Bollywood Bums (Part 1)
Last Updated on Tuesday, 03 November 2009 18:59 Written by Brian Tuesday, 03 November 2009 15:34
“And I, for one, will join in with anyone, I don't care what color you are, as long as you want to change this miserable condition that exists on this earth.”
- Malcolm X
Leaving Pune for Mumbai, I was assured that for at least one week no one would be catering to my needs. No indian allies to hold my hand through the city and I had a language barrier thicker than the Berlin Wall. While Pune was no small city, Mumbai is host to at least 5 times the amount of people in the same amount of space. Even more intimidating was that we were staying in a budget hostel that we knew very little about other than we were going to pay about 6.50 US$ a night to stay there. I was less than excited about the prospect of the week. I had gotten too used living beyond my means and this week on my own promised that I would be brought back down to Earth rather quickly.
After a few wrong turns and a bit of wandering, we arrived at the Salvation Army Red Shield Hostel. We were greeted by a salt and pepper haired man, who was preoccupied with a cell phone call. After a minute delay, he welcomed us to the hostel and asked “Would you want to be in Bollywood film?” The four of us looked at one another and shrugged our shoulders saying why not. After booking our stay, he handed us a business card with the casting director's name and number on it. Ella called on behalf of all of us. Using her indian accent, she deciphered whether or not this was a legitimate offer. Everything seemed kosher from us as spectators, apparently the man needed “westerners” in his film, but he was unaware that one of us (me) was black. Realizing this, the salt and pepper security guard grabbed our attention. He repeatedly said “Say, one black. Say one black.” Ella being the sweet girl she was, ignored the security guard and continued discussing the logistics of the shoot.
Afraid of possible disappointment and anticipating some sort of discriminatory response from the casting director, I joined the security guard and repeated, “say one black”. The last thing I wanted to do was put someone in a position where they had to discriminate based on artistic merits as well as I didn't want to be the victim of discrimination in a country where the ACLU had no jurisdiction. Eventually Ella said rather reticently, “we have one black, is that okay?” Luckily for me, the man said obliged. For if he didn't, I would've been forced with the age old Baldwinesq question of, why am I cursed with this disease of blackness? Lucky for me, Imran saved me from that existential dilemma.
Excited about the prospect of being in a movie and a vacation from structure and classes, I dragged my luggage up 3 flights of stairs to the 3rd floor. I opened the door, which was kept closed by a thick lock and entered our 10x10 chamber. I looked up and saw a never ending ceiling above. The room was painted diarrhea brown on the bottom and typhoid fever yellow at the top. The paint was of course chipped and we were engulfed by the surrounding cobwebs. Like the standard torture chamber, the room was dimly lit and had thick rusty pipes running throughout the room. Sat in the middle of the room were to small twin-sized dingy mattresses. A closer look revealed bloodstains and other questionable marks on the sheets. I made a few jokes, but I wasn't too keen on the prospect of staying for the next few days. The mattress was no more than an inch or two thick and the one window, wasn't enough insulation to reverse the claustrophobia of the room. At least the fan worked.
I walked over to the bathroom across the hall only to discover that it wasn't in any better shape than my room. Instead of looking like a chamber, it looked like a scene from Saw I. The sink was broken, not as in the water didn't work, but as in half of the sink was missing or broken, depending on how you decided to view it. There were more rusty pipes and a toilet that didn't even seem sanitary enough to defecate on much less make us of as a domestic item. Shower or bath tub didn't exist, rather, there was just a showerhead that sprayed water. For all this, there was only one drainer in the far right corner of the room. Painting an even bleaker picture, the drainer was even clogged. Although I was bothered by the condition of the bathroom, the one sacred place I have in a home, I realized there were no other options for me.
I started the water and was startled by the frigid temperature of the water. Not to mention that I had never taken a shower so close to a toilet before. But overshadowing all the physical discomfort was an ugly hooting sound. I dismissed it as just another quirk of an old broken down building (even by Indian standards). Within thirty seconds, the hoots grew louder, which prompted me to turn towards the sound. Low and behold, there was a pigeon perched on a pipe, staring at me as if I were the oddity in the room. After making eye contact, it flew towards me, my heart raced out of my skin and I scurried into a corner. The pigeon position itself on the toilet and glared in my direction, I grabbed my things and sprinted out of the bathroom, pouring wet.
Animal Kingdom – 1
Brian Clarke – 0
Joining us were two women from Australia, Anya and Alice. Alice had about ten piercings between her nose, ears and lips. If that didn't spell free spirit and hippie enough, her pants had tears all over them and her thin silk shirt was hippie-esq in its bagginess. To top it off her hair looked as if she hadn't washed it in months. Somehow she still exhumed an air of beauty that couldn't be denied. Her friend Anya was beautiful in the more conventional sense. She had loud blues eyes and well kept blonde hair kept in a neat ponytail. Decked out in what seemed like pajamas, but because she was wearing both baggy black pants and a black tank-top, it could just of easily just been her style. Much like us, these two women were just passing through. It was amazing, so far we were by far the youngest people, everyone was at least in their mid to late twenties. Although I wanted to ask everyone how old they were, but I was sure that would ruin any future conversation. I wanted to maintain the illusion of my maturity for as long as possible.
Before long, Imran screamed and signaled for our group to come across the street to join him. We all rushed across the street, interrupting traffic and bringing attention to ourselves by giggling and chuckling as we stopped cars from proceeding. Imran lead us down the street, waving his arms to keep us in line while we trekked down the street. He was the goat herder and we were the goat and like the goats, we had no idea where we were headed. Frantically trying to hail a cab, yet failing, Imran's frustrations began to mount, as time was his enemy and he was losing lots of it. We all began looking around smiling nervously at each other, showing our anxieties with our most uneasy facial expressions.
Imran finally succeeded in grabbing a line of cabs, Buddha, Zach, Mikey and I squeezed into a cab. Along the way the Diwali celebrations and fireworks startled me at every stop light. Everything from firecrackers, fireworks and straight up bonfires were all a part of the celebration on this night in Mumbai. My high pitched shrieks in response to the explosions, gave both the westerners and the driver a good chuckle.
A Mikey Aside:
“Dude, lemme tell you my south side Chicago experience. It was like eleven at night, and I'm at this chicken spot, I dunno if you guys have ever been in one of those places with the bullet proof glasses, but it had the most awesome fried chicken I've ever had. But I was so scared, I was this little goofy tall white guy, the only white guy for at least six or seven blocks and everyone was staring. So I finish up my food as quick as could. I left this abandoned shopping mall and there's absolutely no one around, so I decide I was going to walk down to the main road to find a cab. But before I even get to the corner, some black guy and some girl says, 'yo white boy, where you need to go I'll take you.' Ya know I may be some sheltered kid from Oregon, but ya know I spent enough time in Cali that I wasn't gonna fall for that. So I kept walking, I even said no thanks and kept going. He kept following me in his black cadillac screaming at me, first he was like, 'Yo where you gonna go, just hop in.' I kept ignoring him and then the dude screamed 'I said white boy, get in FUCKIN car!' At that point I was so scared, I just sprinted down the street. By the time I stopped, there was no one behind me and I was so relieved. I honestly thought I was gonna die on the South Side of Chicago.”
*****
We again gathered on the side of the street, now with another smaller Indian man, who was to take us to the train. Standing outside of the train station, there was chaos surrounding us, people runn
ing in and out of the station, an agoraphobe's worse nightmare. The tiny man lead us into the train station once we were all accounted for. The first thing I noticed was that there were more Africans than I'd ever seen in Mumbai. Again we clustered together as westerners, talking amongst ourselves and surveying the surroundings. Within a minute, beggar children approached us, as well as girls who were just enamored with the beautiful western women standing around. We all joked that it could quite possibly be our first and last train ride in Mumbai as we heard many horror stories about the violence and theft on the train. We were even instructed to keep the women surrounded by the men so that they weren't accosted by some of the more predatory men. 20 westerners all looking for the same adventure and the same end: to be typecast and stereotyped in Bollywood movie.
Gathered in a train car that was half the size of a New York City Subway car or a CTA “L” car, but had a maximum capacity of 250 people. I had the pleasure of a window seat and fortunately for all of us, we all had seats next to each other. Once again, we were isolated away from everyone else. The wind
ow seat quickly became a double-edged sword, as I got a wonderful view of Bombay during Diwali. A front row seat of fireworks, sparklers and celebration. However, I was approached by eunuchs begging for money. By eunuchs, I mean men who are literally castrated sex slave, male beggars. Not only was I shocked that there were male faces dressed up as women, I was even more taken aback, by their persistence even though we were separated by a window. I was told shortly thereafter that I was now cursed with bad luck for three years, because I didn't give the eunuchs money. More specifically I will not be able to have sex for the next three years, because of the curse. I'm not superstitious, but even that is too specific to not bring about some type of feeling of authenticity.
I looked around the train and within 5 minutes, it was crowded, with mostly Indians watching us. We offered ourselves to the spectators against our will, but tried to ignore the stares, while embracing the moment. Before we could progress to Bollywood, we had some catching up to do. The mere introduction wasn't enough. We all had stories, we wanted to tell each other about what brought us to this moment; this set of circumstances brought together 20 aimless nomads who were brought together by foreign people just because of the color of their skin. Usually this ends up badly, but for some reason, I felt optimistic.
Just Sayin'
-The only equality that exists among all races and creeds is the ability to claim aesthetic superiority in the ugliest of ways.
-When you're selling me a product, don't tell me that I have to pay more because I'm an American and then expect me to actually agree.
-Never trust an airline that is named after a beer company. DUI's may be cool for drunk frat boys, but not for licensed pilots
-You can't claim racial superiority over another group if you're using bleaching cream to achieve your fair skin. You're still dark and still as ugly you were on the inside prior to the chemical change
-Jolly “Nigger” Banks are racist no matter what country you're in.
-One can never be completely lonely as long as there's a bar open with a bartender
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