I must admit my last blog about India sounded as if I’d soured a wonderful chapter in my life, and I would like to take time to remember My Mumbai in detail. The whole of India, as I love her, and as she loved me.

Parked in the shade on our way around the south

Louda, my bike, rode me around the South and up to Mumbai. I came with Laura – who was the bike’s namesake, when mispronounced with an Indian percussive Laura’s ‘r’ that sounds like a ‘d’ turned it into the Hindi word for cock. Laura had asked me to name the bike after her – a fair trade because it was bought on money from her in exchange for a laptop which she did not yet posess. So Louda she was.

I bought her in Kodaikanal, way up in the gorgeous mountains on the Tamil side of Kerala. For those to whom that means nothing, the Southern are often darker, slower to anger, and have a far more percussive popping b’s or t’s to p’s. It’s a very amusing language to listen to. The Southerners are also often more casually academic, and quite agricultural. The Keralan backwaters are gorgeous.

My housemate Hari is a Malayalee (one of the Southern folk). He’s incredibly kind, one of the kindest and most peaceful people I’ve ever known. He has an engaging way of telling stories, and always has exciting tales about disciplining policemen and staring down stand-over men.

He’s also generous – before we lived together, he called to ask how I was going. I complained that I had no work (I was an actor, he is a cinematographer). Within ten minutes, a friend of his called to offer me a role dancing in a music video. I apologised and told him that I can’t dance. He hung up. Hari must have called him again, because a further ten minutes later the director called back and told me that I had the role anyway. It ended up being quite a funny video.

People worship Hari like a god – literally. Much like when politicians or religious figures greet and farewell folk, I have stood with him after a shoot, while a queue of people waited their turn to touch his feet.

Getting around Mumbai is always an experience – traveling any mode across the city will almost always include a ‘Oh my. Bloody… Shit! LOOK!’ moment. I will not dwell on the early morning train track-side pooing hour, though those are memorable, but also deluges of incredible kindness. How so many people with limited ability and maximum effort would try to ‘fix’ my bike – even without knowing what was actually wrong with it.

Louda – after pimping, on a ride around Mumbai.

Indian people, my Mumbaikars, are all about relationships.

Indian people will welcome you into their homes, many visitor to India has been treated to tea and dinner by an entire family of strangers. They are eager to welcome new family members, too. Simply because you’re visibly foreign, they will ask you increasingly personal questions while still shaking your hand, once I had a conversation that started with a request for directions and continued until the chap had learned my full name, place of birth, number of family members, marital status and enquired about my sexual habits, still holding my hand long after the shaking had finished, for a full ten minutes. It’s not nosy, it’s caring, curious and keen to build friendships. By the end – I was his ‘bhai’ – his brother. Younger kids call me ‘ankal’ – or uncle.

On Raksha Bandan day, one will find the pretty waterfronts of Mumbai spotted with groups of larrikin young men, they’re sneakily skipping their classes at university or aren’t turning up to work. They are, for today, uncharacteristically avoiding female contact, where the reclaimed land meets the sea, where large, purposefully placed jagged boulders hold back the muddy waves.

They hide because on Raksha Bandan, girls can claim boys as ‘brothers’ which is a more formal, or at least religiously meaningful way of becoming family. She claims him, to be protected and cared for by him, and to be protected from him, because once she’s tied that red thread around his wrist, she is out of bounds. She’s his sister.

Hari and my brother Thos, coloured on Holi festival - he's now a Bollywood star too!

The horny boys will stand and laugh, argue and chase one another around and slap each other on the back with cupped palm for maximum pop and minimum pain.

They will have tender moments, too – boys will walk hand in hand down the sunny Bandra boardwalk, or even rest their head on a mate’s shoulder when tired. It’s not all gay, but I’m sure that beneath the restrictive ridiculousness of the rules and religions, Indians are very sexually permissive.

Mumbaikars will welcome you to them, to become like them, because connection matters most. Yes, there is a downside – that strong familial preference means that those perceived as ‘other’ are easily cheated, targeted and vilified. The group conscience seems to dictate it.

I don’t complain, as a Caucasian, Australian male I was treated very well. But as you slide down, away from the wealthy families, down the caste ladder, religious divides, and the regionalist grudges, you will pass people who live unenviable lives.

Westerners talk about how ‘time is money’, ‘life is short’ and ‘it’s a dog eat dog world.’ They use these clichés to excuse themselves for being rude and self-absorbed. “I’m stressed” they cry, as they pride themselves on being independent, efficient and successful.

Not efficient, no. He'd rather smile and chat than deal with the 8ft high stacks of paper behind him.

Indians pride themselves on being caring, thoughtful and respected. They’d walk for hours out of their way to show you how to arrive somewhere you already knew how to get to, even if it meant turning up late to work. If mother is sick, they might not turn up at all.

Sure, there is a growing desire among the middle class to be more western, to consume more fancy phones and fast foods and speak English and strive harder; working longer hours, turning up on time and leaving late – meeting targets and achieving goals. But they must battle against a system full of people who’d prefer to have a chat or take a nap if it meant having a more relaxing day. Contentment is a reasonable goal for an Indian.

Sure, that is lazy, but it’s good. It’s important.

We are overpopulating the world, and India’s leading the way, but the Indian mentality of family supports a vast number of people on very little. It is efficient at using fewer resources to sustain an more people.

We must learn that.

And you cannot save time – time is not money. Whatever you’re doing right now is all that is happening, you couldn’t have spent this time differently. The frantic ferocity of that thinking causes unnecessary stress. Relax.

Instead we must learn to value our time.

Technorati Tags: Bollywood, India, People

My problem with life in India is that it’s simultaneously too hard and too easy. The easy bits are getting main roles in films, getting into A-list parties, and staying out of jail for drunken, unlicensed, uninsured, helmet-less motorbike riding only costs about 6 Aussie dollars. But the stress and frustration associated with something simple like buying coffee or getting dressed can cause me to vibrate and clench until I pop a valve.

I just went looking for Sony Pix to do an audition. I plugged “Sony Pix Mumbai” into Google maps and got a hit:

So I rode to the designated dot with the help of my occasionally awesome but frequently annoying GPS guided phone, to find the dot was on a big pile of crappy nothingness.

I checked the map again and again, and came to the reluctant conclusion that someone had actually bothered to go to Google Maps to place a marker, but had not bothered putting it in the right place.

I rack my brains every time this happens, trying to deduce the mentality that leads someone to make such an effort with a result that is worse than had they just done nothing (I fixed it).

On my way home, I stopped for coffee at Baristas. I pulled my bike up to the curb, kicked out the side-stand, switched it off, got off, pulled my helmet off and when I started walking away the security guard, who’d been sitting there watching me the whole time said: “You can’t park here”

Surely my intent to park the was apparent from the moment I pulled up, or perhaps more obvious when I kicked out the stand and leaned the bike over, but definitely when I turned off the engine, and I absolutely don’t plan on re-parking it anywhere after I’ve stood up and got off – but no. He waited until I’ve removed my helmet and started to walk off before he said something. Exactly the same thing happened only yesterday – it happens so often. I try to laugh it off but often fail and sound like a manic pirate: “Haha-har-harrr-arrgh!”

Pull this handle.

I think one explanation for the general theme of this directionless drive to do could be the notion of ‘dharma’ – which is your life’s purpose, doing what you’re meant to do. Dharma doesn’t care how efficiently you do something, it relates more to being in a continual state of doing whatever it is you were born to do, as well as you were destined to, until you die. Getting stuff done early doesn’t mean there’s any less stuff to do. If you did do it, then you’ll reincarnate into an even cooler caste with yet another dharma. There’s no escaping it, life after life, and aspiring to escape your destiny within this life is almost disrespectful.

Sure, people break free from the restraints of caste and rise to dizzying heights like the Ambanis, but it is much more common to go down the caste system than up. Climbing takes hard will, courage and lots of luck. Falling is as easy as having cow blood thrown on you, marrying wrong, getting raped or even divorced. In short, acting out of turn is more likely to send you down the ladder than up. In India, innovation is infrequently encouraged.

Pull the other one!

So I went in to buy my coffee and noticed that the glass door has a “Pull” sticker on the outside of the door, and another “Pull” sticker inside – but it’s a swinging door and can go either way, and anyway, neither side has a handle, so in effect neither can be pulled, nor need they be.

Maybe he could have put a push sticker on both sides, it’d easier to do with a coffee in your hand, but why did he bother at all?

Because that was his job. The fact that this swinging door doesn’t need stickers doesn’t change the fact that his purpose in life includes adding stickers to doors.

I was shooting a TV commercial recently, and the costume guys always love to help me get dressed. I assure them that putting on clothes is something I can and do do frequently without them,  but they are determined to help; even if that help consists of them holding my fingers and causing me to fumble as I thread my belt through the loops in my pants, all the while saying:

“It’s fine. No really, I’ve got this. Please, let go. You aren’t helping. You’re actually making it harder”.

But the costume wallah has a purpose. Part of what makes dharma a righteous path is the fact that sometimes it’s a challenge. Many obstacles will pop up to deter you from your purpose, but if you’re born into a job (as castes often are – and named so – Mr. Sodabottleopenerwalla) then you’d bloody well better do it, regardless of how pointlessly irritating it might be.

It must be noted that the excessive amounts of wasted effort do seem to keep everyone rather busy, doing and undone-ing things that took a lot of doing and didn’t need getting done in the first place. It’s a wonderful system that seems to support an unimaginable number of people.

Many Kakapo birds only gets laid once, AND THAT'S WHEN THEY'RE AN EGG! - Zing.

It’s ecological. If one billion people suddenly became efficient, if they only did things that needed doing, and did them right the first time, then I recon an overwhelming number of lovely Indian people would quickly find themselves unemployed and starving to death.

The Socialist Party of India recognized this, and rather brilliantly suggested that India ban English in schools, computers in offices and all farm machinery, which would send it back into the dark ages.

Inefficiency and absurdity might be an evolutionary result of overpopulation, much like how New Zealand’s Kakapo bird, which has evolved in an environment devoid of predators, has dealt with overpopulation by becoming fat, flightless, and amazingly inefficient at mating. Those factors are now sending it close to extinction, a fate unlikely to face Indians anytime soon.

*I must note that my observations are the subject of personal opinion, and in this are predominantly about traditional Indian culture – and are not at all about Indians in any kind of intrinsic, genetic sense. I am also not making a negative value judgment about it. Yes, it annoys me, but that doesn’t make it bad, it just means that I don’t get it. I hope you’re only mildly offended.

Technorati Tags: Bollywood, hinduism, India, People, politics, rationality, religion

"A burning bus? Perhaps over there."

There exists in Mumbai a nearsighted and rather unpleasant bunch of radicals who revile my very existence within their beautiful city. They want foreign actors out of Bollywood (that’s me).

They are the Shiv Sena – Lord Shiva’s Army  and the MNS – political groups by name, violently quarrelsome by nature.

It behooves a writer to remain apprised of the legal ramifications of writing anything at all in India, because sedition laws are arbitrarily enforced and rather ambiguously defined as anything that “excites or attempts to excite hatred contempt or dissaffection“( - Wikipedia)

If anyone reading this gets excited or feels a smidge of contempt, then I’m going to jail for life – so please don’t. Sedition, in my opinion, is the most dangerous law in India – for exposure of real wrongs often leads detention or expulsion, as was the case with my friend who wrote of the Dalit murders in Gujarat and was summarily deported.

Let’s be mindful of that and carry on…

Bal Thackeray started the Shiv Sena and ran for a while a respectable right-wing, religious political party concerned with supporting the local Marathi people in whose state Mumbai stands. He was about ensuring jobs, health systems, pensions and education exclusively to Marathis, his ‘Sons of the Soil’.

They have a hard-line Hindu and regional agenda, and dislike all things non-Marathi – including shop signs spelled in English.

The Shiv Sena love whacking day

Bal’s son Uddhav Thackeray took over the Shiv Sena which used to riot against migrant workers from other states, bash North Indian rickshaw drivers and the like, pelt stones at police headquarters, voice support for accused Hindu terrorists, they’ve smashed shops and torn down billboards and generally caused a ruckus in order to get in the media, at which point they invariably react against the channel for the negative coverage. It’s a wonderful self-perpetuating cycle.

The Shiv Sena started going mainstream to gain support from a larger nationwide Hindu party, the BJP – which meant they had to stop bashing migrants (but not necessarily Muslisms). As a result, Bal’s nephew Raj Thackeray started a splinter organisation seeking more radical reforms – they are called the ‘Marathi Manoos’ – the MNS.

So now there are two crews both seeking votes from the same people, they attract attention to themselves by engaging in more and more brazen public displays of brute power – often leading to in-fighting between the two groups.

The BJP: Perhaps education should be higher on their agenda

Then the BJP lost a national election, probably because they were corrupt and their policies were near-sighted and focused more on oppressing Muslims than running the country…

So the BJP and the Shiv Sena rioted against Australians for being such prejudiced and bigoted violent morons. They were helped along by the Indian media, which much prefers to be spoon-fed its sensationalist propaganda rather than doing real reporting (probably for fear of sedition laws).

Funny thing that only a few months before, the same group were beating North Indians for migrating to Mumbai, and now they’re upset because North Indians are being beaten in Australia. The group that revile outsiders and assault newcomers are also angry when degenerate, disorganised, drunk youths in Australia do exactly the same thing. Are they scared their jobs have been outsourced?

Now they’re back to being racist: The Manoos want all us foreign actors out of Bollywood – get this: Because we’re stealing Indian jobs. I have not yet met an Indian that can do my job, because my job is to be not Indian. I’m not a particularly exceptional actor, I’m not wildly attractive, I’m not even that skilled, I don’t dance or sing. I’m a single-threat: I’m just white. Who’s job do I steal?

Make up your minds, which do you despise: Racism or foreigners?

Their current claim is against Hazel Crowney because they claim she’s dancing in a provocative way that Indian girls wouldn’t, and tugging at the threads of Indian moral fibre. It’s clear that they know this already, but you might not: Indian movies don’t show sexy white girls flouncing about because Indian girls won’t do it, they show foreigners because that’s what Indians like to watch. The women watch it and think: “Ugh, sluts” and the men pitch pants tents – behaviour neither gender like to associate with good Indian girls.

Indian girls will do a multitude of things to get their beautiful, sensual bodies onto the big screen – and dancing provocatively definitely comes under that broad and intentionally ambiguous banner. Rakhi Sawant started the protest, but clearly her interests aren’t value-based:

Hazel Crowney: They're calling for her head

Rakhi Sawant: Principled instigator

Tell me again – which Indian values were they protecting?

The Shiv Sena recently charged onto the set of a shoot for the film ‘Crooked’, and demanded to see employment visas from the 136 foreigners on the shoot. I know every Bollywood Gora that has a visa – and there ain’t 136 of us. Bollywood runs on making its scenes exotic and foreign with cheap tourist labour extras. It can’t run without them.

These riots will serve to send more films overseas to shoot to avoid them, taking money right out of the pockets of all Mumbaikars who drive and light and serve chai and food to those who paint sets and clothe Bollywood. Their campaign would be short-sighted and flawed, if it were legitimately aimed at improving the lives of Marathis – but it isn’t, it’s aimed at getting publicity – and it’s working.

I love this country – but sometimes it gives me the shits (pun intended).

Perhaps it is me.

Perhaps my desire to become a part of the Indian fabric is mislaid. I had always seen India’s best values were the welcoming and inclusive nature of the people, how peaceful they are. I’d always felt that the laid-back, near-enough’s good enough, slow life seemed more ecological than ours – far more interested in things like a good laugh, an engaging (and intrusive) conversation or even silent company. They’ll stare, they’ll care, they’ll help even if they can’t.

This country holds the greatest potential of all on this earth. With some tweaks to turn the knowledge based education system to teach skills, a good corruption enema and a bit of cultural progression (in terms of womens rights and that stuff) – it will be the next superpower. Indians almost always speak more languages than you do, speak English better than you do, they wrap their agile brains around new languages, new concepts and new ideas with envy-inspiring speed, they have open hearts and kind minds, and there are a billion of them.

That was what I thought India was about, generosity, hospitality and intelligence – but apparently these guys are the last word on what’s Indian and according to them it’s all about the violence, stupidity and racism.

Perhaps it’s time for me to move on.

Technorati Tags: Bollywood, foreign, hindu, India, maharashtra navnirman sena, mns, politics, racism, religion, shiv sena, thackeray, white actors

I went and saw:

Ahh, Dharma productions – good on you! You made a film about a billion times better than ‘From Paris with Love’ – SHAME ON YOU TRAVOLTA! Naughty mega-star!

After Dostana (which I appeared in, briefly) I was wondering whether Karan Johar was ‘tackling the issue’ of homosexuality and its perception in India, or if he was just cashing in on it for cheap laughs. That fear subsided when I went to see My Name is Khan and was pleased to see a balanced and important representation of Islam and autism.

It’s pretty brave to tackle two issues at once, because it requires delicacy to describe which of the character’s behaviours belong to which issue. It is so easy to turn either into a caricature, as is often done with Tourette’s syndrome. Karan Johar and Shah Rukh Khan have done a masterful job into depicting an accurate and insightful representation of both, and I commend them for that.

SRK plays Rizwan Khan (Khan – ‘KH’ – from the epiglottis), who is the autistic son of a Muslim single mother. He grows up in India experiencing the difficulty of being an outcast, but eventually rises above the challenges of his condition and moves to America to become a traveling beauty product salesman. That’s where he meets Mandira (played by Kajol). Obviously, they fall in love but their love is torn asunder by radical American anti-Islamic sentiment (you’ll hear my voice saying ‘Get out of my country’ at one point – I did some background dubbing). Anyway, let’s get to my point.

Karan Johar, Shah Rukh, Kajol and Tarun Mansukhani (who directed Dostana and plays a store owner at the end of his tether) are all incredibly brave for even attempting to represent Islam. In India, radical power hungry clerics, politicians like Bal/Uddhav/Raj Thackery are almost always going to kick up a stink about any issue.

Be it the dangerous and divisive Shiv Sena getting angry that Islam is being shown as peace-loving; be it Islamic groups complaining about being depicted as warlike or disabled; or be it politicians using India’s terrible sedition laws to stifle freedom of expression claiming that the film shows India in a poor light; someone is sure to complain.

The Shiv Sena did threaten to riot and called for a boycott against the opening of the film, partly because they are Hindu extremists opposed to a film about Islam, and partly because the lead actor SRK said he though Pakistani players should be allowed to play cricket in India. If you ask me, they did it to stay in the headlines.

Shiv Sena Rioting against the release of MNiK

Religion in India is a serious issue, for many people it’s more important to them than family (we see hints of this in the film when Muslim Khan marries Hindu Mandira), for some it’s more important than their own life. It’s a scary thought – but it speaks to the emotional and dedicated nature of Indian people. I just hope for a day soon when Indian people will direct their love and dedication towards more positive means, because I see religion as a divisive force. It brings fear, feelings of powerlessness, hurt, pain and violence to everyone – theists and atheists alike.

Religions almost entirely full of wonderful, caring people who want to express their love through acts of kindness like Rizwan, who goes to the aid of poor black Christians stranded by a hurricane in Georgia. They are grateful and humble and want to dedicate their existence to something else – they are selfless.

But, there are always a few people who use the power of belief to support their own ends, and they always do it with violence and division. This character is played in MNiK by a extremist Muslim doctor who preaches violence, but they are ones in every religion. Religion offers power over the masses, and stunted by their inability to reason against doctrine, that control entices dangerous false prophets.

Atheists are almost impossible to herd in the same manner, because we are like cats: Fickle with our affection for authority, but (hopefully) tenacious in our hunger for truth and universal ethics. In Scandinavia, it’s easy to be Atheist, almost everyone else is. India is another matter.

I was massively impressed by Tarun Mansukhani when I recently saw him tweet: “I am an atheist. I don’t believe in god. I believe that I am answerable to my family and to my friends… Right here. Right now.” – because he is an Indian, living in India (the most religious country in the world) working in an industry that invites attention from all areas. He really is at the forefront of a change that will make India even greater, with acceptance of all, regardless of sexuality, devoid of division.

Dharma has released a tastefully made film that is worthy of International audiences. With the exception of its length (I still think Indian films are too long) and a tiny quirk of editing that occurs around a twist near the end of the film (no spoilers here), the whole film was a joy to watch. The computer effects were subtle, the performances memorable, and the point unmistakeable.

We are all people. Hum hai insaan. Bharat mahan hai.

India is great – Indian people are warm, generous and they are fantastic hosts. I wish my Australian countrymen would start to show them the same hospitality, perhaps we could learn to treat our guests like gods, as Mamooty said to me in Pazhassi Raja: “Atithi Devo Bhavah“

Technorati Tags: Bollywood, India