Warning!! Contains graphic animal cruelty – but it is quite funny…

Vincent Van Gogh ain't got nothing on me!

After living in Mumbai for a period of six months I was kind of used to seeing people with the odd arm missing, maybe half a leg, one eye sewn up here and there but nothing had prepared me for what I saw whilst walking past bulimia Bademiya (Mumbai’s premier street-food kebab stall- (think British car boot chuckie wagon, the dodgy one that you know is going to give you the ecoli virus!!!)) late last night…. A DOG WITH NO LIMBS! For those of you that don’t understand English, blinked whilst reading or didn’t quite comprehend it the first time… I said: I saw a dog with absolutely no limbs whatsoever, as in a dog’s body, a head and a kind of tail…that’s it!  My first thought was ‘What kind of sick b@st@rd did this to a fellow creature of God?’ However that feeling soon past when I saw some foreign travelers attempting to feed the poor freak of nature animal. They were purposely placing the food a few feet in front of it, forcing it to wriggle on its stumps for the ultimate prize of a half chewed chicken kebab! I know I should have said something, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t big and it certainly wasn’t clever but everyone around was in hysterics… the laughter was contagious, because let’s face it - a dog with no limbs, wriggling on its belly to get a bit of rancid kebab is absolutely hilarious in any language… isn’t it? (Awkward silence)... No?... Don’t judge me.

Unfortunately (if you are a bit of sadist like me) or fortunately (if you are member of PETA) I didn’t have my camera on me (for the first frickin ever! grrr!) so until I track the creature down (and believe me I will try), please see my detailed diagram of said incident above and forgive me.... please?

Door Number Three Please Bob…

Who lives in a house like this?? 

As the lady of the manor (that’s me by the way) wouldn’t be living in Mumbai anymore it meant that Paul was demanded required to downsize. The sad thing about this was that we had to say goodbye to our faithful slave, servant, helper Praveen; but have no fear Pauls new place came with a new helper ….Bhaskar. Bhaskar (or Bilbo Baggins as I prefer to call him) is a perfect cross between a Hobbit (think Lord of the Rings) and the little mice from the Disney classic Cinderella. A Hobbit because he lives behind a door that only a Hobbit/ Borrower could enter without bumping its head and the mice from Cinderella because he comes into Pauls house and tidies up all of his crap whilst singing cheerful melodies. Also his name is Bhaskar which I’m sure is a Hobbit’s name.

'Ohhh We're Going to Ibiza'

I’ll forgive you for thinking that this is an old holiday snap of me at a trendy beach bar in San Antonio, Ibiza, but it is not! This is a new beach café, aptly named ‘Café on the Beach’, located on Chowpatty-bloody-beach, Mumbai and I'll have you know it's awesome! The speakers were playing chilled out funky house, the food on offer consisted of tasty sandwiches, wraps and salads and with the cosy cabanas I honestly felt like I was on my summer holidays...until I asked for their wine menu. ''Sorry Maam, we do not sell alcohol''… They always have to ruin it don’t they?

Ramesh Schumacher!

Ramesh( I know awful shirt!)

When my Kingfisher flight landed with an ear deafening screech, narrowingly missing the slum situated on the runway, my first thought was ‘Here we go again’ and dreaded the next 2 hours (which is normally the amount of time it takes to exit Mumbai airport.) I pushed myself to the front of the aeroplane and was first off so rushed to immigration. Now videsigirlinmumbai followers will know that me and Indian immigration are not the best of friends and I have had issues in the past, but to my surprise with a smile (yes a smile) and a stamp, I was at the luggage carousel within a short 5 minutes, and only two power outages later I was walking away with my luggage, I was then ushered past the hour long scanning machine queue straight outside where Ramesh and of course Mr Hanley were waiting to take me home. Before I could give Paul a Yuletide embrace, Ramesh (whose once immaculately maintained moustache had now morphed into a scruffy goatee in style of George Michael circa 1990, Freedom) grabbed my hand and shook it so hard I thought it was going to drop off! ‘Merry Christmas maaam, I have missed you’ Arrrrr I thought, I’d bloody missed Ramesh too. ‘’I missed you too Ramesh Ji’’ I replied. His little rat like features lit up as he pulled my suitcase (which was roughly the size of him) to the car.

Honey... I'm Home!

Call off the search party, bring back the Coast Guard, inform Scotland Yard that the prodigal son daughter has returned…. For now! My loyal followers may have noticed that I haven’t blogged for a good six months, reason being I have actually been having a life in no other than the city of clean…Singapore!!! After my 10-day silent nightmare meditation course I realised that Mumbai was not the place for a high heel wearing, short skirt loving, extravert like myself and managed to convince le husband (in my own way) to move back to Singapore.  As he had notice to serve it was decided that I would head over first, get a job and set up our new life and he would join a few weeks later.  After a few days at a friends house I checked in at the Marina Bay Sands Hotel. Whilst I was checking in the over friendly receptionist commented on how skinny I was, extremely flattered I replied ‘’Thank you, but I suppose that’s what you get when you live in Mumbai for a year’’ (obviously over exaggerating my 6 months so it sounded better) a look of shock (I presume over the fact I had been living in India, not my protruding bones) came over the woman’s face. After a few clicks she smiled at me and said ‘’Enjoy your stay, I have arranged an upgrade for you’’ Pleased as punch I made my way up to my……pimping suite!

Malaria Watch: Monsoon Edition!

Week 1 Malaria Watch: Monsoon Edition!

Like most people I have been taking extra precautions to ensure I am not bitten and infected with Malaria during the Monsoon season. These precautions include:

·     *  Not leaving the house. Ever

·      * Dressing head to toe in clothes, ensuring no area of the body is uncovered – think Ninja/ woman in a Burka

·      * Spraying myself, everything and everyone around me with creatively named repellents such as;  ‘Buzz Off’ ‘Mosquito Gone’ and ‘Moz Away’

·      * Arming myself with one of those surprisingly entertaining electrified tennis racquet's which instantly kills bugs on contact (this is also fun for electrocuting your husband)

However all of these precautions went out of the window when we decided to hit Bandra on Saturday night! The legs were out, the perfume was on and the electrified tennis racket was deemed inappropriate.
It was during the hours of 3.30am-4.10am whilst waiting for a taxi/ travelling home in the taxi/ arriving home in the taxi I was again bitten, not once, not twice but three times on the right leg (this seems to be the leg preferred by Mosquitoes)! Oh how I wish I would have worn jeans!

I Don't Normally Do Serious...

India isn’t the only place in the world you get begged at, I know. Many a time in Birmingham I have been asked if I could ‘Spare a bit of change’ or if ‘I want to buy a ‘Big Issue’ from a beggar, but in India it really is a whole new kettle of fish. I rarely write about things that don’t amuse me and although being bribed at the airport wasn’t my idea of funny, I can imagine me clambering up a ramp to the hold of an aeroplane, wearing skinny jeans and wedges was comical to the workers below, so I’ll let that one go, but this post is serious.

Beggars are everywhere here, men, women, children, babies, old ladies, children with one arm, children with no arms, ladies with scared faces, men with no legs (you get the picture,) constantly approach me asking for money, or Chapatti (Indian food). The relentless begging means that I hardly leave the house on my own anymore as the children will just follow me for miles and the sight of babies playing half naked in the street was starting to disturb me. At night you will see families who cant even afford to live in a slum lying on cardboard boxes in the street, trying to sleep.

People said to me before I moved to India that you get used to the begging and you just have to tell them ‘No’ and they go away, but I’ve never got used to it. Its just awful to see adults and children living this way and all I want to do is give them everything in my pockets, but I know that you can't do that. Everyone gets begged at here, I probably slightly more as I’m female and white but even the local Indians get their fair share, the difference is if they say ‘No’ they will walk away, when I say ‘No’ they don’t really listen.

Examples:

'Rain, Rain....' Are You Coming or What?

View from my window today

Errrrrrm, I thought it was supposed to rain in the Monsoon? I’m thinking of getting my bikini and the factor 15 out! 

Don’t Report me to the RSPCA!!

Holy Cow? Skinny Cow more like

Although I have seen more cows in England in areas as big as my living room than I have in the whole of Mumbai, I have been lead to believe that they are Holy here and I have occasionally seen one or two at the roadside standing next to little old ladies washing their clothes. Before I went back home to the UK one of these little old ladies grabbed me and asked me if I wanted to feed her Cow for good luck. I had 10 rupees on me so gave it to her; in return she gave me some cardboard and urged me to feed the ‘Holy Cow’ with it. I don’t know about you but I expected to be given luscious green grass or a fresh wholesome vegetable of some sort to feed this sacred creature with, not a piece of old, brown, dirty, cardboard? At first I declined, cruelty to animals and all, but the little old lady wouldn’t take no for an answer! She ripped off a sizeable strip, stuffed it into my hand, then rammed the card board (and almost my hand) in to its mouth. ‘Thank you goodbye maam’ she said. Did I feel full of luck? No! Did I feel full of Holiness? No! Did I feel like I had just been conned out of 10 rupees by a little old lady and now the Cow God was going to unleash bad luck on me because I fed its form on earth with crappy cardboard? Absofrigginglutely! 

Your Guide to Bollywood - See What They Did?

As I have been an extra in a Bollywood movie, offered actual lines and a character name in another and now been asked if I’d like to be in the latest Indian Pepsi advert, I think its fair to say I am a bit of an expert on the industry (ah hem). Being the generous individual I am I would like to share this knowledge of celebrity with you. When I first arrived in India I didn’t know the first thing about Bollywood, in fact I thought people had just spelt Hollywood wrong; but I only had to turn on the TV and look at the hundreds of billboards to see that Bollywood stars (and cricket stars but I don’t really know much about them) rule the roost!

Please find below a little guide of who I consider, I’ll repeat, I consider, to be the ‘cream of the crop’ when it come to Bollywood so when someone asks you what you think of ‘Big B’ you won’t say ‘Oh yes, I always wanted to go into the house, my favourite was Jade Goody’ (like I did).  No need to thank me.

People Write Some Rubbish When They’re Bored!

It has always amazed me as to why there is no plug hole in our shower. Instead the water carefully trickles into the basin, travels a short distance through an expertly positioned tunnel, then works its way over a few tiles and finally down the drain. It never loses course and it always keeps in a precise line, this is probably because of the natural erosion of the tiles (I learnt that at school but it was for rocks and rivers not bathroom tiles and tap water.) Amazing! (It's not amazing at all is it really?)

Some people may say I have to much time on my hands-
The blue arrows indicate the direction of the water

Lets take a closer look:

Please take note of the expertly chizzled outlet for the
water from the shower cubical

Oh and just to clarify a pigeon hasn’t pooed all over my bathroom, this is the actual design of the tiles that someone once chose from a shop, thought ‘aren’t they lovely’ paid good money for them and subsequently decorated their bathroom with them. No offence if you have chosen similar tiles for your bathroom.

Oh Sit Down, Oh Sit Down, Sit Down Next to Me...

Well used

I would like to thank everyone for all the caring (and some slightly sacastic) emails and messages I have received in regards to my hemorrhoids. I’m sure you’ve all been dying to find out how I got on with my 17p cream?? No? Well I’ll tell you anyway, it worked a treat, I was back to sitting on my derriere pain free within 10 short days. Best 17 pence ever spent I say!

Here's a song to celebrate:

This isn't Even Funny, it's Just Fact!

,

They should be quaking in their boots!!

When the little girl who had been kicking, elbowing, staring and generally annoying me for the entire 8.5 hour flight from Brussels to Bombay was sick on me during one of the most bumpiest landings I have ever experienced, I wasn’t fazed, (relieved she had missed my Mulberry bag, but not fazed); It just meant that my return to Mumbai was equally as eventful as my departure to the UK earlier that month. We had a 4.30am flight to Manchester Airport, so it was an early one for us all, Ramesh picked us up at 2.00am on the dot and we made our way to Mumbai Chattrapathi Shivaji International airport. Unsurprisingly (well actually surprisingly to your everyday folk, but not surprising to me because I live in India) we had to join an hour-long queue to enter the airport. The police were checking passports and e-tickets before you were allowed to enter departures. No e-ticket, no passport, no entry! We never usually print off our e-ticket but today we did, halleluiah! The unnecessary queuing had really eaten into my duty free shopping time so we rushed to check in our bags, although there was no queue, again we were kept waiting. Extremely frustrated we marched up to the desk and plonked our bags on the scales, which was to the dismay of the porter who would normally do this manual labour on your behalf, (for a small tip of course). All checked in with an hour to spare we made our way to fill out a stupidly long departure form and to passport control. I showed my passport, ‘Stamp, stamp’ 'Have a pleasant trip Madame' Hoorah!! I felt like I had been released from a 5 month stint in jail!! Off I skipped merrily to buy some cheap booze ready for a celebratory clean watered bubble bath in the 5 star hotel that awaited us. My elated feeling soon disappeared when I noticed Paul wasn’t behind me; I returned to the passport desks to find Paul having a full-blown argument with the immigration officer who refused to let him pass through! ‘Where is your Visa’ asked the gentleman, 'Its there' replied Paul pointing to his 2 year Indian Visa. ‘Where is your signature’ asked the man, ‘There it is’ replied Paul and pointed to his signature. ‘Your picture does not look like you’ the man continued. (It bloody does look like Paul, no one else I know has such perfectly groomed, dark eyebrows) ‘Yes it is!’ yelled Paul! I stepped in ‘I cannot believe you are not letting him leave the country! Don’t let us back in, that’s fine by us, but let us leave for Gods sake!!!’ Paul pushed me to side before I could make a swing for him. ‘Where is your FRRO certificate to prove your Visa is valid’ continued the man. Paul visibly peed off said ‘Its at home, you don’t need it, I travelled abroad last week and I wasn’t asked for it’ (This is true, Paul had travelled the previous week and wasn’t asked for it) ‘You need it, go get it else no travel’ he replied ‘I can’t go back, I live on Marine Drive which is around an hour away, my flight leaves in 40 minutes!’ shouted Paul. ‘Well’ the man replied and made a very slight hand gesture as if to say- MONEY!

Kill Me, Kill Me Now!

I’d been putting it off for two days now, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I entered the Pharmacy and spoke to the first person I saw behind the counter, typically he and everyone else who worked there were male. ‘Have you got any cream for hemorrhoids?’ I whispered in the quietest voice in the world ever. ‘What Madam?’ he replied ‘Hemorrhoids, cream for hemorrhoids?’ I replied slightly louder. ‘Hair shampoo’ he responded, ‘No, hemorrhoids, or, errr, piles, cream for piles’ I said getting slightly agitated. ‘Blah, bah, blah, PILES, blah, blah’ (the blah, blahs being Hindi words I couldn’t understand) he shouted to his colleague at the opposite side the shop. ‘Blah, blah, blah, PILES, blah, blah PILES’ His friend shouted back. ‘PILES blah, PILES blah’ the shop and it's dog started shouting. Just wishing the world would swallow me up whole, four men then started grabbling the shelves and presenting me with different tablets and creams for my newfound ailment. I chose the one nearest my hand ‘This is fine, fine, how much’ I hurried ’33 rupees Maaaam’ ’33 rupees?’ I double-checked ‘Yes Maam'. I left the shop more embarrassed than I have ever been in my life with a tube of cream that cost me 17 p! I don’t hold out much hope.

Cleopatra Eat Your Heart Out

After 10 days of bathing in a bucket, I was looking forward to a nice, long, warm shower. Before I left for Pune we had sorted out the yellow water issue so thought nothing of just jumping straight in there. As I turned the tap on the smell of vomit filled the room, I quickly exited the shower and scowered the house, maybe Paul had got a little bit tipsy whilst I away, but there was no evidence in the bin, toilet or anywhere? I got back into the shower where I soon realized that it was the water that smelt of pure sick, no amount of soap could hide the stench! Rather than make a fuss (at this point...mainly because I was naked) I thought I would make use of my newfound bathing skills and filled a large bucket with cold mineral water! Although my hair now has a shine to rival a L’Oreal advert girl, I don’t feel bathing in Aquafina is a practical solution! After spending most of the afternoon explaining to Praveen what sick was he has finally taken a sample for tests, Watergate continues... again….

Week ? Malaria Watch

Week I've lost count: Malaria Watch: My Vipassana experience has done nothing for my love of Mosquitos! I still hate them, as in Hitler, Bin Laden and the song 'Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" hate!

They Don't Warn You of That do They!!!

When you were little, did your Mom ever tell you 'Don't sit on the cold, hard floor, you'll get piles'??
Well put it this way, I am proof that this is no old wives tale! Damn you Vipassana and your hard as rock meditating cushions!!!!!!

Vipassana - Rehab for Poor People Part 3

In the morning I woke up to the sound of the alarm, I turned my weary head to the right… NAKED TIGER BALM LADY, NAKED TIGER BALM LADY!!!! I ran into the bathroom and stayed there until she left for the hall, my eyes were scarred!

Every evening from 7.00- 8.30 pm we were required to watch a video explaining about what we had done that day and how we may be feeling. Goenka, the guy from Burma who has been spreading the word of the Vipassana was speaking in the video and he was hilarious! Although my bum would be killing me after a hard days work sitting on it, I used to laugh out loud and really look forward to his stories. The English speaking tape and Hindi speaking tape were played in separate rooms with the English tape finishing a good 15 minutes before the Hindi version. For this time we were exposed to the elements, being bitten to death my mosquitoes and left to fend for our selves in the darkness. As I left the hall I would always say hello to the Geko that lived near the light bulb, whom I fondly called Craig David, as at the time I first discovered him I had the song ‘I’m walking away’ (from the troubles in my life’- quite apt actually) in my head. I would then grab my torch and go for a nature ramble around the vegetable patches hoping and praying to see something interesting; I saw a cat, a dog and a Praying Mantis (a type of insect), not quite up to David Attenborough standards but I was pleased.

Vipassana - Rehab for Poor People Part 2

The official agenda for the day was as follows, but I should have really added Tiger Balm Ladies midnight, mental, chanting, washing of her clothes between 3.00 and 3.30 am and her pill taking and medical cream applying from 9.30 till 10.00 pm but I haven't.

4:00 am		Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am		Meditate in hall
6:30-8:00 am		Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am		Meditate in the hall
11:00-12:00 noon		Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm		Rest
1:00-2:30 pm		Meditate in the hall
2:30-3:30 pm		Group meditation in the hall
3.30-5.00 pm		Meditate in the hall
5:00-6:00 pm		Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm		Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm		Question time in the hall
9:30 pm		Retire to your own room--Lights out

In total we were required to spend over 10 hours a day meditating or in layman’s terms, 10 hours a day sitting on our arses! I was sincerely worried that my bottom would alter shape by the end of the course!

On the first official day whilst walking in the pitch, black morning to the Dhamma Hall the unthinkable happened, my flip-flop broke! Now a meditation course without easily exit able footwear, is like Jesus with no beard or going snorkeling without a snorkel (probably a better example) it’s just wrong, but being my fathers daughter, I managed to fix my flip-flop with a hair bobble and grip. Yes, I looked like a tramp who couldn’t afford a pair of functioning flip flops, as no one had even had the opportunity to see them in their original form, but I was happy with the result. As I entered the hall, I noticed a few of the girls looking at me with sympathy, maybe it was because of the poor state of my flip- flops or maybe they had been witness to the happenings that went on in my room the previous night, either way I could tell they felt for me and I was grateful.

Vipassana - Rehab for Poor People

After 7 hours, 5 near death experiences, 3 dead animals, 2 punchers and 1 extremely annoyed Ramesh we arrived at Pune Vipassana Meditation Centre… which turned out to be the wrong Pune Vipassana Meditation Centre, the one we needed was another 1 hours drive away called Pune Riverside Vipassana Meditation Centre! We eventually arrived with an even more annoyed Ramesh, 3 hours late.  It said on the confirmation letter that if you arrived after 5.00pm your place would be given away, luckily I had rang up twice, asked Ramesh to ring up, sent 2 emails and asked Paul to contact them to make doubly, tripperly, quadruperly sure I still had my place. I wasn’t missing the opportunity to write a fantastic blog post purify my mind, for anybody!

I think they call it shabby chic

A construction site at a meditation centre-
only in India

After registration I made my way to the dorms, the first thing to strike me was the quiet sense of tranquility that surrounded the centre, the peacefulness, the birds singing and the calm breeze in the trees, the second thing I noticed was the working construction site slap bang in the middle of the complex and signs apologizing for the noise, so I knew this particular feeling would be short lived! After a five-minute walk down a stony path I arrived at my room, number ¾ (I know stupid) I stepped inside, Oh-My -God! It was like something out of the TV show 'Banged Up Abroad'! The floor was a brown dirty, pooh colour, the walls were stained with the blood of squashed Fly's and Mosquitoes, metal bars adorned the windows and the beds- (yes beds, I was sharing my room), mattresses (if you can call them that) were about one inch thick and were laid on a plank of wood attached to the wall. The bathroom toilet room had no shower, just a tap and bucket to wash in and the toilet was leaking from the bottom (but I was used to that) I wasn’t expecting five star luxury but I couldn’t imagine these conditions were going to help me achieve my 'balanced mind full of love and compassion'! I was concerned.

Shhhhhhhh!

I’m meditating silently for 10 days; I will be back on line 24^th May.  

Meditation course whilst you’re in India? It’s the law!

Thank the Lord for Make-up - I know I look rough without it!

If I was a Mr. Man I would probably be Mr. Loud and if I was A Little Miss I would definitely be Little Miss Chatterbox (not Miss Bossy, Paul!) so it may come as a surprise to you all that I have booked to go on a 10 day silent Meditation course known locally as Vipassana, commencing the 14^th May.

To comply with the T and C’s (terms and conditions, durr) I have gone against everything I believe in and have been shopping for, ewwww, I can’t say it… baa…. nooo…bagg… pleaaassse…oh alright, baggy trousers and loose top things, the style adorned by hippy travelers the world over. Short of getting dreadlocks, changing my name to Dragon Fly and not washing for a month I think I’ll fit in just fine.

 All the aides which help me complete my polished look everyday including, my hairdryer, my GHDs (the large ones and the small ones), my Babyliss Big Hair rotating curling brush, my Babyliss Root boost Styler and all my makeup (we’d be here all day if I started listing these) will be left behind.

Watergate!

And the battle continues in what I now fondly call Watergate! This was my bathroom floor yesterday afternoon. I have no words.

No, its not what you're thinking, its muddy, silty, brown water!

Emptying the tank once again

I'm Ready for my Close-Up...

Looking guuuuud

It may have taken 3 months, 2 weeks, 1 day, 4 hours, 27 minutes and err approximately 31 seconds but I have finally done it! I was an extra in a Bollywood movie!! 
If you are an avid follower of this blog, you probably recall me being denied of my first opportunity to ‘break the industry’ a mere 3 days into my Mumbai adventure, as Paul decided to make other plans at the 11^th hour. Since then we haven’t ventured into the touristy areas so I haven’t been approached since, however on Monday I decided to clean out my handbag! Now, every Woman knows that this tedious task can take hours and who knows what you might find; as well as a total of 15 British Pound coins (I haven’t lived in the UK for nearly a year) 6 earplugs, 16 nail files, a fork, 3 stones and a shell I found the Bollywood scouts card!  As it was Paul’s fault I wasn’t the western worlds answer to Priyanka Chopra yet I asked him to call immediately! ‘Yes she will be at McDonalds Colaba tomorrow at 8.00am!’ he confirmed. It was as easy as that! I was in!
I arrived punctually at 8.00am the next day, there was 19 of us all together. I arrived via driver in a blue flowery dress, compulsory 4 inch wedges, hair straightened and full make up ready to go, the other 18 were bohemian stylee backpackers to whom the words soap and hairdryer would be a distant memory, I looked a little bit out of place but I wasn’t fazed. The bunch consisted of: An Irish primary school teacher, a Canadian actor who is off to Pakistan and Afghanistan next, 3 Irish doctors, a guy from Norwich and a girl from Sweden who met travelling, a man in his 50’s whose flight back to the UK has been delayed for 11 days, 2 girls from Spain, a screen writer from Mexico, 2 guys from France, one of which was drugged on Friday and didn’t come round until Monday and was robbed of everything he owned- he was doing this for the money so he could get back home, 2 young guys from Holland, a Woman from Belgium who was flying home that evening and 4 lovely 18 year old ladies from the UK (If I had little sisters I would want them to be like these girls, they were just lovely and from the Lesbian capital of the world as one of them proudly told me. )  After a brief hello we were carted off by the organizer into Taxis and ferried to Mehboob (he, he) Studios in Bandra. We were first treated to breakfast, which consisted of various Indian delights including a chili and mushroom omelet, which was delicious, we then made our way to the less than glamorous green room where we could meet each other properly. The Irish teacher and the girls from the lesbian capital of the world had already spent one day filming, so were explaining to us all what to expect, they seemed to have really enjoyed it so I was looking forward to getting started. No hair and makeup was required as it was a nightclub scene so only costumes were needed, we made our way into ‘wardrobe’ or 'really old clothing rail', as it should have been called. The girls were given pretty crappy dresses and the guys old 1960’s style suits, after seeing the Indian guys and girls on set we came to the conclusion that they wanted to depict Indians as being ‘cooler’ than westerners or this is what they thought westerners wore, either way we all thought we looked hilarious and took some snaps. My dress was zebra print and didn’t fit at all, so I asked if I could wear my own dress, they agreed. Once dressed the organizer locked up our possessions in the room and we made our way down to the set. Here the atmosphere was electric, the music was already pumping and we were told to dance like we had never danced before! After a few minutes of ‘warming up’ they started performing proper choreographed Bollywood dance moves and everyone joined in! Being the ex A Level dance student I am, I picked it up very easily, but so did the 3 Irish doctors so that proves how simple it was. As I had my wedges on I was a good 5 inches taller than all the other girls who were wearing flip flops, so was put at the back of most of scenes- so who knows if you’ll ever get to see my expert moves?
Once they had the crowd scene down the actors came on stage with a group of white western dancers. These poor girls were dressed in red bra and pants with some sort of doily on their heads, it’s no wonder Indian men stare at white women walking down the street, this is who they think we are! I felt sorry for them as everyone was staring, but they are professional dancers from England, Australia and America who come to Mumbai with an agency for 6 months and dance in various Bollywood movies. They get paid around 7000 rupees per day which is pretty good and the chances of them getting an opportunity in a film back home would be slim, but still, they were clearly less than impressed with their costumes and covered up between takes. When the actors arrived on stage things started to take a bit longer, we would dance for ten seconds and then the music was cut, we would chat for a bit and then the process would start again. Yes, it could have got slightly boring but it was more about the atmosphere, being within sniffing distance of Bollywood actors and meeting and learning about new people. We had frequent breaks where we were given local chai, water, and Tic Tacs (I know random) and lunch was a delight, chicken curry, Dahl, rice and potatoes and they weren’t stingy on the portions either.

Turn it this way!

Although we spent the whole day trying to figure out what the movie was about we just couldn’t do it, it was too random, there were two fat guys dressed as twins with milk bottle glasses and goofy teeth, a man in drag, a man in a turban, the hero in a suit, the obligatory, beautiful Indian heroin and 50 Chinese extras, so we presumed we were in China, but that was the best we could come up with. The main Bollywood actors starring in this film were Mallika Sherawat, Ritesh Deshmukh and Sanjay Dutt. The only one of these actors I had heard of was Mallika as she was following me on Twitter before I left (I was following her too) but apparently Sanjay was really famous (and hot) back in the day. The film is called 'Double Dhamaal', which is a sequel to the film Dhamaal. 
At 8.30pm we started to film the final scene, which again involved dancing and waving your arms up in the air (like you just don’t care), within 15 minutes we were finished and everyone started cheering. ‘That was a wrap’ (I’ve always wanted to say that) the director shouted. Although long and tiring, with lots of stopping and starting, I had a fantastic day, I learnt so much about the world from the backpackers and have at least 6 new friends of Facebook! I was also offered a speaking role for a movie on 21^st and 22^nd of May but I unfortunately have other plans (more on this to follow) But most of all I was in an actual, real life, Bollywood movie! I feel complete!
If you are in Mumbai and would like to be an extra in a Bollywood movie, email imran.giles@gmail.com

The set

Sound

The dancer with a doily on her head

Drag queen, (the one in the pink)

Mallika and the man in drag

Another one of the set - nightclub

The main man 

Dancing