FilmIndia (1940)

September 1940 FILM INDIA ed to me how for days and days he had walked towards Bombay, picking up scraps of food from fakirs, sadhus and even beggars. He was repentant and begged to be sent home. He had learnt his lesson and when I saw him off at the station he solemnly swore to me that he would continue his studies and never again think of becoming a film star. Unfortunately these types are rare. Those who reach Bombay in comparative comfort and who still have some money left seem destined for worse plights. More often than not the wherewithals to reach Bombay are either stolen from parents or borrowed from friends. But whether they come in comfort or not, it does not matter for my story .... the end is almost the same. ■ The first disappointment is met at the studio gate. The unromantic pathan, the Cerberus of the studio, brings them back to reality. "NO ADMISSION" he thunders and with the wave of a menacing club convinces. Nothing daunted, they come again the next day. The story goes on. Days fade into weeks and weeks become months .... the pathan grows more familiar and with familiarity shows more contempt. The presentable youth, who, on the first day had approached the studio gates, with knife-edged trousers and a coat to match, has now undergone a startling change. The pants have worn off, the coat is shabby (sometimes there is no coat, having been exchanged for a few meals) the shoes have lost theii shine and shape.... he is now a sorry figure, doubly so with the hungry look of abject misery dropping out of his very countenance He is now hunted by hunger and hopes. . MOHAN— THE MAJNU But, let Mohan tell you his story as he told it to me, so that you can yourself realize the terrible toll glamour' is taking of our youth. I met Mohan in one of those ihadowy and miserable looking ho tels down Frere Road. It did not take me long to sum him up. His long hair, side chops and the gaudy coloured scarf knotted around his neck .... all told me as vividly as they could that here was a youth yearning for the screen. When he learnt that I was a sort of a paper walla he almost jumped with joy. "Probably you can introduce me to some film director?" he asked. "Why?" I demanded. It was then that he gave me a brief history of his career. Mohan, that is not his name, came from the Punjab after failing in the Matriculation Examination. He was of respectable parents and his brother is still a high railway official. He had played a few roles In college dramatics, and evidently the success of them had gone to his head. So one fine day, he collected a hundred rupees and came to Bombay. The dreams he had fancied of film managers falling round his neck and offering him hero roles soon disappeared in the course of time. With the dreams vanished his small capital. A silver watch, a present from his mother on his 21st birthday, was pawned. His clothes one by one followed the watch, till he could no longer pay his rent, and was forced to work as a service-boy in the very hotel, in which he had once landed with great hopes of a glamorous film career. I pitied the young man. He looked so forlorn and battered, and when I asked him what sort of a job would suit him he eagerly replied "anything from a coolie to a star, but in a film studio." This is only one case. I could recite so many. But it is hardly necessary to do so. By the side-walks of Bori Bunder, on the pavements of Apollo Bunder, along the stretch between Dadar and Parel, outside the gates of every film studio you E. Billimoria and Lalita Pawar make a splendid team in "Nirali Duniya" a Tarun picture. 19