Day 142 cntd
As I left Jaipur, the monsoon let rip and even the 1st class waiting lounge at the train station was not impervious to a bit of light flooding. The up-side though was that as I climbed on top of various chairs to avoid the river running through the room I got the chance to bond with various members of India's elite who were doing likewise (including a professor and an army general).
My 17 hour train ride was surprisingly comfortable and, while the time didn't exactly fly by, I had a good time. Incidentally I've been meaning to mention more about the transvestite thief that I encountered on a previous train ride. Speaking to other travellers, it turns out that the transvestites are an Indian train institution. A common trick is for a transvestite to walk onto a train carriage, sit down and lift up his skirt, exposing himself to everyone until someone gives him some money. If nobody pays, the transvestite will rip out a knife and attack the nearest passenger. Weird!
Day 143
It was mid-afternoon by the time I got off my train in northern Mumbai (aka Bombay). The train station appeared to be in the middle of a slum (not difficult in a city where 60% of the population live in the slums) and the smell was pretty overpowering. It took two hours and several changes of taxi in the suffocating heat for me eventually to reach Colaba, the area of southern Mumbai where I would be staying. I can honestly say that the hostel which greeted me was the worst place I have ever had the misfortune to stay (and believe me I have stayed in some grotty places over the last few months - though those were at least saved by having a modicum of charm). The entire building had the air of a Soviet prison, while my dorm looked like a war-zone with rubbish, mould and rats (yes, rats!!) everywhere. The toilets were overflowing with sewage and, in answer to my question whether my filthy mattress would perhaps be graced by sheets or even a pillow, I was met with hysterical laughter from the outrageously rude management. I had come a long way from Bali!
The dorm room contained the usual assortment of elderly souls that for some reason one finds backpacking around India (including one 77 year old Bulgarian and a 70 year old Japanese man), but thankfully I met a pair of Colombians my age who I joined for the evening. After a dinner of South Indian dosas (a fermented crepe made from rice batter and black lentils stuffed with a spicy mashed potato), we headed out to Leopold's bar. Leopold's is a true Mumbai travelers' institution, having hosted we weary explorers since 1871. Leopold's was also the location for one of the 2008 terror attacks and, just as then it reopened a mere four days later to massive crowds, so too tonight it was heaving even though the city was on lock-down after the latest bombings of only two days before. The three of us joined up with an English man staying in our dorm for a couple of beers.
That evening in the dorm we all chatted until the early hours with the main theme of conversation being how challenging everyone found backpacking round India. The general consensus was that you cannot relax for a minute out here, but instead must constantly fight the thousands of con-men, rickshaw-wallahs, transvestites and beggars just to cross the street, all the while trying to steer the difficult course between gastroenteritis and starvation.
Day 144
The previous night's conversation on my mind I woke up early this morning and emailed British Airways asking to move my flight so that I could return the following day.
Thankfully though things swiftly changed! Realising that I couldn't end my trip in such a cowardly fashion I decided to fight back, beginning with a change of hostel. Deciding it would be better to pay triple the amount if it guaranteed me a night without rats, I switched to a hotel down the road which boasted air conditioning, clean bathrooms, free toilet paper and a flatscreen TV! I then went to one of Mumbai's best restaurants, the Indigo Delicatessen, for a cheer-up lunch. Whether it was the 'multigrain fettuccini of grilled artichoke and mushroom with walnut cream' or the bread platter or the seven-odd milkshakes I downed there that afternoon, I do not know. However, by the time I left the restaurant I felt a new man. So what if travelling in India is difficult? That is part of the challenge and god knows there are enough amazing sights and people in between all the hassle to make it all worth the trouble. I went back to the internet café and cancelled my change-of-flight request. I was going to stick out India until the end.
Now, earlier when I had had the intention of leaving India the following day, I had been stopped by a Bollywood movie scout who asked me if I would be interested in being an extra. I declined, but took his card nonetheless. After my rejuvenating meal however I remembered this offer and I swiftly called him back to accept.
That evening I went out for dinner with a group of English guys I met at my new hotel.
Day 145
Very early in the morning I heading downstairs to meet the casting agent. In the lobby of the hotel were assembled about twenty other backpackers and all of us were excited about the possibilities that the day might hold. A bus was waiting down the street to whisk us off to the studio where we were treated to a buffet of traditional Indian breakfasts.
We were then herded into the costume department where an amusingly rude woman decided whether the clothes we were wearing were at all suitable. She took one look at me and changed everything. Apparently I didn't look 'touristy' enough and so my stylish green T-shirt was swapped for a horror which read "The Vacation Never Ends", while in the 35 degree heat she forced me to wear a (rather nice) blazer from Gap. I got off lightly though, the majority of our group were made to dress in thick jumpers!
Returning to the green room we sat down and waited. At this point we still had no idea what the film was about and what role we would have in it. The casting director of the film then walked in and selected six of us to follow him. I was one of the six. Little did we know at this point that we six were to be the only ones involved in the filming, while the others would sit in that room for the next 15 hours with nothing to do.
We rounded the corner and entered a large hanger with half an airplane inside. From this point on all photography was strictly prohibited, so any photos I did manage to take were very covert and naughty. Passing a sign, I saw that the movie was called 'English Vinglish', but I knew little else.
We enter the airplane (a mock Boeing 747) and are seated. I am placed on the window seat with one spare seat next to me and two spare seats behind me. A few minutes later the Indian extras chatter with hushed excitement as a woman enters the plane surrounded by a team of hangers-on. It turns out this woman is called Sridevi and was one of India's most famous Bollywood actresses in the 1980s and 1990s. She left the industry in 1997 to raise her children, but this film represented her comeback. From across the plane she looked at least twenty years' younger than her 48 years, but as she moved closer I saw the evidence of botox and perhaps even plastic surgery. To my utter surprise she then proceeds to sit directly behind me. She is so close I can smell her perfume!
(Sridevi on the right)
(The Gateway to India - built by the British to symbolise an entrance and exit to the subcontinent. Very apt considering I was leaving tomorrow)
(one of the omnipresent slums)
As I left Jaipur, the monsoon let rip and even the 1st class waiting lounge at the train station was not impervious to a bit of light flooding. The up-side though was that as I climbed on top of various chairs to avoid the river running through the room I got the chance to bond with various members of India's elite who were doing likewise (including a professor and an army general).
My 17 hour train ride was surprisingly comfortable and, while the time didn't exactly fly by, I had a good time. Incidentally I've been meaning to mention more about the transvestite thief that I encountered on a previous train ride. Speaking to other travellers, it turns out that the transvestites are an Indian train institution. A common trick is for a transvestite to walk onto a train carriage, sit down and lift up his skirt, exposing himself to everyone until someone gives him some money. If nobody pays, the transvestite will rip out a knife and attack the nearest passenger. Weird!
Day 143
It was mid-afternoon by the time I got off my train in northern Mumbai (aka Bombay). The train station appeared to be in the middle of a slum (not difficult in a city where 60% of the population live in the slums) and the smell was pretty overpowering. It took two hours and several changes of taxi in the suffocating heat for me eventually to reach Colaba, the area of southern Mumbai where I would be staying. I can honestly say that the hostel which greeted me was the worst place I have ever had the misfortune to stay (and believe me I have stayed in some grotty places over the last few months - though those were at least saved by having a modicum of charm). The entire building had the air of a Soviet prison, while my dorm looked like a war-zone with rubbish, mould and rats (yes, rats!!) everywhere. The toilets were overflowing with sewage and, in answer to my question whether my filthy mattress would perhaps be graced by sheets or even a pillow, I was met with hysterical laughter from the outrageously rude management. I had come a long way from Bali!
The dorm room contained the usual assortment of elderly souls that for some reason one finds backpacking around India (including one 77 year old Bulgarian and a 70 year old Japanese man), but thankfully I met a pair of Colombians my age who I joined for the evening. After a dinner of South Indian dosas (a fermented crepe made from rice batter and black lentils stuffed with a spicy mashed potato), we headed out to Leopold's bar. Leopold's is a true Mumbai travelers' institution, having hosted we weary explorers since 1871. Leopold's was also the location for one of the 2008 terror attacks and, just as then it reopened a mere four days later to massive crowds, so too tonight it was heaving even though the city was on lock-down after the latest bombings of only two days before. The three of us joined up with an English man staying in our dorm for a couple of beers.
That evening in the dorm we all chatted until the early hours with the main theme of conversation being how challenging everyone found backpacking round India. The general consensus was that you cannot relax for a minute out here, but instead must constantly fight the thousands of con-men, rickshaw-wallahs, transvestites and beggars just to cross the street, all the while trying to steer the difficult course between gastroenteritis and starvation.
Day 144
The previous night's conversation on my mind I woke up early this morning and emailed British Airways asking to move my flight so that I could return the following day.
Thankfully though things swiftly changed! Realising that I couldn't end my trip in such a cowardly fashion I decided to fight back, beginning with a change of hostel. Deciding it would be better to pay triple the amount if it guaranteed me a night without rats, I switched to a hotel down the road which boasted air conditioning, clean bathrooms, free toilet paper and a flatscreen TV! I then went to one of Mumbai's best restaurants, the Indigo Delicatessen, for a cheer-up lunch. Whether it was the 'multigrain fettuccini of grilled artichoke and mushroom with walnut cream' or the bread platter or the seven-odd milkshakes I downed there that afternoon, I do not know. However, by the time I left the restaurant I felt a new man. So what if travelling in India is difficult? That is part of the challenge and god knows there are enough amazing sights and people in between all the hassle to make it all worth the trouble. I went back to the internet café and cancelled my change-of-flight request. I was going to stick out India until the end.
Now, earlier when I had had the intention of leaving India the following day, I had been stopped by a Bollywood movie scout who asked me if I would be interested in being an extra. I declined, but took his card nonetheless. After my rejuvenating meal however I remembered this offer and I swiftly called him back to accept.
That evening I went out for dinner with a group of English guys I met at my new hotel.
Day 145
Very early in the morning I heading downstairs to meet the casting agent. In the lobby of the hotel were assembled about twenty other backpackers and all of us were excited about the possibilities that the day might hold. A bus was waiting down the street to whisk us off to the studio where we were treated to a buffet of traditional Indian breakfasts.
We were then herded into the costume department where an amusingly rude woman decided whether the clothes we were wearing were at all suitable. She took one look at me and changed everything. Apparently I didn't look 'touristy' enough and so my stylish green T-shirt was swapped for a horror which read "The Vacation Never Ends", while in the 35 degree heat she forced me to wear a (rather nice) blazer from Gap. I got off lightly though, the majority of our group were made to dress in thick jumpers!
Returning to the green room we sat down and waited. At this point we still had no idea what the film was about and what role we would have in it. The casting director of the film then walked in and selected six of us to follow him. I was one of the six. Little did we know at this point that we six were to be the only ones involved in the filming, while the others would sit in that room for the next 15 hours with nothing to do.
We rounded the corner and entered a large hanger with half an airplane inside. From this point on all photography was strictly prohibited, so any photos I did manage to take were very covert and naughty. Passing a sign, I saw that the movie was called 'English Vinglish', but I knew little else.
(me in my tourist outfit)
(Sridevi on the right)
(one I stole from the internet)
If there had been hushed excitement when Sridevi entered, well there was utter rapture when next the absolutely giant, larger-than-life figure of Amitabh Bachchan enters. Now, I've never seen a Bollywood film, but even I know this man. His face shines from every billboard in the country. Barely a minute of Indian television goes by without a reference to him. He is so omnipresent that he was the very first (i.e. simplest) question on Slumdog Millionaire. He is quite simply India's most famous man. Having starred in at least four blockbusters every year since 1969, this man is Bollywood. And guess what? He sits next to Sridevi, directly behind me!
(stolen from the internet)
A man called Dilesh then sits down next to me, holding a script. I ask him if he is an actor. He laughs and says he is actually a banker, but is best friends with the director who agreed to let him have a cameo. For fear of breaking a confidentiality agreement I am wary of revealing too much of the plot, but in a nutshell Amitabh's character is being very loud and it was the job of Dilesh to turn round and tell him to shut the hell up. This is significant as most of the scene therefore involved the cameras being trained on Dilesh and me as we react to Amitabh's shouting. Not only that, but when the cameras were not trained directly onto our faces, they still used the tops of our heads as a frame for the characters behind us. The other five Western extras in the plane were incredibly jealous of my 'fame', but that was nothing compared to the ire of the remaining extras who were still locked into the green room with nothing to do.
Anyway, I stayed in that plane filming from 9am all the way through to 12.30 at night. After so long, the various sights and sounds of the studio will remain ingrained on my memory forever. The language used on set was English and the focus of attention was on the cameraman, director and production manager who each controlled a team of about thirty people that were fussing around the set. Most of the day was spent setting up the lighting for each shot, which could take up to 45 minutes each time. Each take would begin with a chain of repeated sounds along the lines of: "Silence please (echoed by a line of people all the way through the studio to the carpark) ... air con off (yes annoyingly we couldn't have air con on during filming due to the noise it made) ... film rolling ... clap on ... first stations ... scene XXX , take XXX ... action!". In between each shot, the stars would have a team of make-up artists reapply various powders to their skin and stare at themselves for inordinate amounts of time into mirrors that lackies held in front of their faces. Amitabh felt he had to made various quips and jokes throughout the day to keep everyone entertained and he often reduced us to hysterics. However, he also had a dark side, and several times got terrifyingly angry and screamed his head off. I guess such large characters must also have large egos. Having said that, my overwhelming impression of him remains that he was utterly charming.
Every now and again the stars would return to their luxury winnebagos and then we extras would go to grab some of the food and drink that was continually on offer all day. This was one of the best fed days of my entire trip.
Finally at about 11.30pm they let nearly everyone go. However, the casting director grabbed me and told me to stay for one more scene. They changed my clothes (to an utterly boiling jumper) and sat me in a different seat. This scene involved the air stewardesses handing out newspapers to the passengers. On set there were four air stewardesses, all of whom were six foot tall Western models fresh from Mumbai's fashion week. I got on like a house on fire with one from South Africa and had some good conversations with one from the Ukraine, however the other two (of indeterminate Eastern European origin) were utterly frustrating. I mention this as it was these final two that were handing out the newspapers in this final scene. As it was so late at night, everyone was desperate to go home and so wanted a quick scene. These two girls however did everything wrong - constantly fluffing their lines and forgetting their actions! We even spent 30 minutes explaining the difference between saying "would you like a newspaper, maam" and "would you like a newspaper, man". I was anxious because I was the only one of the Western extras left on set and I feared the bus would leave without me, stranding me late at night in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully around 1am the scene finished!
Even though I had my camera in my pocket, I feared that they would confiscate it and delete the pictures I had taken earlier on and so I confined myself merely to asking for signatures from the two stars. All I had to hand was my copy of Anna Karenina, which is perhaps the most incongruous place to now hold two Bollywood film actors' names:
Thankfully the bus had waited for me and we all drove home. We were paid 500 rupees for our day's work, which translates to £7 for the day (or 41p per hour). This may perhaps have been the least well-paid job of my life, but my goodness was it fun.
Day 146
Fired up by Bollywood enthusiasm I spent today at a local cinema watching my first Bollywood films. You really do not need to speak Hindi to understand what is going on and I really enjoyed the two I saw: "Delhi Belly" and "Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara". The first was an Indian version of "The Hangover" and was gripping, while the second was about a bunch of Indian guys travelling around Spain and was fascinating if only for the opportunity to see a Bollywood representation of Europe. Obviously I spent most of the time concentrating on the extras in the background.
In between films I ate some really good food (for my last day I was treating myself), including a chicken liver pate made from brandy and prunes and a posh 'Mumbai street-inspired sandwich', consisting of mint and coriander chutney, cucumber, cheese, tomato salsa and garlic potatoes.
I then went for a touristy walk around town:
(The Taj Palace Hotel - one of India's best hotels and the site of another of the 2008 bombings)
(The Gateway to India - built by the British to symbolise an entrance and exit to the subcontinent. Very apt considering I was leaving tomorrow)
(one of the omnipresent slums)
That evening I was rather pensive and spent a long time reviewing the last five months. Still high on my Bollywood experience of the previous day, this was a much better end to my trip than the cut-short-and-run that I had contemplated earlier in the week.
Day 147
Today my trip came to an end. I jettisoned half my bag that I no longer needed, donating most of it to the local beggars. My last taxi later and I was in the airport, flying back to London Heathrow with British Airways. My first view of our fair country in over five months was the O2 centre and Canary Wharf.
The final photo of my trip; the backpacker at his home station.
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