India 2007

This post links back to the Shaanti post near the bottom... The next morning Hard Kaur and I flew out to Mumbai to shoot her new music video for the forthcoming release 'Look 4 Me'. The last time I visited India was over 7 years ago, this time it's business we're here to work so all-night raving is out of the question. We flew over with Emrites, with a transfer at Dubai (they even have palms inside the airport, albeit artificial) we stopped at the Irish bar where a pint costs £6, "I want a beer, not crude oil", the barman appeared unimpressed but I knew deep down he wanted to crack a smile. We opted for lychee juice instead. Ahead of was another 5 hours of aviation, the boredom was numbed by 'Emrite's award winning ICE system'.



We arrive at Mumbai and are recieved by Sahil and Danish, they're our Mumbai connection and have hooked us up with our own flat for the duration of our stay. We're staying in Lokhandwala, not too far from Juhu and Andheri but well away from the smoke of central Mumbai. The first thing that hits you is the heat, like opening the oven door and having the moisture of your eyeballs wick away. It's winter over here but averages 27-30 ℃. Our body clocks were around 4am, local time was just after midday and I was famished. We stopped for crepes, I wasn't particularly drawn by their appearance and decided on a fruit salad instead. While having brunch we confer on our battle plan, the video is the reason we're here, this is not a holiday. For the coming days I averaged 5 hours sleep a night, but what I love about Mumbai is the lack of any restrictions on trading hours you can get anything at almost any time. We often ate dinner around midnight, don't even start me on the food... It was amazing. We had to become mobile, so we signed up for our India mobiles with Hutch, an affiliate of the 3 Network. Fortunately I could use my existing V3 handset saving the discomfort of having to purchase a phone for the sake of 10 days.

TOURIST INFORMATION: If at any point you may or think you may need a blood test, do not hesitate to contact the highly commended, internationally reputed and downright fine medical institute located somewhere in 'Saat Bangla'...



Being a coastal city, you can imagine Mumbai has the most amazing seafood... It was confirmed. Mahesh's in Juhu, had the most succulent Rawas (a white fish, not too overpowering similar to Cod but less flaky) cooked in a dry tandoor served with garlic naan and all the relishes. This was so fresh, I had to check if it was still living. It melted in the mouth and was cooked to perfection.

TOURIST INFORMATION: drink Aquafina NOT Bisleri. They had a scandal recently where used bottles were being refilled with tap water and sent back out. Always check the seal. The waiter would come over and present it as if it were a vintage Chateu de... to which I would sarcastically respond "well done", "charming" or "can I taste it?". It emerged later that this presentation would be for me to confirm whether it was cold enough.

TOURIST INFORMATION: How will I cope with the language?

Almost everyone, with exception to street people, and some auto-rickshaw wallahs, can generally speak english. Don't over complexify conversation with someone who you think will unable to understand... Then again, don't insult their intelligence by assuming that they don't.



Another evening after a hard days rehersal, we decided to let our hair down a little... We met some of our Mumbai chums at the celebrity haunt, a resteraunt/bar named Zenzi. Here I bumped into Belal, I knew he was over from London but had no number to contact him on. He's a Mumbai regular, when I don't see him around London I know where is instead of enjoying the great British weather. So we shared some cheer and he joined me in a beer. Kingfisher is King out here.

We met Farishia here too, she told me that the food was amazing here, so far the food has been amazing everywhere. I ordered a sesame coated Tiger prawn stack served with sticky abruro rice drizzled with lobster sauce... It made me feel like a little kid, it was warming for the soul... Not many notable faces around, other than Ekta Kapoor (not a great face either) but she holds alot of power around here. She's the owner of Balaji Telefilms, they make nearly all of the dramas/serials that are seen on Star and Sony TV (the two biggest TV channels for Asian programmes worldwide). I wasn't inclined to ask for a role in one of these homogenous programmes, 'Idle women shows' as I describe them. Take any one, they're all based around the upper-crust of society and the patriarch is the owner of India's biggest industrial conglomorate. All the women-folk of the household are always dressed to hilt in the finest silks and approximately 3¾ kilos of gold, from the moment they rise to the moment they rest, a hair is never out of place. These women have no need to work in their house, so an idle mind is the devil's dancehall and these women tango, foxtrot and peddle all their venom to bring ruin to other peoples lives.

We moved onto the club across the road, nice venue, shame about the music policy. Dance is prevelant in Mumbai, we entered this place to the sound of hard house, I didn't find it particularly endearing. Enough said. Our group then decided to head back to the flat, we had a couple of crates to be dealt with... On route we heard a lovely sounding Harley, but there wasn't one in sight, "Sahil, you've got a flat tyre". Mumbai folk are spoilt, nobody needs to do anything for themselves when you can pay someone else do it. "Have you got a jack?" I ask Sahil, he has one but doesn't know what I intend to do with it...
Next came the fastest tyre change this side of London on a flyover in Mumbai. I didn't have a stopwatch but it took me the same time to do this as it took Farishia to smoke a cigarette. Murray Walker would have been proud. After this pit stop an impromptu party ensued, we chilled until the early hours in good company.

AN ODE TO GANESH

Ganesh, elephant headed Hindu deity who is known as the remover of obstacles. Son of Shiva the destroyer, received his elephant head courtesy of his own father... Ganesh appears, not as a apparation, but more as a metaphor whenever I'm in India. My last visit, many years before I was on excursion to Goa. This was just me and a friend riding shotgun on a fistful of sterling aka minimal budget. So we roughed it (it wasn't too rough, we had an AC Sleeper class train) to Bombay (it was still called that back then) and then on a rickety bus to Goa. Before we left Delhi, I was at a friends apartment, his servent was called Ganesh, he greeted me well. I bought myself a Ganesh necklace carved from wood (not seesham wood, it was too light). When we arrived in Bombay, we travelled with Ganesh Tours to Goa. Upon arrival, as I jumped off the bus I called the first cabbie I saw, in his cab on the dashboard was a little statue of Ganesh...



This time round in Mumbai, I have another run in with Ganesh. A street kid in a deep saffron shroud we see one night while filming. He is familiar to Danish... This time I gave something back.



On a random night out, actually this was the night we landed Danish had hooked us up with VIP at some club in central Mumbai called RedLight... The area in which it was situated reminded me of Holborn, why I not. Once you're inside, it's like any other club anywhere else, crap sound, expensive drinks* and sweaty, snooty socialites. HKs bit of a celeb in India, she always gets spotted, then no party is complete without HKs 'Glassy' being played out at least 5 times... Let's all sing along yaar! "ek glassy, do glassy, teen glassy, char..."

*Drinks, I go to the bar, (or what was supposidly a bar... felt like an old mango wood door with black curtain draped over it) and order a double Black Label. The glass had more watermarks than an olympic pool, the ice was grey. 'Rs 900 please sir'... Mental math, Rs 80 to Sterling... so this drink is £12?! "Are you taking my piss?", is what I was thinking, what came out was "keep it, get me a Kingfisher". I could understand over-inflated prices if I was in The Collection or Kensington Roof Garden, but I'm in India with the exchange rate on my side everything should be cheap(er). Beers were Rs 150-200 in a decent bar, that's about £2.40 - £2.90.

The following day, to lighten our mood we decided to have lunch at the Marriot. This may not sound much but the Marriot in Juhu is the place to stay, to eat, to party in Mumbai. Rather than the Travelodge-esque versions we have here, outside this one has burning torches of gladitorial proportions, their Marriot has a sweeping split driveway to walk up to the enterance. This is only to house the two storey water feature that imposes the forecourt. Every member of staff is an all-singing, all-dancing ode to good customer service. Every greeting is warm and sincere, and ever hopeful of a tip.

A live band plays Goan-Portuguese mellowness through the foyer overlooking the resteraunt, we are greeted at the door and escorted to the resteraunt. The views of their grounds and the coastline in the horizon are relaxing yet distracting through the 15metre glass window. Window? The whole side of the resteraunt is glass. We both choose buffet; cold meats, smoked salmon, eggs benedict but I still opt for the idli, samber and pakoré. We glanced around, this place is suited for those with a tendency to people watch... HK spots Madhuri Dixit (she's the Bollywood equivelant of Julia Roberts, not as hairy though) sitting with her two young sons, sister and parents. I didn't notice her because she was engaged in a plain family meal, away from fans and pappz. She couldn't resist herself, had to go and talk to the late 80s superstar... "what would you say?" I ask, "I don't know, but something will come out"... HK returns, beaming like a kid with extra flake, nuts and strawberry sauce. "She recognised me too, I'll send her a copy of the album". We then buffet'd the dessert, such an exotic selection but the attraction was the freshness. I couldn't resist but take a picture...



Gulab Jamun, strawberry, papaya, carrot cake and thick Malai... These tastes complimented each other and was an orgy of natural sugartastical delight.

We waved Madhuri goodbye, and onto the next resteraunt... only joking, oh the mirth!

On the subject of food, another gastronomic excerpt: I was out early one morning with a camera assistant, (he comes with the camera when you hire one), nice chap but a bit on the quiet side. We had to eat, more that I had to but nevertheless food was on the agenda. I wanted somewhere 'local', not streetfood but cafe-like. My accomplice took me to a canteen hangout where traffic wardens ate beside their roadist comrades the auto-rickshaw wallahs, sat together in formica coated MDF boothes will little 'chotoos' running the tea errands and the flicker of digital order screens in the periphery of my vision. This is the nexus where the traditional meets the modern, and together they dance in rapture. Both of us ate Dosa, a south Indian regional dish constisting of a rice flour cripsy pancake the size of the Daily Telegraph stuffed with spicy potato, or paneer, served with a coconut relish and Sambar (a watery dahl, to whet the whistle). A bottle of Limca followed by ginger tea. It was all fresh, clean and safe and this lot came to Rs. 52, so that's under one English pound. To Eat the same back in London, would cost around £15, and it wouldn't be the best Dosa you've ever had either.

TOURIST INFORMATION: STREET KIDS

The picture below at first glance may seem an exploitative cheap laugh for a tourist but allow me to contextualise... These are street children, they all look similar but are each individual personalities, you may come across endearing charmers almost the Dickensian 'Dodgers' of downtown Mumbai just as you could also meet the son of Yamdhoot (Ambassador of Death, Indian grimreaper). Remeber that they are exploited victims of a very seedy, well co-ordinated racketeering system*. It works (in variations) like this... (1) The street kids beg, (2) Their collections are taken by older or bigger kids... (3) This is paid to the top-boy who collects from all the sub-groups: street kids, pick pockets, prostitutes, street-sellers and hawkers.. (4) This is paid as protection money to the local 'Bhai' whose protection a territory is under... (5) He pays his boss and upward the chain it goes until it reaches to Overlord chilling in his Dubai apartment.



This kids caught me filming near Chaar Bangla and were captivated by the camera kit, I always have a little 'point 'n' shoot' with me so snap was definately in order. First they posed, and then I asked to imitate my physical obscenity. They were amused as much as I was with the result. Inevitably they asked for money, I opted for the fruit vendor nearby and bought them a couple of kilos of fruit. They shared it amongst themselves on the pavement, it gave them more fulfilment than any amount of money could then. You want to help these kids? DO NOT GIVE MONEY, instead feed them... Usually within spitting distance there is always a fruit-cart or pani puri stand... Take them with you and pay for what they eat. However, in your good samaritan's deeds, don't draw too much attention to yourself. Move swiftly.

*Film: 'Traffic Signal', 2007, Madhur Bhandarkar's film demonstrates this system too well.

Every morning I would awake to the chaotic yet beautifully beguiling dawn chorus of auto rickshaw horns and the general shuffle of movement in the outside world, a rinse of the face and scrub of the mouth before a hop, skip and a jump down three storeys (I would use the lift but it's one of those vintage victorian-style contraptions which I have no qualms with it's just the annoying monotonic bleeping to the tune of Beethoven's 5th Symphoney that I refuse to endure. Many sounds of warning are to that tune, when vehicles reverse: Beethoven... Doorbells: Beethoven... Mobile phones: Beethoven... If he was on royalites through IPRS, he would be minted (but dead still). I always salute the watchman on the way out, they always get excited. A quick duck and dive through the traffic to the Chai-wallah (Tea guy) for two cups of 'cutting chai'. Sometimes brewed with a little ginger, this quick shot refreshment is suitable any time of the day. Poured into small cups from altitude more than height (this knocks air into the tea to give a smoother, lighter texture) it's a nifty little booster of downtown Mumbai recharging cops and robbers alike. At only Rs 2½ it's the driving force behind the worlds next economic power. The most endearing part is that I take the cups back up to the flat and need not return them until the following morning. Now that's service.



So a run down of places I would reccomend:
- Zenzi, Waterfield Road, Bandra. Tiled and terracotta bar area with and airy tropical shui. A wonderful restaraunt for summer evening dining.

- Mahesh, Juhu. The best seafood in the Juhu area, It's a lunchroom so it closes early. The Coastal Rawas is a must.

- That Cheap 'n' Cheerful. Tell the auto driver 'Charbangla' it's on the corner. Fresh, traditional food for the locals, by the locals.

- Alfredo's. College student hang-out serving a poor arribiata but an excellent Lychee Frappé.

- Mista Paaji. Good old fashioned Punjabi food, the concept of this place is that the owner left his homeland for NY taking his beloved tandoor oven and bhangra music. He returns triumphant spreading the gospel of Punjabi food and culture. Served on hand beaten brass and copper crockery this is a 'roll up your sleeves and get stuck in' genre of retstaraunt that pumps all the bhangra classics at full volume.

- Urban Tadka. Gimmicks is what make this more of an experience than just a meal. The walls are decorated with Punjabi artifacts such as Dhols, Manjé and fine fabrics. The menu is characterised by giving the dishes amusing names that include punjabi phrases with the actual food... Such as: Balle Balle Cholay, Brrrrrha Kebab etc. Well worth a visit.

- The Marriot, Juhu. Over-priced, considering how much everything else costs everywhere else. Nothing 'mind-blowing'. As Danish would say to condemn anything "that's fock all yaar!"



VIDEO SHOOT

We're not on holiday, this is business. But the pace in India sometimes makes everything like an oxymoronic 'hectic siesta'. In Film City Mumbai (ironically, at the Balaji Telefilm studio), we're here to shoot a video for the first single of the debut album. A little ditty called 'Look 4 Me', produced by D Boy (he was also in India at the same time recording in Delhi, a cameo in the shoot is requisit). The Director is Sumit Dutt, he's worked in France and the States on documentary projects as well as fiction. The concept of the video is all chroma-key (or 'green-screen') and will be heavily post-p with video graphics. My role is as Creative Consultant, liasing with HK and Sumit on the creative, image and art aspects of the project.



The video features a local lad called, Mickey, selected model for his 'cuteness and boyish charm'. His character is chasing and attempting to woo HK. There are also dancers, 4 guys in two different looks. Choreographed by Harshil/Vital, who trained under Bollywood Über-Choreographer: Farrah Khan (not to be mistaken for Louis of the Nation of Islam), we were in safe hands. One thing I noticed was that everybody had an assistant. HK had two make up artists, one was the assistant because the main one was too important to merely do touch-ups between shots. There was someone else to do her hair. This is a peculiar rule of Film City in Mumbai, or the industry as whole... That make-up artists cannot be female and that hair-stylists cannot be male. I thought it odd but didn't bother questioning it. There was a sprat hanging around outside the trailer, he wanted a job... He wanted to be my assistant. At Rs 200 a day, which is steep considering the lighting boys get paid about Rs 150 to handle kilowatts of electricity, I thought why not hire him. He turned out to be a cheeky little shit. Anytime I wanted a drink, beedis etc., I would give him the money (I could get the location manager to get them for free) and he would keep the change. I don't have a problem with that, keep it as a tip. I ran out of things for him to do... He was seen snooping around the trailer. The next day I told him I won't be requiring his services and asked him to kindly piss off.



It's one thing that people may not like about India, I certainly didn't, which is the way that people with power can talk to people who are oppressed. It's a harsh reality but if you ask rather than tell, things don't get done. This extends beyond the film set and into every day life in India, from Rickshaw wallahs, bus boys and street rats. If you don't have money you are usually spoken to like shit. Some decent folk don't talk to them like shit, but still address with a hint of inferior manner. It's a sad situation, but as Sahil and I conversed; most common people aren't caught up with the pretence of politeness. They want what they want, it's a 'me first' culture so 'please' and 'thank you' kills too much time and ultimately an oppurtunity. One tourist with a conscience isn't going to change the mass of people, especially when they don't want to.

Now a word from our sponsor, SOMA CHATAI WALA. Hauté Reed Mats, fresh from the sweatshop.



Times Now, India's hot new music channel wanted an interview with HK. Rupali was the interviewer, I've met her from before when she was filming in London. She's a little vacant, sometimes. Between interviews and Red Bull I was generally a menace on the set, snapping away like a Japanese tourist and keeping HK hyped. " It's great so far, now we need some extra energy from HK in the next shot" said Sumit...

"Bring out the hot pants" I replied.

The track, produced by D Boy has thumping kick with a cute little flute riff contrasting HK's lyrical delivery all sweetened with the honeyed vocals of Ash King. You could point at D Boy from across the room and say "that guy, he's a cool guy". Never stressed, always smiling that's D Boy. Respect.



The shoot lasted two days, we began early everyday and didn't wrap up until midnight. On the final night after we wrapped it was the first real moment that HK and I could relax a little, we packed away our stuff and bundled it into Anwar's car and headed for Urban Tadka for a late night dinner with Sumit, Eara (Sumit's beloved wife) and Anwar. The relaxation kicked in well, we feasted on fresh lamb tikka, garlic naan, sweet butter chicken and in true desi style made merry by singing the old-skool Punjabi paeans. We rounded off the night with a traditional dessert of Jalebi with Rabdi, Sumit demostrated the multi-functional facets of this ancient recipe...



We had about 8 hours until our flight was due to leave, HK rested after performing like a pro for a two day shoot. Sahil met us back at the flat, and D Boy joined us to. His flight was in few hours and needed a place to hang. What better than our place. We reminisced on a premature nostalgia of events that were only hours old, smiled and sat back content....

A few weeks later HK flies back for a tour and returns with the video edited, video-graph'd and hot... Enjoy...