Shilpa Shetty watches mom Sunanda take a photographer to task during a promotional visit to Calcutta last August

On the sets of Sujoy Ghosh’s second movie Home Delivery. Vaishali Shopping Centre in Juhu. A small little sequence between Viveik Oberoi and Ayesha Takia.

When The Telegraph requested for an interview of the leading lady, Ayesha looked to Sujoy, Sujoy looked to Ayesha’s right.

There sat Ayesha’s mom Farida, a disconcerting smile glued to her face. “It’s the largest selling newspaper in Calcutta, Ayesha’s interview there will do her a lot of good,” explained Sujoy.

With that smile, Farida asked us to meet her — the mom, not the daughter — after the shoot. Two hours later, in Ayesha’s vanity van, mommy dearest would vet or veto every question before it reached the hapless heroine.

Bollywood moms are a bizarre lot.

Rani Mukerji with mother Krishna.

The history of Indian cinema would tell you that mothers would always take an active interest in their daughters’ movie careers. While security reasons in the big bad world of Bollywood would be one reason, settling financial matters for “baby” and supervising her make-up and costumes would be others. In short, she would be her bodyguard, secretary and dress department all rolled into one. Remember the veteran Shammiji as Shefali Shah’s (then Shetty) mom in Rangeela?

And then, of course, there is the matter of fierce control over their daughters’ love lives. Jaya Chakravarthy did it to Hema Malini and now Hema Malini is doing it to Esha Deol, chuckle industry watchers.

Those rare moms who have had very little say in their daughters’ careers — or suitors — choose to stay away from the arclights. Vrinda Rai has seldom stepped on to the sets of Aishwarya’s movies even though she was the writer of their home production Dil Ka Rishta.

Tanuja has never interfered in her daughters’ careers. Kajol was always doing and not doing and then again doing movies at her own sweet will.

Aishwarya Rai with mom Vrinda

Yes, not everybody is Sunanda Shetty, who is the ultimate Celebrity Big Brother (Momma)! Slapping photographers at media conferences, taking the couch of Koffee With Karan, changing Shilpa’s publicists with a snap of her fingers... she calls the shots. Period. As Max Clifford told The Telegraph: “It’s a great pity. We have built up a lot of international careers. But I could not do it with her (Shilpa). Her mum controls her 100 per cent. It was difficult to get a response.”

Having been the driving force behind her daughter getting into movies, Rani’s mother Krishna Mukerji is above all else the actress’s spokesperson. With Rani choosing to be incommunicado, Krishna feeds the media with all kinds of quotes on behalf of her beti — only for beti to deny some of them later. Rani, of course, can see no wrong in that. “Whatever I am today is because of my mother and she is everything to me,” Bollywood’s Bengali queen bee told t2 recently.

Mummy mania is also the reason behind Babita’s complete control over Kareena’s career. Just like she had decided on every bit of Karisma’s filmography — and allegedly her break-up with Abhishek Bachchan. From dropping Kaho Naa... Pyaar Hai to signing Refugee, Kareena has done Babita’s bidding.

“Indian heroines are really young and perhaps having mom safeguarding you in the initial years can be a necessity, but it’s a pain for everybody else,” says trade analyst Indu Mirani. “They slowly but surely completely take over a production. I remember how Meenakshi Sheshadri’s mother would suggest storylines and even endings of movies.”

Things have changed to some extent. “Moms on the sets are no longer welcome,” says My Brother... Nikhil director Onir. “I do not have to interact with mothers when I want to cast a heroine. Come on, the young bunch of directors wouldn’t eat up the young touch-me-not heroines. Today, in a day and age of movie corporatisation, mothers are better suited at home!”

Where does natural maternal concern end and career control begin? The thin line is often easily overlooked. Perhaps it’s all good up to a certain point. Then any mom-and-daughter relationship can become Patel Rap — Ameesha and her mother Asha, once best of friends, suddenly became sworn enemies and played out a public spat over the moolah the golden goose brought home.

Till the young lady learns to fight her own battles, mommy hand-holding the heroine may be acceptable, but not beyond. That’s a lesson even feisty Farida had learnt by the time Ayesha had moved from Home Delivery to Dor. Months after the vanity van encounter, a visit to Calcutta found big momma taking a backseat and deciding the lunch menu (“shorshe ilish or daab chingri”) instead of Ayesha’s answers.

There is hope for our heroines, yet.

Pratim D. Gupta

(Who is your worst screen mom? Tell t2@abpmail.com)