Our brief brush with glamour and glitz

As children, the glitter and glamour of Bollywood in all its black and white glory lay at a stone’s throw from our house. There were four movie houses, several film distributors and a couple of film billboard painters within a 200metre stretch of the Railway Road in Jalandhar.

After school, we sauntered to the compound where painters were found drawing curves and contours of actors on huge canvas boards that leaned against dilapidated brick walls. Some were found filling gaudy, sparkling colours in pre-drawn sketches. While we were in awe of their skills, we gained knowledge about which new film was going to be released.

Armed with this knowledge, we raided showcases outside cinema-house buildings where one could see black and white still photographs depicting scenes from the movie running there. Animated discussions were held within the group, trying to imagine the story line based on the pictures displayed in glass windows. To confirm our hypothesis, we tried to keenly listen to the sound of dialogues leaking from the hall. Our pocket money was never enough to gain entry into the hall. Occasionally, we pooled resources to have a go at it on the sly.

Our next stop used to be the backyards of film distributors, who would throw spoiled parts of film prints there. It was a goldmine in as far as we could gather enough shots to run our homemade magic lantern made out of a cardboard box and project scenes from films on one of the white-painted walls in the room. Children from the whole street, even from the next mohalla, gathered to witness the show whenever a new release was advertised by word of mouth.

It was customary for film stars to visit the theatre where their film had completed 100 days of continuous run. They usually stayed at Hotel Raj Mahal, which was again nearby. I don’t know how information travelled in those days but it was always found to be true whenever a hero or heroine stayed there. A crowd would gather outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the celebrity, may it be Rajendra Kumar, Raj Kapoor, Surender Kapoor or Indira Billi of Punjabi films. One of our older cousins, Som Nath, who had an impressive personality, took all this too seriously. He was so enamoured of films that one day he struck a chord with a yesteryear actor, Sheikh Mukhtar, when he visited Jalandhar. Soon, he disappeared.

The next day, my maternal uncle came to our house looking for Som. One of our group members said he may have left for Bombay. Uncle was heartbroken because Som was his only son. After this episode, the elders cut short our visits to Railway Road.

A month later, the same uncle came with a beaming face, waving a postcard written by Som. He told everybody with glee that Som had found roles in three movies as an extra. Two of the films were named Police and Tipu Sultan. Uncle was so upbeat that we hoped that the restoration of our visa to Railway Road was only a matter of time. We even dreamed of being Som’s guests in his sea-facing bungalow someday, of working in films and rubbing shoulders with the bold and the beautiful of Bollywood.

Alas! That was not to be. Another letter from our hero dashed all hopes. He had developed jaundice due to lack of nourishment and unhygienic conditions. His income was not enough to sustain him. He wanted to be evacuated.

That was the end of the Bollywood chapter of our lives.

OUR POCKET MONEY WAS NEVER ENOUGH TO GAIN ENTRY INTO THE CINEMA HALL SO WE POOLED RESOURCES