pushing forward despite obstacles. The whole saga of Dhurandhar’s costumes is a perfect illustration of that principle.
Conclusion: A Legacy Woven in Fabric
Looking back, the journey of creating over ten thousand costumes for Dhurandhar and Dhurandhar 2 is more than a statistic; it’s a story of perseverance, friendship, and the power of a single individual to shape a film’s soul. Smitia’s willingness to dive into the chaos, her obsession with tiny details, and her unstoppable ZIDD turned an ambitious script into a living, breathing world that resonated with audiences across India.
Aditya Dhar’s public appreciation not only celebrates Smitia’s achievements but also sets an example for the industry – that behind every grand cinematic vision, there are humble hands stitching, adjusting, and perfecting each element. The next time you watch Dhurandhar and notice a subtle change in Hamza’s attire, remember the countless nights Smitia spent ensuring that change felt authentic.
In the end, the legacy left behind is a wardrobe that will be talked about for years, inspiring future designers to dream bigger, work harder, and never shy away from those “crazy” ideas that start as a tiny spark over a cup of chai.
