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Published: September 16th 2011
The Raj Mandir
LIke a giant cake. With a cinema insideNo visit to India is complete without the Bollywood Experience. I was fortunate enough to see a Bollywood film at a cinema that is considered to be one of India's finest, the Raj Mandir. It looks like an immense meringue, and has been described as a cross between a temple and Disneyland.
The whole experience was extraordinary. We were the only non-locals in the cinema, and drew curious looks from people as we walked in. The entrance hall to the theatre was nothing less than magnificent. As the curtains drew back and the film began, there was a huge cheer from the crowd and much clapping. This was a common event throughout the film. Whenever the hero pulled a cool move, or triumphed over a bad guy, everyone was whooping, whistling and clapping. Some people even stood up so they could clap with greater gusto. Proper audience participation. Imagine that in an English cinema. You'd probably get some bloke tapping you on the shoulder from behind, and asking if you'd “mind keeping things down".
The film was a high-budget Bollywood Blockbuster. It seemed to be a fairly decent film, filled with humour, action, chase scenes, fights and plot twists.
Still or sparkling?
A water-wallah, plying his trade However, I can only guess at the plot twists, since the whole film was in Hindi. And since my Hindi is limited to three words, it was difficult to tell exactly what was going on. But it seemed the hero was a policeman, and the villain was his evil twin brother. A classic story. But even without knowing the full plot, it was still an entertaining visual feast. Every time something dramatic happened, the film would go into slow motion, accompanied by some cheesy sound effect. For example, the hero would jump across the gap between two buildings. The scene slows down, and you'd hear a sweeping "whoooooosh" noise. I have jumped around a fair bit in my life, and I have never managed to make a whooshing sound. Perhaps I'm just not jumping right.
And no Bollywood film would be complete without the dancing and singing. This was the most surreal part of the whole film. In the middle of an action scene, the main characters would suddenly turn and face the camera, and burst into song, whilst pulling off some magnificent dance moves. Can you imagine that in a James Bond movie? Picture the scene. James is
Cat amongst the pigeons
Well, Pete amongst the pigeons actually running through the narrow backstreets, dragging along a damsel in distress, whilst being pursused by a gang of five Russian men with guns. He’s dodging bullets, leaping over dogs, and knocking bins over to slow their pursuit. Suddenly, James turns a corner only to find a dead end. The Russians rush around the corner to see their target cornered. But instead of firing their guns, they turn to the camera and start a synchronised dancing routine whilst singing a jolly song called “Now we’re going to shoot you”. James and the women also join in the dancing routine and the singing. Once the song is over, the action would continue where it left off.
Also (and I’m not sure how true this is) I have heard that kissing is frowned upon in Bollywood films. Yet suggestive dancing, hip-thrusting and dry-humping seems perfectly acceptable!
Bollywood is widely credited as being the largest film industry in the world, even greater than Hollywood. Over 1,000 movies are produced each year, and over 14 million Indians watch Bollywood movies each day One survey even showed that 73% of Movie Admissions in the whole of Asia come from India! So there is no
Does my bum look big in this?
If I owned an elephant, never in a million years would I have thought of painting it's arse doubt that India is Bollywood crazy. But sadly, Bollywood is being subject to the same piracy that is devastating film industries worldwide. As technology and affordable computers sweep their way across India, so piracy becomes a bigger and bigger problem, with more people turning to illegal downloads than visiting the cinemas. And films are becoming more expensive to make - some films can attract 1 billion viewers, and not even make a profit
Before I explain the next part of my story, I need to mention the Indian Caste system. (My knowledge of this is only basic, so please feel free to correct any misconceptions or inaccuracies) This is a simplification, but it follows the principle that everyone is born into a strict social grouping. It determines the job you will take, the people your interact with, and your level in society. There is almost no way to change your social standing. You must marry within your group, and socialize within your group. The four main groupings are as follows:
1. 1. The Brahmans – the priestly and learned class
2. 2. The Kshatriyas – the warriors and rulers
3. 3. The Vaisyas – the traders, merchants
The Amber Fort
Glowing with magnificence on the hilltop and agriculturalists
4. 4. The Sudras – peasants and labourers
Each of these groups is split further into “castes” and “sub-castes”, with a job associated with that particular caste. You cannot rise above your caste. If you are born into a caste, then in that caste you shall remain. You will get a job suitable for that caste, and you will marry someone from that caste. So if your father is a farmer, you will become a farmer, and your children will be farmers. If you have aspirations to become a policeman or a businessman, it doesn’t matter how bright or capable you are, it will simply never be possible. It is a far cry from the Western world where we teach our children to reach for the sky, and that they can become anything they want with enough determination and dedication. Some of the higher castes will not even eat food if it has been touched or prepared by someone of a lower caste. It’s like the English Class System gone crazy.
So, as well as the four main castes, there is a fifth caste right at the bottom. These people are seen as the lowest of
The Untouchables
Lovely happy kids. With no pens the low. They do the most menial of jobs, such as dealing with dead bodies and cleaning toilets. They are looked down upon by all the other castes. They are known as the “Untouchables”. One evening, I was on our hotel roof, waiting for the sunset with a cold beer in my hand when I heard some kids shouting below me. I gazed down, and on a rooftop below me were a small gang of skinny kids, with dirty faces and ripped clothes. They were smiling, shouting and jumping up and down. “Pen, Pen” they were shouting. This was a popular request in India, and I had brought a huge bag of pens with me to India to give out to children. So I went back to my room and came back with some pens. The kids were about three stories below me, and I threw some pens down to them. They failed to catch them, and they smashed to smithereens (“smithereens”, what an excellent word. I haven’t used that for quite some time). I threw down a couple more, with the same result. But the kids were wildly excited by this, and were running around and jumping up and
Simply Charming
The snakes were loving it down. I looked around on the hotel roof, and found a spool of kite line. So I tied some pens to the cotton, and started lowering then down to the happy, dancing childen below. Then I heard a softly spoken voice in my ear saying “excuse me sir”. I turned around, and it was the hotel manager. “You cannot give pens to them sir”, he said. “Excuse me?” I said, somewhat confused. He repeated himself softly but firmly “you cannot give pens to them sir”. “Whyever not?” I replied. “Because they are Untouchables”. He said this with a kind of finality, as if that explained everything. Clearly it did not, and from my confused look, he went on to explain “It is not the done thing sir. We cannot have a guest of this hotel interacting with them. It is bad for our reputation”. I was shocked that something as simple as giving a child a pen was frowned upon. But I was a guest in his hotel, I had to respect his request.
The caste system takes some getting used to as a Westerner. But there are other Indian “traditions” which are even more shocking. Such as the
Sneaky snake
"got my hood out, in case it rains" practice of “Sati. This is a religious funeral rite, where a widowed woman throws herself onto the burning funeral pyre of her dead husband. Historically this is a voluntary act, but even more shocking is where the woman is coerced, or even forced into the act. This is now illegal in India, and it’s illegal to even be present if the woman performs the act. But despite outlawing this barbaric practice, it apparently still happens in some communities
And so, back to the delights of tourism around Jaipur. On the outskirts of the city is the Amber Fort, an impressive building situated on a hilltop. Outside were two snake charmers, plying their art. They were playing a tune, and sure enough, the cobras had risen out of their baskets. They were stood erect, with the slightest sway, the sun gleaming off their shiny black bodies, entranced by the melodic music. How on earth does that work? I wonder if they music has to be played perfectly. Drop a bad note or an off-key chord, and the snake goes tumbling back into the basket? Does it have to be a particular type of music? If I was a snake charmer,
What are you looking at?
A vicious monkey, just before it attacked me I’d experiment a bit. Broaden their musical tastes. After all, it can’t be much fun in that basket. And listening to that same music every day must be driving them insane. It’s a wonder they don’t bite anyone, or knock the basket over and make a run for it (metaphorically speaking of course. We all know snakes have no legs). So I’d play them some Jazz, or maybe some Motown or Disco.
Although I don’t know how the art of snakecharming is actually done, I do know a few things which I will share with you. The most commonly used snake is the cobra, which is highly poisonous. But most snakes are rendered harmless in a number of ways. Some charmers drain their poison glands, so that the most they can inflict is a nasty nip, whereas others remove the snake’s fangs altogether. I’ve even heard tales of men sewing the snakes mouths shut. Another method is to train the snakes not to attack, which is done by taunting the snake at an early age with a metal pole. The snake strikes the pole, and the clang of fang on metal causes the snake pain. This process is repeated
over the course of a few weeks, until the snake associates the act of attacking with pain, and stop trying to bite.
The snake charmers you see are most likely of a snakecharmer caste. This means that their father was a snake charmer, and their grandfather before that. Indeed, there are several places in India that have villagers full of snakecharmers. Crazy but true, look it up and see!
Anyway, back to the Amber Fort. Inside the fort, there were a large number of decorated elephants. By decorated, I mean they were draped in the finest golden embroidered shawls, and were wearing makeup. They had various colourful motifs painted on their grey bodies, and I swear some of them were wearing eyeliner. Some of them even had jewellery and bling. MTV should do a TV show on these magnificent beasts – “Pimp My Elephant”
As I was leaving the fort, there were numerous men selling tacky tourist items.I fended them off with gentle waves of the hand and comments like:
”No, I don’t want a small painted elephant”
“No, I don;t want a hand-printed scarf – it’s far too warm”
They weren’t very persistant,
All dressed up and nowwhere to go
Apart from carrying fat tourists around the fort which made a welcome change from the rest of India. A gentle wave of the hand and a polite refusual did the trick. They simply turned their attentions to the trickle of tourists coming down the hill
But one item caught my eye. It was an Indian turban which was woven into a one-piece “hat” that could be simply placed onto one’s head. I thought this could make a fabulous accessory for an Indian dinner party, and so purchased the item immediately. I decided to wear it down the hill, which proved to be a fatal mistake. All eyes turned on me, and suddenly I was a hot target. I was a tourist who had actually “bought something” and everyone wanted a piece of the action. Within ten seconds I was surrounded by a swarm of local salesmen, thrusting elephants and statues into my face with a cry of “sir, sir, sir, I give you good price”. I started walking away, and they followed me down, pushing and jostling each other for the prime position. A gentle wave of the hand did not work this time. So I increased my pace. They kept up with my pace, with more
The Turban
This is the purchase that caused a crowd of street sellers to chase me down the hill and more locals adding to the fray as I descended down the hill. I was walking at a very brisk speed at this point. But everyone wanted a piece of this tourist who had got his wallet out and actually purchased something. I tried a few harsh words, but they still kept following me. So I broke out into a light jog. They increased their pace, reluctant to let their prize get away. Soon, it was like the London Marathon, except in India. Dozens of people were jogging down the hill with me, still insisting on giving me a “good price”. I was soon running, but people were matching my speed, waving their goods and shouting “please, good sir”. It became this ridiculous comedy where I thought the whole town would be chasing me until I collapsed with exhaustion, with the words “OK, I’ll buy something”. But after two more corners, people started to get out of breath, and gradually they dropped off. I felt guilty for not spending a few more tourist dollars, but to be honest, if I had stopped, they would have eaten me alive. I was lucky to escape, just as I was lucky earlier in
Hilltop Palace
Another view of the spectacular Amber Fort the day when I nearly got attacked by wild monkeys in the fort.
The final stop on my India tour was Delhi. A dirty, congested city which I found had little appeal. We stayed at the “Hotel Perfect”, which would have been better named “Hotel Barely Adequate”. In my room was a some kind of ancient electrical device from the seventies. It was called a "Logicstat" and consisted of a large metal box with a voltage meter and two buttons. It's the sort of thing you would see in a 70's movie where the hero gets tied to a chair, hooked up with cables and electrocuted to make him talk. To this day, I still have no idea what this curious device was. Have a look at the photo, and write your answers on a postcard
I don’t have much to say about Delhi, and I was equally under-impressed by the airport, which ranks as one of my least favourite of all time. Any airport which has feral cats running around needs some attention! Oh well, at least they sorted out the rat problem.
And so my travels in India drew to a close. But this
The Mystery Machine
Ten points to the person who can tell me what this device in my hotel room was was just the beginning. Stay tuned for tales from Ethiopia, China and Kazahkstan!
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The Travel Camel
Shane Dallas
Raj Mandir
Your blog brings back memories of my visit to the Raj Mandir in 2004 where I witnessed "Veer-Zaara" complete with cheering, applauding and no subtitles - one of the my most enjoyable cinemas experiences ever! And you are correct, kissing in Bollywood movies is severely frowned upon, but dancing pelvic thrusts are considered fine. Thanks for posting such an interesting blog!