If you are a fair
skinned westerner passing through Bombay, beguiled
by the "hey, you wanna be in the movies?"
line, and the promise of 500 rupees for a day's
work, you could find your 15 seconds of fame in
the Hindi film industry.
In a society that equates fairness with beauty,
the westerner, especially the blue eyed blonde
haired variety, fulfils a crucial role in providing
instant background glamour to many a film. The
budding film stars are recruited each morning
from the traveller hang outs and hotels of the
tourist friendly Colaba. Many of them are newly
arrived from the International airport, or confused
and dazed from a sleepless night on the bus from
Udaipur. As the pavement agent bundles the tourists
into a taxi, the aspiring actors chatter excitedly
about their big break. Alas, their dreams of the
movie style lifestyle are quickly shattered when
they arrive at Churchgate station, and are promptly
herded onto an 8 rupee rush hour suburban train
bound for one of the film studios in the western
suburbs.
On the journey I marvel at the foreigner's abject
lack of understanding of an industry that produces
over 800 films a year. As a committed Bollywood
fan, and seasoned western extra, I shudder at
the perceptions and misconceptions that I hear
bandied around the carriage, hearing the same
two repeated ideas; "Singing and dancing
in the Swiss mountains" and "No kissing".
"No, no, no. it is not all singing and dancing
in the mountains of Switzerland," I inform.
"Switzerland is so passe as overseas location
of choice. Think New York (Kal Ho Naa Ho (2003)).
Think London (Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham (2001)).
Think Melbourne (Salaam Namaste (2005)).
The movie-goer of today is as likely to be an
NRI as a Bihari", I continue, attempting
to explain the significant impact of the Indian
diaspora on the industry. "And yes, shock
horror, "sometimes they do kiss”, producing
a gasp of shock from the audience.
 Once
the prospective stars have managed to fight their
way off the train (not always a successful pursuit),
they are shepherded to the studio, where the first
stop is wardrobe. It is here that the fame seekers
learn an important lesson in the thespian caste
system. At the top, the Khans, the Bachchans et
al arrive on set immaculately attired and looking
every inch the super star. Coiffed hair and flawless
make up comes with a whole entourage of people
to keep it staying that way. The newcomers however,
are led to a less salubrious, shared dressing
room. No vanity van here. Banish those ideas of
lights around the mirror and star upon the door.
Instead, we are handed frayed-at-the-collar suits
and tentatively-held-together-with-a-safety-pin
evening dresses. It is this chic attire, that
helps create the jet set image of the overseas
bar/casino/nightclub on the Bombay sound stage.
The standard traveller look of dreadlocks, piercings,
and sandals does little to complete the desired
effect. Neither Hair and make up nor footwear
extends this far down the caste system, as travellers
attempt to tie back and tame knotted dreadlocks,
and match their bought on a beach near Bangkok
flip-flops with ill fitting evening wear. Finished
in wardrobe, the actors are now ready to be thrust
into stardom.
On the set of Salaam-e-Ishq, a suited
and sandaled fellow Englishman innocently enquires
what we are supposed to do. "Act, just act",
is the curt reply from a casually attired 30 something
in faded jeans. The taken aback suit and sandal
moans, "Who is that guy and why is he always
shouting? He can't be an actor?" an observation
made no doubt on an appearance that is about as
unkempt as our own. "That guy. That guy"
I say, "is Nikhil Advani, and no he is not
an actor, he is a director. The director in fact
of this film". Scoring with Kal Ho Naa
Ho as his debut, I want to add that he is
a demi-god, albeit (sorry Nikhil-ji) a rather
strict demi-god... who shouts a lot. Later that
day, on the same shoot, the world of the foreign
extra produces further comic tragedy, as an Australian
gap year student playing a waiter, unceremoniously
drops a tray of drinks. It could not have been
timed better, forcing as it does a shout of "Cut!"
from Nikhil, and interrupting Salman Khan and
Priyanka Chopra in their attempt to lip-synch
their way through the Shankar-Eshaan-Loy title
track. Demi-gods and dropped trays aside, this
song is going to be the big hit of next year.
You heard it here first, the infectious Ishq,
Ishq, Ishq, Salaam e Ishq lyrics will be
heard from Kashmir to Kanyakumari, upon the film's
January 2007 release.
Another set, another suit and sandal. This time
an American tourist on a 3 month tour of India.
We are shooting for Abbas-Mustan's 36 China
Town (2006), and from a large group of background
artists, we privileged two have been selected
for an enviable position behind a dancing Kareena
Kapoor. Between takes the tourist points at the
figure in Manish Malhotra black mini skirt with
red sequins, and asks in what some may consider
a rather loud voice, "Say, who is that? Is
she famous at all? "Yes you could say she
is famous," I grimace, casually shuffling
to one side in an attempt to distance myself from
the American, all the while praying that Ms. Kapoor
somehow didn't hear.
Another Kapur. This time Shahid. The name Shahid
Kapur may not be an internationally recognised
star as yet, but in the united nations of extras,
it is agreed that behind his ever present sunglasses,
he has the movie star good looks to become one.
It is these boyish good looks that will appear
on countless tourists’ holiday snaps.
Johnny Lever is a movie star who may not have
the conventional good looks of Shahid, but that
doesn't matter when you are one of India's top
comic actors. Alas, Johnny Lever's standing was
unknown to a thirsty Swedish girl in an undersized,
and in the studio lights, almost transparent dress.
It was only through swift intervention of a crew
member, that she was prevented from ordering garam
chai from this veteran of over a hundred
films under the assumption that he was a spot
boy.
Dear viewer, the next time you sit down to watch
a Bollywood movie, look beyond the big name stars,
disregard the current hero and heroine, and pay
attention to the fair and lovely foreigner in
the background. Applaud their acting. Idolize
their outfits. Be dazzled by their dreadlocks.
Salaam their sandals. Their 15 seconds starts
now!
Steven Baker is a UK writer who divides
his time between London, Delhi, and Mumbai. After
graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in English,
Steven completed a post graduate degree at the
Institute of Education, University of London.
A writing workshop with the Lonely Planet group
led to a trip to India and the contribution of
his Rent-A-Tourist section to the Lonely Planet
Guide to Experimental Travel. Steven is best
known for his writing on the Hindi Film Industry,
his work regularly appears in a range of Indian,
NRI, and international publications. Steven Baker
is presently the Co-ordinater of the British Council's
Creative Writing course in New Delhi. He has also
appeared in 15 Bollywood films. |
