The dark side of Bollywood

Harry Sanna

• Last Updated: November 07. 2009 12:24PM UAE / November 7. 2009 8:24AM GMT

MUMBAI // When Neha Tiwari arrived in Mumbai to pursue her dream of making it big in India’s multibillion dollar film industry, she was 17 and had just one local contact on her phone: a fellow Bihari who had a minor success in singing.

Close to a year later, she has found little of the fame and glamour she sought, instead becoming what is known in the industry as a “compromiser” – a struggling young artist who has abandoned their values in a bid for stardom.

“I was attracted to the industry by the glamour and attraction of Bollywood,” said Ms Tiwari, standing on a street corner in Andheri West, a vast suburb populated with film wannabes. “I want to be a big star.”

Somnath, a small-time film producer in his mid-50s, threw an arm around the young woman’s waist and pulled her close. “She wants to touch the height of the sky,” he said. “Already she is living alone in a very nice flat.”

Hundreds of thousands of people pass through Mumbai every day, some in search of work, others drawn by the intoxicating and flashy allure of Bollywood.

Punjabis, recognised for their build and fairness of skin, aim for the classic hero roles. Northeasterners, with their Asiatic looks, can often find work on exotic location shoots. Rajasthanis, raised in entertainment-based castes, are sought for their gift in music and performance.

“From all over they come to Bombay,” said Rahul Khandare, a producer who lives in Andheri West and who recently found success through his involvement in the Oscar-winning Slumdog Millionaire. “They all see themselves as the next Amitabh Bachchan, Shah-Rukh Khan and Aishwarya Rai.

“What they don’t think about is the incredible difficulty of working here. You need contacts, you need ability and you need perseverance.”

Compounding the difficulties for the hundreds of thousands of start-struck Indians who see Bollywood as their ticket out of poverty and destitution are the city’s infamously high rents and unscrupulous agents.

S S Saluja owns Topson Estate, a property company in Adarsh Nagar, a film-centric community in Andheri West. Close to 80 per cent of his clientele are people in the lower rungs of the moviemaking business.

“If they are a struggler, they don’t have much of a budget. We provide the smallest rooms, which is our service to them. This area almost entirely belongs to the film industry.”

A two-bedroom flat, Mr Saluja said, may house up to 10 people, each of whom pays a minimum of 3,000 rupees (Dh235) per month. He was not too impressed by their antics, however. “Many do not pay rent on time. They enjoy playing music late at night. Their girlfriends come and stay over. These are the kind of problems they are making for us.”

Mr Saluja’s assistant, Raj Sahani, 19, was more sympathetic, not least because he too is an aspiring performer. “It is very difficult to pay this rent because so little money comes in. When you are starting, it is hard to make money, and hard also to get money owed to you from agents.”

Most struggling actors receive a minimum of 500 rupees a day for either a walk on or other bit part, but competition is fierce and even these jobs are becoming harder to come by.

In the neighbouring suburb of Juhu, only three kilometres from Adarsh Nagar, multimillion-dollar bungalows with three-storey fences serve as both an inspiration and a frustrating reminder of how far away the dream still is.

Sleek black Porsches and fire-red Ferraris open up their engines on crowded roads while helicopters ferry superstars overhead.

The frustration, police sources claim, has led to a rise in crime among the lower class.

“When you don’t make it in the real, big world, there are these [crime-related] avenues, these parallel industries, available to them,” said Rakesh Maria, joint commissioner of police for Mumbai. “For girls, many are in escort services or are callgirls, or enter into the pornographic industry.”

Mr Maria also acknowledged the performing world’s infamous “casting couch”, in which aspiring young actresses, like Neha Tiwari, are convinced that the only way to further their career is to accept the advances of a producer or “filmmaker”.

“We don’t deny there could be this ‘casting couch’ happening. There have been umpteen number of cases where girls have made a complaint about this problem and we do take action.”

The Hindustan Times also recently reported cases of theft and other petty crimes carried out by young actors who struggled to support their dreams.

Jitendra Kirkir, who has been chasing success for three decades, knows how easy it is to fall prey to the underside of Bollywood’s glamour.

“If you have patience in the work you do, you can make it in this industry,” he said. “If you become frustrated, you will not go on and will be susceptible to the bad influences.”

The 50-year-old native of Indore, a city in Madhya Pradesh, came out to Mumbai in his twenties to escape his family’s lack of support for his decision to become an actor. For the first six-and-a-half years of his career, he lived in a six-by-six metre dairy shed on the outskirts of Mumbai. To earn his board, he tended the buffaloes and cows in the morning before catching the bus into town to pursue his film and theatre career.

Several years ago, Mr Kirkir made the move into film dubbing and editing, which now brings him a more steady income.

“This is now my family,” he said, pointing behind at his hole-in-the-wall editing studio.

“I realised what a struggle this path was going to be, which is when I made the decision not to have a family of my own.”

Such a decision in marriage-conscious India is not taken lightly but is becoming more common among struggling performers.

Manoj Acharya, 44, is another struggling actor who knows first hand how hard it is to break into the industry. After seven years without a breakthrough, he has recently secured two lead roles in medium-budget Hindi and Marathi-language productions. Each will take roughly six months to shoot and pay 150,000 rupees (Dh11,673) per film.

It has not been easy.

A native of the city with upper-caste roots and a financially secure family, Mr Acharya is active 18 hours a day with 10 rupees’ worth of sustenance.

“A struggler can and must survive on 10 rupees per day,” he said, proudly displaying his backpack stocked with dried fruit, a packet of lollies and a bottle of tap water.

“You are the only person who knows whether your stomach is full or empty. If I’m out of money, if I’m out of food, I never show it on my face to the people who may get me work.”

Despite his modest lifestyle, Mr Acharya dresses in international labels and owns two mobile phones, one of which is constantly ringing. Contacts, he said, are everything in this town, and he makes it a point of being on friendly terms with as many producers and casting agents as possible.

In a day, the youthful looking actor will spend an hour and half in the gym, make and take hundreds of calls to various industry friends, meet producers, argue with agents, pen an occasional script and hold informal auditions.

“For a long time, I’ve been trying to convince people that they want to do something for me,” he said. “Here in Bollywood, my friendships are my only real assets.”

* The National