All language subtitles for Clive James Postcard from Bombay BBC 720p EN SUB

"Go to India!" they said.

"It's going to be the biggest thing
in the new Asia.

"And the city you should see first,"
they said, "is going to be
the biggest thing in the new India."

They said, "This place is hot!"

They were right! The temperature
was outdone only by the humidity.

The locals didn't notice.
They were too busy.

Bombay is India's boom town -
it's official.

Since the economy was
de-regulated in 1991,

free-enterprise capitalism has set
free the energy of entrepreneurs,

especially in Bombay, which has the
most know-how, the most everything.

There are 12 million people here,
and more arriving every day.

I got the impression they were all
out there, proving to me THEY could
take the heat without sweating.

Some of the entrepreneurs were in
action right there on the pavement.

The open-air ear cleaners were
probing with that extra vigour

small businessmen acquire
when they know they'll be allowed
to keep the profits.

There was a time when they would
have had to pay tax on the wax.

The pavement dentist also shows
the benefits of the economic boom.

More people
want their smiles improved.

Missing teeth are replaced with
teeth that once belonged to others.

With the aid of his receptionist,

he can give you a full set,
filed to fit.

You'll be smiling
someone else's smile,

but you can't deny he saw a gap
in the market.

Under the old economic system,
a dentist would have had to pay off
eight officials to stay in business.

Now it's only four.

He has to pay them twice as much,
but he saves on paperwork.

Less paperwork, more bridgework.

WOMAN LAUGHS

As Bombay faces a big future, the
street-corner astrologers do well.

Everyone with a piece of the action

wants to find out what happens next.

This astrologer
had a low-rent office,

but didn't skimp on my particulars.

What is your name? Clive James.

JAMES.

Date of birth?

Er...7th of October... 7, 10...

19...? 39.

39.

Time?

Time - morning, evening, afternoon?

Evening.

What clock? Midnight.

'Armed with my vital statistics,
he consulted

'a set of astrologer's log tables,

'and predicted my past
with more accuracy than I could.'

1975...'85, this problem.

1985? '85.

Er...I can't think of one.

Insult!

Insult?
Ah, yes. And quarrels...

'He was right.
I had been insulted in 1985.

'A TV critic had said that my eyes

'were too close together.

'But TV critics had insulted me
every other year as well, so it
scarcely counted as clairvoyance.

'Next, he consulted my King line,
and daringly deduced

'I was not the next King of England.

'But he got closer to home.'

Paralysis in heart.

Paralysis in heart? When?
Two troubles.

When? 1996, say. 1996, I'm going to
have heart trouble? Heart trouble.

And paralysis.
I think I'm having it now!

'He predicted that I'd be ironed
out by a heart attack in 1996.

'Since I weighed 50 pounds
more than him and was sweating
all over his boutique,

'I couldn't give any prizes
for soothsaying.

'I was ready to have a heart attack
any time he cared to name.

'By now it was high noon, and I was
daydreaming about air-conditioning.

'I hailed a taxi,
in the mistaken belief that
the air would be cool inside it.'

OK!

'An oven would have been cooler.'

ENGINE COUGHS AND GRINDS

'An oven would have been faster.

'The taxi had a starter motor, but
it wasn't connected to the engine.

'The driver relied on the passenger.

'This was free enterprise
at its most ruthless,
its most fiercely competitive.'

ENGINE SPLUTTERS INTO LIFE

'My driver was the only man I had
so far seen sweating besides myself.

'Given a fair chance,
he was going all the way.

'But Bombay also has plenty of
people who aren't going anywhere.

'At the first traffic-lights,
they started to show up.

'In the West,
when somebody begs from you,

'you can look through him, if you
don't mind seeing your reflection.

'The average Bombay beggar
is harder to wish away.

'Officially, beggars are not a
problem, because they don't exist.

'But they're always there,
against your window,
like a conscience in a bottle.

'In Bombay,

'you can get rich enough
to ride in a big car, but no amount
of money changes the view.'

Hello!

When the taxi fell apart,
I was back on the street.

The only sure way to close your eyes

to the harsh facts is to open them
elsewhere, preferably in the dark.

In audience terms, India has
the biggest film industry on Earth.

Most Indian movies are made in
Bombay, also known as Bollywood.

Everyone goes to the movies,
from the rich to people who have
no other roof over their heads.

FAST, RHYTHMIC MUSIC

You can soon see the big attraction

that Bollywood movies offer -
escape.

You can escape from a harsh life.

You can escape from your fellow man.

You can escape from everything
except the sheer nonsense
up there on the screen.

Everyone in a Bollywood movie

either sings, dances,
or sings AND dances.

The hero and heroine
are not allowed to kiss,

but they are allowed
to sing and dance.

In fact,
they're rarely allowed not to.

The only suspense

is whether the hero's hairstyle
will hold up.

Anil Kapoor's hairstyle
is famous for its durability.

The choreography tries but fails

to unhinge his quiff.

For the audience, it's a dream of
power, of doing it all on your own.

HORNS BEEP

Back outside in the hot light,

the people of Bombay
are never alone for a moment.

Victoria Terminus is where a lot
of Bombay's new citizens arrive.

The building dates back to the Raj.

For students of imperial
architecture, it's a masterpiece,

evoking a time
when the rulers of old India

brought South Kensington with them.

The sahibs are long gone,

so, when a low-budget sahib arrives,
he can count on plenty of attention.

As I tried out the fortune-telling
weighing-machine,

I drew a crowd,
keen to see if it would collapse.

They were doomed to disappointment.

The card said, "You have lost
seven pounds of sweat, but watch
out for a heart attack in 1996!"

In the station's great days,

great trains took great people
great distances.

The greatest were the white nabobs,
but the occasional maharajah
could afford a seat.

Everybody else
had to travel outside, hanging on.

Now they all seem to be doing that,
but at least they're all Indians.

Some carriages are women-only,

which suggests that male commuters
can't be trusted in a crowded train.

The rush-hour trains are so crowded

that gangs of children
earn a living picking up the litter
from the tracks and selling it.

It was the slack part of the day,
so there was room for me
to get inside.

I didn't have to cling
to one of the scrums that
form around the door in rush hour,

shedding people at each stop,
and often in between.

The passing air cooled the carriage
to less than 100 degrees Fahrenheit,

so I was at my most suave when
I finally arrived at Film City.

Film City was dominated by this set
for an epic movie called Rajkumar.

The set was made of plywood
and plaster of Paris,

and exterior shooting
had to be completed
before the monsoon washed it away.

You might think
these movies are "made"

like a couple of colliding cars
make sculpture.

But this one showed signs
of being assembled with some care.

Actual rehearsals were taking place.

Sir, you're the director? Yes.

'The director, Punkuj Parrashar,
seemed a together sort of bloke.'

Look around? Sure.
Don't get in the way.

OK. Can I stay here? Sure, here.

The movie's star
was the famous Madhuri.

She was about to shoot
a crucial scene

in which she'd see
the male lead's hairstyle.

I stood out of the way.

I didn't want to blow a take,

because we professionals know
time means money.

OVER LOUD-HAILER: Excuse me, sir?
Please come aside? Thanks. Please.

Thank you.

YELLING

MUSIC AND SINGING START UP
One, two, three!

CYMBALS CLASH

MUSIC STOPS
OK! OK.

INAUDIBLE

Everybody went on standby
while Madhuri prepared
for her next sequence.

The busiest person on set was the
choreographer and dancing mistress,

who demonstrated the routine
one step at a time.

INAUDIBLE

Madhuri cranked up the grand passion
and copied the dancing mistress

while an electric fan tousled
her abundant hair and the extras.

I was well aware how privileged
I was to be so close to Madhuri.

350 million people would watch
the finished routine in the cinema.

Male fans would throw coins
at the screen in an attempt
to attract the attention

that I was getting from her
just by barging in.

For the last shot, she drew on her
reserve tank of ecstatic abandon.

And that was the end of the day.

Although I had ruined a take,
I was allowed to talk to the star.

Do you do it all little piece by
little piece? Yes, not in one go.

And the teacher...? She teaches me
the steps and I do them.

Then you put it together? Yes.
I'm impressed!

Maybe I could do that?
Sure! We'll try it.

'She thought she was joking.

'But I was getting an idea.

'The world of movies looked more
attractive, the more I saw reality.'

The film company kindly provided me
with a limousine,

but the road back to town
was an eye-opener.

This wasn't the poverty
you get after a natural disaster,

with children starving to death.

For the poor here, there's always
food if they look hard enough.

But they don't have time to do
anything else. This is poverty
as a way of life - career poverty.

The richer Bombay gets,
the more poor people

come from the country
for a chance to earn something.

The wealth at the top
should 'trickle down'.

The official story is
that it's already trickling.

But it could trickle a bit harder.

Nobody out here is in any danger
of drowning in affluence.

Only a few miles away
from Film City,

Juhu Beach is where the stars live,

cooled by the spray of waves
and the sea breeze,

high in apartment blocks
with windows open towards the West.

'Famous actress Shabbana Azmi spends
a lot of time helping the poor,

'so you can't blame her
for spending some time here.'

To me, I think India,
and particularly Bombay,

is about living simultaneously
in several centuries.

You have people living back-to-back
from the 17th to the 21st century.

You can see a bit of Bombay
that's medieval,

and then you get into a very swanky
office or a fabulous residence,

and somebody's using the microwave
while someone else
is cooking on the pavement.

People at any given time and place
encapsulate all the differences that
arise out of these contradictions.

That's what Bombay - and India -
is all about.

Why do people keep coming to Bombay?

Because there's nothing for them
in the villages where they live.

They come not in search of housing,
but employment.

Can they all make a living here?

Anybody can make a living in Bombay.

If you have energy, and enterprise,
anybody can make a living.

There is this little...
there is this man who just occupies
a little place

on a pavement
outside a big jeweller's shop.

All he's got is a little tin box
in which he has his weapons,
his implements, whatever.

He strings beads and makes earrings.

I go to him every now and then,

and I am amazed how his
paraphernalia is contained

in that little tin box.

He's doing well and sending money
back home to his family.

Every time I see him I feel, "Wow!
That's what Bombay is all about!"

There is opportunity for all
and they will keep coming here.

Could you live anywhere else?

Nowhere else in the world.
Nowhere else.

I bitch, I moan, I grumble.

When I get caught in the traffic
and the pollution, I want to scream.

Yet take me out of Bombay for
ten days and I'm gasping for the
pollution, the traffic and noise!

I say, "Please, I don't want this
sanitised, wonderful, beautiful air,
I just wish to get back to my city!"

CAR HORNS BEEP INCESSANTLY

If Shabbana has a soft spot
for the pollution,
she isn't soft in the head.

Bombay is polluted
because Bombay works.

Even the garbage
is someone's stock in trade.

That trash the poor live in
is picked over for negotiable junk.

Everything organic rots, but
everything inorganic is recycled.

The city is a huge recycling plant.

It folds back into itself,
lives off itself.

The only problem is that
too many people are in on the act.

Not all the new people in Bombay
come from the country.

Weddings are big business,
and marriages produce children.

The ceremonies last two days. When
I wandered into one by accident,
I thought it was a festival.

'A girl told me the groom's party
would think I knew the bride,

'and the bride's party
would think I knew the groom.

'So all I had to do was stay cool -
the hardest thing to do in Bombay.'

The groom arrived, looking stunned.

Many Indian marriages are arranged,
and he looked as though his
had been arranged under anaesthetic.

Luckily, he had a couple
of brothers to hold him up.

WOMEN SING

The groom's party slow-marched
into the pavilion,

where the bride's senior female
relatives waited to check him out.

The bride looked overcome with joy.

The groom looked as if he had
never met her before in his life.

Maybe he was readying himself
for the challenge,

which, for an overwhelming number
of Indian men,

is still to generate
an overwhelming number
of male children.

What's going to happen
to all those children? That was
the question that kept on nagging,

even as I was carried away
by the glittering tinsel,
the generous warmth,

the cheerful determination to take
the visitor by the hand and shake
the last drops of sweat out of him.

VERY FAST MUSIC PLAYS

Even if the people who are getting
richer see the point
of having fewer children,

will the poor ever agree?
All they want is more boys.

Girls are still thought of
as an unfortunate by-product.

Many are "lucky"
to be child prostitutes.

There'll be no weddings
for these young ladies.

A cynic might say prostitution
at least gives them
some kind of home to go to.

Thousands wander the streets
with no-one to look after them,
or nearly no-one.

The city doesn't do anything
but throw the boys in jail
if they're caught stealing.

But there is a Christian mission
that tries to help.

It's called the Pavement Club,
and it's run by Lawrence Hardinge,

known as Mr Lawrence
by the children,

to whom he and his wife spend their
lives giving the ghost of a chance.

The street children can come to
the Pavement Club once a week.

EXCITED CHATTER

Mr Lawrence believes
if he doesn't catch the children
before the age of 12,

they'll be goners.

INAUDIBLE

Unless they can be convinced early
that a clean nose pays,

the boys are headed for a life
of vagrancy, crime and no hope.

As for the girls,
unless they can be talked out of it,

they'll have a brief career
of cashing in on their bodies,

but they won't keep much cash.

Men are ready to protect them
in the worst ways.

Inside the church hall,
the school is run by Mrs Lawrence.

Teaching equipment consists mainly
of a blackboard and a few slates.

Not even the brightest pupils

are going to make up
in a few scattered hours

what the children of the well-off
take years to learn.

The street children
even have to be taught how to play,

in the only fairground

they will ever be able to afford,
because it's free.

Mr Lawrence stages
a compulsory cheering session,

to help them let off steam.

It's a tribute to their energy
that they have any steam to let off.

CHEERING

The climax is the only square meal

most of the children
will eat all week.

Every other day, they'll take
what they can from the bins

outside the restaurants
and tourist hotels.

This is their day off
from real life.

Back outside,
real life starts again.

Around the Gateway of India,

the first thing Western visitors
to Bombay saw when they sailed in,

you see the street children's
real life.

INAUDIBLE

At its best,

it looks wild, free
and kind of cute,

like the life you'd have chosen
if they'd let you out of school.

But what if they'd never let you in?

'Mahindre Shinde is
a street child who made it.

'He works for the Salvation Army,

'and no longer sleeps
on a toilet roof.

'But he's one in 100,

'and the next generation
of young hustlers

'are still pulling the same tricks.'

The water
children sell at Victoria Station...

Is it clean? No, they refill it.

They don't care if
it's washed or not washed.

Bottle from garbage bin.

They fill with the tap-water,

and lid put on, and go near
the train, "Mineral water!"

Didn't the police move you on? Yes.

They treat very badly.
They chase us, they beat us
with sticks, sometimes whips,

they take us to the local jail.

Did you ever go to jail?

I've been seven, eight times.

Five, six hundred children live
there. They're treated very badly.

In jail you get a bed and a meal.
Isn't that paradise?

No, it's like a parrot in the cage!

How did you move up
from a street child

to a man with a good job?

Er...I used to make shoe-shine here.

One Englishman used to come
and I used to shine his shoes.

Not only me,
but other shoe-shine boys also.

He used to give chance to boys
to shine his shoes.

He gave us ten rupees.
That was 10, 12 years ago.

And some of the boys,
he put them in a school,
and some he got them jobs.

The boys you grew up with,
where are they now?

Some are doing well. Some are going
with the drug - most of them died.

Some of my dear friends are dead.

What kind of drugs? You know heroin?
Heroin?! Yeah. Very cheap here.

About 50 rupees a gram.
You can get any corner of Bombay.

You're remarkable, but most street
children haven't got a chance.

They're really looking
for one chance, but...

Maybe one day they will have chance.

If they get chance, they immediately
will change their life, I think.

Mahindre will get ahead
in the new economy.

He's exceptional. The new economy
is for the exceptional.

The stock exchange is jumping
with mathematicians on the make.

For those who can read,
write and do deals,

fortunes are made every day
in Bombay.

Everyone is too busy to figure out
where the unexceptional fit in.

But the old economy is still there,
behind a wall,

and anyone working in it
can only pray that privatisation
won't wipe out his job.

Surely the washing-machines
are on their way.

Until then,
your laundry is still whacked out
in the traditional manner.

I realised why my shirts
came back from the laundry

with that stonewashed look I hadn't
seen since the '60s.

I realised why one of my shirts
hadn't come back at all.

It was still down there, having
the sweat-stains beaten out of it.

Even with a couple of new movies
to watch each week,

being anything except rich
would make life in Bombay
too tough to contemplate

if it wasn't
for the open-air entertainment.

Cricket came to India
as the rich man's game.

But the poor
couldn't be kept off the grass.

At Azad Park on Sunday, there are a
dozen matches going on at all times.

It isn't uncommon
for a fielder to be participating
in two matches at once.

Anyone is allowed to play.

They assumed from my lithe physique
that I was an Australian
fast bowler,

and I didn't disappoint them.

After touching up the ball with a
nutmeg grater, I bowled a screamer.

Instead of hitting a six, he was
caught for a duck by silly mid-off

two matches to the south.

One of the nicest things
about Bombay

is that you needn't be loaded
to enjoy a day out.

While rich playboys roam the globe,
crashing their power boats
and their private jets,

everybody else goes down
to Chowpatty Beach.

FAST DRUMBEATS, TINKLING BELLS

WHIP CRACKS

It might not be a lot, but it beats
the average daytime TV talk show.

Shutting yourself away is unusual
enough to rank as a special event.

The general opinion in Bombay
is that everyone's in it together.

No-one can expect to be alone
without being looked at.

'Religion
is a form of entertainment, too.

'Indian religions put on a show
anyone can enjoy.

'The ashram is a combination
of music hall, holiday home, animal
house, wax museum and carnival.

'A guru expounding fine points
of the ancient teachings

'might add an element
of the lecture hall,

'but otherwise the general effect
of a good day out is hard to beat.

'The friendly decor
encourages exploration.

'The swami in charge asked me
whether I was a man of faith.

'I told him I was Church of England,
and he said, "Never mind,"

'but that I should expect
a heart attack in 1996.

'Then he took me around
to tell me which god was which.

'Some looked frightening, but not
in a way to disturb your sleep.

'It was a sort of Disneyland
diorama, without all that tediously
convincing laser technology.

'As if I wasn't sweating enough,
they started lighting fires.'

BELLS TINKLE

Most priests are men, because they
have to do a lot of profound stuff.

But women are allowed
to ring the bells.

There was something for everybody.

The feel-good factor was a bit
subdued, but so was the fanaticism.

Apart from the occasional riot,

in which Hindus and Muslims
slay each other by the hundred,

Bombay has good religious
co-existence.

There are no oppressed minorities,

just a deprived majority -
the poor.

I didn't see them,

but I was assured they'd be
allowed in if they turned up.

Religion helps them to transcend
the need for material goods.

I have always found that the need
for material goods

is easier to transcend
after you've got some,

but maybe I've failed
to open my mind to the East.

Meanwhile, Bombay is still
opening its mind to the West.

Pierre Cardin unwrapped
his first collection aimed at India.

'Despite the heat,
I felt bound to put on a suit.

'I had been warned
that everyone would be dressing up,

'and indeed they had.

'The women
didn't have to dress up much,

'because Indian women
wear saris all day.

'They always look wonderful.

'A fine sari arrived
draped on the fair form of India's
leading popular novelist, Shobha De.

'Her outfit seemed unbeatable to me,

'and I wondered what Pierre
could pit against it.'

POP MUSIC PLAYS

The answer was...hula-hoops.

I'm old enough to have participated
in the hula-hoop craze,

and often wondered
what happened to them all.

Here was the answer -
they all ended up in Paris.

Pierre turned the hula-hoops
into snappy little export numbers

for well-off Indian women
who weren't having enough trouble

climbing into
chauffeured limousines.

INAUDIBLE

Pierre had also designed
some outfits for Indian men

to express themselves in

when their wives came home
wearing hula-hoops.

I felt the audience had trouble
stifling its scepticism.

But the Bombay socialites
are very polite people.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Mr Pierre Cardin!

When Pierre appeared to take a bow,

they showed respect
for his advanced years,

instead of wrestling him
to the floor

and beating
an explanation out of him

for why he thought hula-hoops
could improve on a sari.

I found it harder
to forgive him,

but I got one thing
from the evening - I met Shobha De.

There's a trickle-down effect
in Bombay.

Whatever happens here happens to
the rest of India five years later.

And it's the place which respects...
worships...success,

and by success I mean money,
specifically.

Bombay is a city that doesn't...

It doesn't matter which class,
which caste you belong to.

People in the rest of India
are obsessed by things like that.

This is a city where you make it -
it isn't a place for losers at all.

Is everyone going to get rich?

I hope it happens,

but what does happen is that Bombay
is seen like a big, juicy mango.

People want to squeeze it
for all it's worth.

So you have this influx
of people here,

because this is where
they want to make it.

Nowhere else in India has
the same magic, the same glamour.

If you make it in Bombay,
you've made it in the rest of India.

I passed some poor people outside
your door, as you must every day.

How do you cope with that?

It's a tough question.

I really don't know how
to answer that without sounding
very insensitive or...or deadened.

When you've encountered poverty
every day since you were born,

it sounds horrible,
but it...anaesthetises you.

Is that the right way
to pronounce it? Yes.

You stop noticing it,
you stop reacting to it.

It makes you feel terrible, but you
can't be on a permanent guilt trip.

You do what you can.

You don't have to talk
about what you do for the poor -

that's crass and vulgar -

but you can't do
a self-flagellation trip every day.

You learn to live
with it eventually.

Tell me about the movie industry.

I know Hindi movies
are fantastically popular.

I've seen a few myself.

But I have quite a lot of trouble
understanding the rules.

The lovers aren't allowed to kiss
or touch, is that right?

Yes, but they can rape one another.

And the girls are on top now.
That's OK.

Roughing each other up is OK,

very, very rude comments about each
other's bodies, that's all right,

but the minute it comes to kissing,

then you cut to a bush
that's shaking violently,

or flames of passion somewhere
in the distance,

or you have two little birds kissing
in the bushes, or butterflies.

I guess kissing is really not seen
as part of Indian culture.

We have a great erotic tradition in
literature, poetry and sculpture,

but the Moghuls came along
and killed our libido.

Then came the British for 400 years,
with their Victorian mores... Ah!

And they did a very effective job
of wiping out all that heritage.

So it's our fault? Absolutely!

'Shobha De had convinced me of what
I had suspected for some time.

'In Bombay, anyone can do anything,

'if they can just get
a leg-up first.'

OK, let's go.

'Anyone can become a taxi-driver

'as long as he can find a taxi
that works.

'Even if it doesn't,
he can pretend that it does.

'I had got used by now to how the
same taxi-driver kept turning up.

'He was following me around, pushing
his taxi as fast as I could walk.

'I respected his determination not
to be defeated by lack of equipment.

'I'd wanted to be an actor, but was
unfairly stopped by lack of talent.

'Bollywood movies
could be my way in,

'so I went downtown to the Bombay
equivalent of central casting.

'Initially, I had my usual trouble
finding the address
in the back alleys.'

OK.

CHILDREN YELL

'But, again as usual, a few hundred
small boys quickly gathered to help.

'One of the boys

'helped himself to my watch,
and I didn't notice until later.

'Well, it was only a 24-carat gold
limited-edition Cartier original.

'I thought the guy on the door
was the casting master, but he
was only the guy on the door.

'The casting master
was working the phones.

'The temperature rose as I climbed.

'By the time I got up there,
I had worked out an opening line
to impress him.'

He wants to meet you.

Have you met
Sir Richard Attenborough? Yeah.

Yeah? I have done a lot of work.

You know film, Gandhi? Gandhi? Yeah.
Here for 35 days shooting, and...

'He made it clear that,
without his assistance,

'Sir Richard would have had to film
Gandhi's funeral scene

'with six men and a pariah dog.'

3,000, 6,000, every day! Uh-huh?

All the actors were working?
All the actors were busy!

'Subtly, I got him to the point.'

Are you casting for that film
with Madhuri in it?

Is there any chance I could
get a part in that? YOU?! Yes.

Some romantic part? No?

'I wondered if
I was getting through,

'but finally he told me
to go downstairs

'and wait with everybody else.

'I went down
into the comparative cool,

'where extras and bit players
sit waiting.

'Some of them have to wait
a long time.

'Some of them strike up
lasting friendships.

'Some of them haven't worked since
Gandhi - the man, not the movie.

'An hour went by that felt like
year in a sauna,

'but finally
the lucky names were read out.'

Hello. Just listen to me!

The following persons have to reach
Film City by morning,
9.00am, with suit.

READS A LIST OF INDIAN NAMES

..and Clive James.

'Bombay actors are very generous,

'and none of them
physically attacked me

'for winning a part they would have
given back the eye-teeth for

'that they got from
the pavement dentist.

'They said various short Hindi words
which I presumed meant good luck.'

With my precious work chitty
in my sweat-soaked pocket,

I went back out to Film City
in the familiar limousine.

They were still making
Madhuri's movie. The extras
were breaking for breakfast.

'Inside the soluble castle,

'the famous fight arranger
and stunt director, Ravi Dewan,

'was setting up
for a big fight scene.

'Ravi was a busy man,

'but he agreed to fill me in
on the Bollywood movie business.

'In another part of the castle,

'it was quiet enough to talk about
the downside of his profession.'

Is it dangerous? Very dangerous,
because we don't have safety
like Hollywood people have.

We don't have enough money
to take time and energy and...

And we don't have airbags here to
jump, or fire-fighting equipment.

You jump without airbags?! We jump
without airbags. We put some boxes.

Did you ever get hurt? Yes, I broke
glass. We don't have sugar glass.

You jump through real glass?!

Yes. You do? You can see the marks
and scars here. Show me! Here.

Through a real window?! Yes.
On my knees...

Do they pay extra for that?
Yes. But not worth.

Is my sequence important?

Very important. It's a small
sequence, but important.

Do I get a costume? Yes, I've got
one which should fit you. Costume!

'The word was out that a new acting
sensation had been discovered.

'The transformation was dramatic.'

SEVERAL PEOPLE YELL AT ONCE

'I was disappointed to discover
that Madhuri hadn't yet arrived.

'What about our love scene?

'It turned out
I was going to be in a fight scene

'with two heavies who handled
their weapons as if born with them.'

Come, Clive, are you ready?
Yeah, I guess so.

You rehearse with them once,
then we'll shoot. OK. Slowly? Yes.

'I put in a request to rehearse
as thoroughly as possible.

'It wasn't that I lacked agility,
and no-one has ever questioned
my physical bravery.

'I was only afraid of getting cut by
the sharp thing the guy was holding.

'Having taken heed of Ravi's warning
that Indian stuntmen
actually ARE defying death,

'I tried hard to remember
what I was told.

'But remembering isn't easy
when you're up against a medieval
warrior in dark glasses.'

..And pull you back. React to this.

That's good. That good? Yeah. OK.

HE GRUNTS

While my rehearsal continued,

the male lead, none other than
the famous Anil Kapoor,

was setting up for a less crucial
scene in another part of the castle.

SEVERAL PEOPLE SHOUT INSTRUCTIONS

He was facing the problem
of keeping his hairstyle intact

under growing pressure
from the plot.

'My rehearsal
was starting to speed up.

'Gasps from other fighters

'showed their awareness
that their jobs were under threat
from a prodigious new talent.

Anil's hairstyle
was under threat from his disguise.

How to make the most
of his hairstyle AND the disguise
was the problem.

Is this the real one? Yeah.
Ready! Are you ready?

Action!

'Finally, my fight scene was ready
for a take. The camera rolled,

'and I died a death marked by that
understated authenticity

'otherwise so lacking
in Bollywood movies.'

Cut it!

'The other actors
feared I was really dead.'

Clive, OK, get up!

How was that? OK. Good.

You don't think it was too hammy
towards the end? No, no, no.

Was that a take? Yeah.

Thanks. Thank you.

Thank you. A worthy opponent!

'Ravi said
he had never seen anything like it.'

I got a lot of offers
to star in Bollywood movies,
but I had to say no.

After two weeks
of Bombay's trickle-down effect,

my shoes had filled with sweat so
often, the soles were peeling off,

and I didn't have a shirt left
that hadn't been smacked to a rag.

Also, I had a twinge of toothache
in an upper molar

and, although there was
a skilled local dentist,

I preferred
to have it seen to somewhere else.

It was time to say goodbye
and good luck.

I don't know
whether Bombay will make it as
a prosperous Western-style society

with fair shares for all.

I don't even know
whether we've made it.

When Gandhi was asked what
he thought of Western civilisation,

he said he thought
it would be a good idea.

How much graceful poverty
do we have, amongst all
our graceless wealth?

But the days are gone when we could
come sailing in from the West,

look at the picturesque inhabitants
and say, "Stay as sweet as you are."

They've had enough
of being patted on the head.

They want what we've got.
It's their turn.
It couldn't happen to nicer people.

They might even manage
to stay nice when it does.