A Bollywood extra

Tommy had left, and I prepared myself for a night on my own in big Mumbai. I hoped to meet some kind faces while eating at Leopld's with no luck. I was placed with a couple on their late fortie's that did not mind my presence in the table, but neither them or myself seemed to look forward to talk with each other.

I tried the bar upstairs that had some music going on. I was alone enough to try to approach some hot Indian girls that were looking in my direction, but I had run out of rolling paper for my cigarettes and, what is most important, money. I had only 20 Rs. left. No point in being brave.

So on my way out I run up into Sagim, one of the Zipi-Zape Israelis I had met on the bus to Diu. He invited me to join them at the Sports Bar. So I went to my place in search of more money and some rolling paper. I was on again for a Mumbai night, which really sucks if you're not nicely dressed and have a girl. It doesn't have to be a girlfriend, but it's your contribution for the Bombayite girl-hunters. If you don't give, you can't get anything.

On my way from my guest house to the bar I ran up with Madu. He is a thin tall struggler in the film industry. He is a recruiter of foreign travellers for Bollywood movies, TV-serials or soap operas. I would have to deal with him the rest of my stay in Mumbai, and he would turn up to be a real pain in the ass.

I should have said no, but I was bored, and decided otherwise. So he recruited me for being an extra in a medium budget film. I had heard mixed opinions about being an extra in Bollywood, so I wasn't sure what would turn out.

8 a.m. in front of Mc Donalds, I was late. I saw a group of foreigners at the other side of the street and had second thoughts. The I realize that if I don't go, Madu is going to be a real haemorrhoid. I didn't know he was going to be one anyway.

All the tourists get into a taxi. The recruiters or organizers get me one for myself. We stop in front of the Churchgate train station I think. After some minutes of waiting a small well built guy comes to me and directs me to another guy inside the station. He scans the foreigners and picks up a Korean girl to go with me. We didn't know what was going on, until we are suddenly seated in a third class suburban train for 8 Rs. Can't say it was horrible, but curious to see. People really packed in the compartments, not leaving their selected place to stand. the same way you could be driven out of the train from the multitude, you could as well be driven back in from the entering crowd, thus missing your stop. People jumped of the train when it was still going. Windows had bars so that people would not try to get in through them. I had seen scenes like this in Hampi. People getting in the bus through the windows. Crazy, really crazy.

After a rickshaw ride we get into the Film City. Nothing seemed very professional. Not even the security. We went in without questions being asked or explanations being given. The guard not even lifted his eyebrows.

Jonas, the other male foreigner, a tall big Swedish, was given a suit that was too small for him, while I was given a jacket that was too big for me. Though it was obvious from a distance, this was the choice of the costume assistant or whatever he was. I had to stick with the suit, composed of a black jacket, a pink shirt and a tie that did not match quiet well with the shirt, but it was of a similar color. I could wear my newly brought Levi jeans for 40 euros, as the pants provided were like 10 sizes bigger than me.

The filming lasted until 5 p.m. though we didn't get back to Colaba until 9. No apparent rehearsal had been made, so we were used as dummies while the main actors learned their dancing and performance. The Indian girls were beautifully dressed, combed and made-up, while foreign girls would only be combed if playing an important part in the background. Boys in general were not considered at all. Not even their dressing. Only I was told to take out my cap. It obviously did not fit in the movie. We were supposed to be in a ball room where they main actor danced around the dancing floor and between the guests totally drunk until he fell in front of a stunning couple. Another scene would show him and his mistress dancing and singing around this couple. While the male character would stare fixedly at the woman, the female character would mock at them and take his man away. Another scene still would show the drunk actor recovering to his feet and arguing with the male character of the couple. The woman, though she was the most beautiful of all, did not say a single word.

While the Director kept on performing scenes for the lost actors and shouting "Silence!", even when nothing was being shot, you had the feeling that there was too much people involved, and more than half doing nothing. A woman decided which extra would appear on each scene, and the 2 foreign guys had the bad luck to be chosen for most of them. Only in one occasion did the Director addressed an extra, a 16 year old blond Swiss girl in a red dress. She was to lean on a column in what was meant to be a sexy and evocative position while talking to an Indian guy.

Jonas and I agreed on one thing, how much were we regretting getting into this. However, I left the place not having spent a rupee, but 400 Rs. richer. On the other hand, a struggler, had lost its struggle. He had not get paid. He was the tea man. It didn't matter for the rest of the crew. It didn't seem to matter for us either, we just wanted to go back and rest. It would just matter for him. All his shouting and weeping would only be for him, cause when he went back to his house, probably a slum, he would have nothing to give to his family on that day, but he would have to stay strong for another day's struggle.