Things Umrao Jaan Forgot to Tell You

Here are my observations as part of the media mob at IIFA Amsterdam last weekend. I joined BollyWHAT in March as a newbie fan. In real life I am a journalist from Germany, working freelance as a documentary filmmaker and sometimes scriptwriter, mostly for a nationwide public TV channel. The growing popularity of Bollywood in my country gave me the idea to do some research for a TV documentary about the influence of Indian films (and music) in Europe, but also the influence of Western films in Hindi cinema - I would like do use BW films as an example for cultural globalisation. Sounds pretty academic, but I hope to find stories and examples to illustrate the idea. - Ele

12.06.05, 15:45

Nothing will happen between now and the show tonight. Workwise the day was not quite a waste, but still - I wonder if I ever will be able to find any kind of research foothold on the solid rock of Hindi cinema industry. There may be ways around it, but not into it, it‘s a closed community. I thought some articles unnecessarily stereotypical, but it really is like this: The senior Kapoors are sitting in the Grand Hotel lobby at a table with Yash Chopra and other bigshots whose names I don‘t know. Ek bara parivar.

When Mr. Chopra walked my way and I wanted to ask him a question, he just said "I don‘t have time, talk to me later" and disappeared. Five minutes later he sat at the Kapoors' table again and had a chai and a chat. They are really having a family function here, and outsiders (like press, let alone fans) are just a bit of a nuisance.

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Here are my observations as part of the media mob at IIFA Amsterdam last weekend. I joined BollyWHAT in March as a newbie fan. In real life I am a journalist from Germany, working freelance as a documentary filmmaker and sometimes scriptwriter, mostly for a nationwide public TV channel. The growing popularity of Bollywood in my country gave me the idea to do some research for a TV documentary about the influence of Indian films (and music) in Europe, but also the influence of Western films in Hindi cinema - I would like do use BW films as an example for cultural globalisation. Sounds pretty academic, but I hope to find stories and examples to illustrate the idea. - Ele

11.06.2005, 00:15 a.m.

This day was exciting, but also rather frustrating.

A media briefing of "DUS" was scheduled for 11:00 a.m. - "with Director Anubhav Sinha, Producer Nitin Manmohan and the actors Abishek Bachchan, Zayed Khan and Dia Mirza." It started half an hour late and Abishek Bachchan never turned up. The briefing consisted of: showing of promo trailers (all fireworks and action stunts); the producer praising his crew; Dia Mirza smiling wordlessly into the cameras and Zayed Khan praising the producer. The question round was cut very short, because of the next event: "12:00 Pathé Tuschinski - Inauguration of the IIFA Film Festival by the Indian Ambassador to the Netherlands and Mr. Yash Chopra" (the first film of the festival was Veer-Zaara), plus "the leading film stars Rani Mukherjee and Sharukh Khan."

I would have liked to talk with Nitin Manmohan, but he disappeared too quickly for me to follow. So I went to the Pathé Tuschinski cinema and waited, together with some Dutch and British photographers and a few TV teams. At 12:30 Yash Chopra appeared, gave one TV interview and left. No "leading film star" turned up for the inauguration. Later I found out that some Indian journalists had known this beforehand, but obviously nobody deemed it necessary to tell the international press about it. That kind of disorganisation slowly started to annoy me.

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Here are my observations as part of the media mob at IIFA Amsterdam last weekend. I joined BollyWHAT in March as a newbie fan. In real life I am a journalist from Germany, working freelance as a documentary filmmaker and sometimes scriptwriter, mostly for a nationwide public TV channel. The growing popularity of Bollywood in my country gave me the idea to do some research for a TV documentary about the influence of Indian films (and music) in Europe, but also the influence of Western films in Hindi cinema - I would like do use BW films as an example for cultural globalisation. Sounds pretty academic, but I hope to find stories and examples to illustrate the idea. - Ele

09.05.2005 (Train from Cologne to Amsterdam)

This train is full of busy people - the rustling of laptop keyboards is the dominant sound in the wagon, so mine is blending right in. I boarded at Cologne and was already happy to see a few Indian faces between the cheese-coloured European ones I am used to. I wonder how many Indians and how many Dutch and German people will be at the events in Amsterdam.

I am going there as a journalist, not ‘just’ a fan. I am researching the impact of Hindi Cinema on Europe and the influence the West has on Indian films. How is cultural globalisation happening, how much interaction is developing, and how does the Indian film industry present itself in Amsterdam? I am going there to learn, to observe and hopefully to get some contacts – I mainly hope to meet some directors and producers, not actors. But my attempt at a purely professional approach suffered badly during the last days. All the news about the IIFA weekend I found on the internet were so exciting, I can‘t quite believe I am going there...barely slept at all last night.

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I guarantee I will have the largest suitcase of anyone who arrives in Delhi for the language program. I also guarantee that I will know a moment of utter shame as I look around at all the cheerful, strapping flaneurs with backpacks insouciantly slung across their shoulders. After all, my suitcase -- your typical hard-shell Samsonite on wheels -- is more commonly favored by blue-haired seventy year olds, the sorts who arrive at airports worldwide, retrieve said Samsonites, and promptly board air-conditioned buses bound for the nearest five-star.

Yeah, the Samsonite kinda lacks in hipster cred.

I did do the backpacking thing once. I was on a solo tour of Spain. If toting a large suitcase amidst a flock of backpacking hipsters inspires self-consciousness, try disembarking from a European train with a backpack perched on your shoulders. Instantly you are pigeonholed as a guileless gap-year vagabond, prey for the skeeziest touts on the platform. At least the Samsonite draws a classier group of predators.

Fanbases aside, Samsonites also stay comfortably ground-bound. My vertebrae appeciate this. They still recall the ill-advised moment on the bullet train from Seville to Madrid, when I swung my backpack off the storage rack and onto my shoulders in one swift, graceful move. Well... it would have been graceful, had I not managed to wrench my back in the process. Souvenirs may be memories that last a lifetime, but I'd gladly trade away my pinched nerve, even if the price were forgetting the train ride to Madrid altogether. The passenger next to me spent the whole time babbling about mergers and acquisitions, anyway.

Another reason people (especially the really pasty ones) who arrive in India with big suitcases stand out: many of the other pasty tourists who head to Delhi seem to be on some sort of spiritual quest. They arrive filled with plans to meditate, learn yoga, ritually immerse themselves at the source of the Ganges (whether they do so or not is another question: the water at Gangotri can be mighty cold for the amateur swami, even in July). Apparently this spiritual journey entails ditching everything they own, including all items of clothing without rips, holes, or frayed edges. You've heard about the women who walk around in sari petticoats, sure. But what about the guys who walk around in threadbare tank tops and camouflage shorts with rudraksha beads around their necks? These are the people who actually take time to stop and actively SNEER at my Samsonite. Clearly I Don't Know What India's Really About, or I wouldn't be so damn intent on spending my time there fully-clothed.

It's true, I am spiritually deficient. I have never had the urge to apprentice myself to a swami, or to learn to levitate, or even to ponder the meaning of my life while Surrounded By So Much Poverty. Folks who need to go look at poverty to feel better about their lives give me the creeps. While we're at it, I'm also not into trance-dances under the Goan moon. And I insist on bringing hand sanitizer! (Although that time on the Ahmedabad-Jodhpur train, when I used the Purell, and then tried to put in my contacts? It was a. BIG. Mistake.) And then there's the small matter of purchasing stuff. I plan to buy things. Madhubani paintings. Hindi DVDs. Kurtis. A couple of saris. Handsome volumes of Urdu calligraphy. Amar Chitra Katha. CDs. Kurkure. (I need my Kukure, dammit, even if they do make my nose run! And NO, you skeptics, they are NOT just Cheetos in masala-flavored disguise. The texture is totally different. Swear!) To cart all of this back will require space. My Samsonite is nice like that. Unlike the poor Europeans, I'm not restricted to a measly 20 kilos. I get a full 40, and I plan to exploit it. Every little corner of my big roomy Samsonite will be filled, come September.

So snicker, if you like. Call me an armchair tourist for arriving with a suitcase large enough to house two winter comforters and a small child to boot. Call me a sissy for showing up with three bottles of sunscreen and my favorite high heels. I vow to cast aside all shame. I will brazenly flaunt the two-wheeled Goliath. The truth is, my Samsonite also contains a duffel bag. I may not be enlightened, but when necessary, I travel as lightly as you.