In its first edition, Surabhi Diaries by Suhail Tatari revisits the beloved 1990s TV phenomenon Surabhi, capturing how the show shaped a generation of filmmakers and redefined Indian cultural storytelling through authenticity and discovery.

Surabhi Diaries by Suhail Tatari celebrates the legacy of the iconic Doordarshan show Surabhi, which began in 1990 and transformed Indian television. Through nostalgic recollections and behind-the-scenes stories, Tatari traces how Surabhi nurtured creativity, celebrated India’s cultural roots, and shaped his own filmmaking journey. The first edition of Surabhi Diaries reminds readers of a golden era when storytelling was authentic, inclusive, and deeply human—an era that continues to inspire India’s creative community today.

In a career spanning over three decades, when you look back, there are a few projects that bring a smile to your face, a few that you are disappointed by, and some that fill your heart with sheer joy. They are the ones that one can count on fingers… perhaps one or at best two!

A TV show that began in the year 1990, by the name of Surabhi on Doordarshan, the national and the only broadcaster then in the country, caught my immediate attention. I was visiting my parents in Delhi and happened to catch it on TV at perhaps 9 pm on a Sunday night. Two things caught my immediate attention; the subjects themselves were fascinating: arts and crafts, music, personalities, history—all woven into the broader fabric of Indian culture. But what really caught me was the format: short, crisp, five-minute stories, something I had only seen earlier in The World This Week, Prannoy Roy’s charming and polished news magazine. More importantly, the style of presentation was refreshingly lucid. Until then, anything “documentary-like” meant the Films Division’s stiff, didactic reels that played before films in theatres.

Surabhi, by contrast, was conversational, informative without being heavy, and thoroughly entertaining. Even the commentary was easy on the ears, the presenters warm and approachable.

Joining the Surabhi Family

When I reached Mumbai, Bombay then, I gathered the courage to make a call to the producer, Siddharth Kak, directly and expressed my inclination to be part of it. Siddharth was friendly and welcoming and asked me if I had done anything that he could watch. Although my work till then was primarily in the advertising field, I had just finished directing a series on Bundelkhand along with my uncle for Doordarshan. I promised to bring a VHS tape of it to his office the next day.
Two days later, I called up Siddharth again to know if he had watched my series and if he thought I was good enough to be part of his series. To my relief, he said extremely enthusiastically that he had watched it and liked it. “I would be happy to have you onboard,” said Siddharth.

I was ecstatic and over the moon. Much later, he told me that he had watched barely the first five minutes of the series and stopped. It remains a mystery to this day whether he hated it or liked it immensely. Anyway, I was going to be inducted into the team of directors, which had some veterans like Manjul Sinha, Arnab Bhattacharya, and the upcoming bright director Pushkar Singh. There were a few others…

After a few days, I got a call to come to the office for a brief from the Research Team Head, Sunil Shanbag, for my first story that I was to direct. My excitement knew no bounds.

Sunil was a serious-looking but extremely affable man. In my first interaction, I realised he was immensely knowledgeable and could speak on any given subject with great authority. My conclusion soon was that he was actually the brain behind the show! I was given the brief for a story on a photographer from Chennai, Madras then, whose exhibition of black and white pictures of traditional homes was being held at the prestigious Jehangir Art Gallery.

The story was a simple one: shooting an interview of the photographer, wherein one tried to explore the fascination of the man for black and white in a world that was attracted to colour, and his exhibits on the walls. Interacting with Javed Sayyed, the editor, who had worked with the Mirza brothers (Saeed and Aziz) and Manjul Sinha for films and shows like Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi and Nukkad, was exhilarating.

There is no substitute for experience in any field, is the lesson I learnt while editing the story. Javed was exacting, never hesitant to dismiss a weak shot or thin narrative. The piece itself didn’t challenge me creatively, but seeing my name announced on air and printed in the credits gave me my first real thrill.

Capturing the Spirit of Malkhamb

Next week I got another call to shoot a new story. It was on Malkhamb—a traditional sport form of Maharashtra that’s performed on a nearly nine-foot wooden pole. It’s more of a gymnastic form, which is entirely Indian in nature. If Kalaripayattu is a martial art form from Kerala, Malkhamb is the gymnastic form from Maharashtra. The story was to be shot in Shivaji Park, Dadar, the famed ground on which Indian cricket maestro Sachin Tendulkar practised and grew up.

I visited the institute which ran in one corner by a trainer who had been running the place for several years. I requested a demo to understand the way it was conducted since I had no knowledge of it. There were students, rather disciples, both girls and boys, from the age of seven to nearly seventeen who had been practising it for years. The first thing that caught my attention was the attire the boys wore. It was the traditional langot around their waist. The girls wore a more covered costume.

The way the first disciple moved from the bottom to the top in quick time and twirled around was nothing short of exhilarating. It was literally a dance on a pole and an exercise happening together. As he moved around, I realised it was an exhibition of balance training, strength, flexibility, agility, speed, coordination, and endurance.

To me, it was a combination of horseshoe, roman rings, and pommel bars all rolled into one, as we see it in gymnastics. The speed at which they moved or rather glided up and down was absolutely stunning. To my surprise, another one joined him and then there were two of them performing in absolute coordination. Although there were barely a handful of girls, they were proficient in it as well as the boys. My visit to the institute was worth it, and I was gearing up for the filming with great anticipation and excitement.

A Journey of Creative Discovery

The performance looked even better on camera. However, one aspect that caught my attention while being at Shivaji Park was the pulsating and lively nature of the place, with several cricketing nets and clubs operating at all times in the morning and afternoon sessions. The place was abuzz with sportspersons coming, practising, and leaving in an almost automated way. Mothers, family members, companions of the young kids carrying their cricket kits was another unique feature. Several hawkers were around selling delicacies of all kinds—from bhel to idli sambhar to vada pav—throughout the day. It was a pulsating microcosm of Mumbai’s sporting life.

The next was the chapter of the editing. I somehow wanted to retain the spirit of Shivaji Park as an exciting sports place, often called the “Mecca of cricket in Mumbai.”

I began with cricket and then brought in my subject of Malkhamb. I treated it like a sports film that was cut fast and had snazzy music. Being from an advertising background, music was intrinsic to my edits. For the first time, I made Javed Sayyed lay the music track before editing the visuals. He, though not used to it, relented to a 26-year-old and perhaps enjoyed the process of editing to the beat. Anyway, the story turned out to be different and entertaining, with history thrown in about the sport. Overall, it was far more gratifying for me than the first story. It was appreciated by Siddharth and Sunil, which was the validation I was looking for.

Very quickly, I realised Surabhi was a platform that allowed you to express yourself in the way best suited to you as a director. There was no fixed grammar that had to be followed, and one was allowed to find one’s rhythm.

This was the beginning of an important journey for me personally—of knowing one’s country, its culture, its people; which was what the aim of the show was for its audience. I was taking baby steps in that direction!

I never realised that Surabhi was about to shape me for what I was to become in my later years as a creative person. I wanted to be grounded and profoundly connected with real people, and importantly, the concerns that were real!
Surabhi, meaning fragrance in Hindi, was engulfing me slowly…and completely!!