So I’m quite aware that I can’t really go with a regular ‘day in my life’ piece, simply because my days aren’t as eventful or exciting as those of a bat-head-biting rock star or of a puff-puff-peace hippie. And I don’t see the point of chronicling my work-meeting-space out-chai-meeting-space out-chai-work routine, as it’s all too familiar. Instead, I will share my two bits worth of insanity with some behind the scenes experiences of some of my TV ad shoots.

Over the years, many of the commercials I have worked on could have done with a ‘no agency personnel were harmed during the making of this film’ disclaimer. Okay, so we weren’t exactly bruised and battered, but…

I’m going to break this down as a three-day shoot plan, spanning three countries – with each day covering a different time of the day sequentially.

Day One – Rise and shine in Bangkok

It’s 6:00 a.m. and we make it to our first location sleepless. What I anticipated to be four hours of uninterrupted shut-eye was a brutal van ride instead. Twenty minutes into the journey, I realise our driver is definitely on something. Between blaring 80s English pop music, flashing psychedelic disco lighting, refusing to hit the brakes and indulging in an unquenchable need for speed – reaching in one piece feels like luxury in itself.

We arrive and we tumble out of the van, making our way to the edge of the lake. The tranquility of the early morning spreads like pin drop silence. It’s time for the first shoot.

A couple of takes later, I’m completely immersed in what I’m doing, when a whopping ‘tunnnnnnng’ pierces the surroundings. Heads turn to locate the source of this colossal sound and everyone is looking at me. I have rammed, head-on, into the metal weights of the giant jib.

A few hours and a location change later and I am trying to ignore my throbbing head; I feel I should make the most of the rest of the morning. While the crew sets up for another shoot, I venture to one of the forest waterfalls along with my hyperactive account director, M, and our drama queen client-friend, MZ.

I’m not sure what it is about the waterfall but I feel an overwhelming desire to become one with nature. I try to convince MZ to jump in. After quite a bit of back and forth, he agrees.

He squeals as he makes his way through ankle-deep water and when he finally perches on top of a rock at the edge of the water, he yelps at any creature within a foot’s distance and berates me for convincing him to be ‘wild’. “The fish are eating me alive!” he screams.

I drown out his theatrics and plunge into the water. As I float, I feel the lush, green forest engulf me. The stress of the shoot disappears as does the throbbing in my head. The fish are in harmony with me, as they swim around. I suddenly realise what a glorious experience this is.

Day Two – Afternoon misadventures in Beijing

After a freezing Beijing spring morning, we are back at the hotel for some afternoon recuperation. It’s been a stressful past three days, with Murphy’s Law playing out like back-to-back songs on the radio.

Five of us are locked out of our rooms and the front desk is refusing to open them until the mix up is sorted. This is the least of our concerns. We are huddled outside the room of our model, our ears pressed against his door.

“Is he still breathing?”

“Wait… I hear water running!”

“It means he’s alive. But what if he’s drowning himself?”

“Will we go to jail if he does something stupid?”

The possibilities are endless and endlessly disturbing. None of us (client or agency) have any experience dealing with a troubled model in a foreign country. In fact, we don’t even know what’s wrong with him. He was fine at lunch, until he started telling us bizarre stories about self-harming, followed by a silent rage, succeeded by his locking himself in this hotel room. Ever since, we have tried to make contact, but he doesn’t respond to our calls, the doorbell, or the notes we slip under his door. With two days worth of his footage, we have no choice but to hang on to him. We sit in the hallway making back-up plans for all possible scenarios.

Five hours of praiseworthy persistence later, he opens the door and is completely back to normal. No explanation is offered and he is unperturbed by all that has transpired.

Day Three – Nightmare in Jaipur

After six days of non-stop drama and shuffling between Jaipur and Delhi thanas, we finish our last meal in Jaipur. We leave the cozy Italian restaurant and our friend insists we take a rickshaw back to the hotel. “They are spacious unlike the ones in Pakistan,” he chirps. Three of us hop into one.

Going along, we realise ours is the only vehicle in sight, but we settle into the cushy seats and let the night breeze drift in. Unfortunately, the breeze isn’t the only thing that drifts in. The abrupt honking of a car startles us. We look out and an intoxicated man in a white government car is honking and ordering our rickshaw to stop. Our driver, however, has an agenda of his own and ignores the man. This angers the man and he starts driving in our direction.

We ask our driver to stop; he speeds on and then finally stops. The other man gets out of his car, grabs our driver by the collar and follows up with an incomprehensible slew of profanities. Enraged, our driver floors the pedal. Again we speed down the road... only this time we have a man dangling from our rickshaw. As we pick up speed, he leaps inside, sits on the steering wheel and starts repeatedly slapping our driver. To no effect.

Fearing that the rickshaw will topple, we jump for our lives and manage it unscathed. We walk, completely baffled, until the bobbing rickshaw catches up with us. Apparently the love-spat is resolved. The driver of the white car has realised he has the wrong guy. With this settled, everyone gets back into their respective vehicles and goes home – scarred for life.

The final cut: I guess the chaos that goes into making TV commercials isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I would describe the process as borderline insanity, especially when I think of the first hand experiences I have just shared. But all said and done I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Zareen Rathor is Creative Director, Adétude. zareenrathor@gmail.com