An Actor Prepares.....Learning Silambam

Learning Silambam - The Indian Single Stick fighting Technique....

For the past week I had been looking for someone to teach me Silambatam, the single stick fighting technique of the ancient Tamils. For those wondering at my new found interest in learning the art of stick fighting, let me console you with the happy thought that my enemies have not multiplied enough to start looking for ways to thrash them with weapons. If you rewind a few posts back you can read how I was informally offered a lead role in an up-coming television mega serial (a historical story based one) but the script needed proficiency in sword fighting, horse riding and in silambatam, which involves twirling a stick and beating in all the heads which get near. After my last unsatisfactory television experience from a few years ago, when I had compered an early morning breakfast show, which was telecast so early in the morning that the only persons who ever watched it regularly were my loyal parents (even I having difficulty in waking up that early to watch my own show), I had decided that television was “never more, never again” for me, and henceforth I would only star on the big screen, if ever I wanted to switch careers. But after staying away from the cameras for so long and concentrating on my other career (and after finally realizing that making even a half-decent movie with my own earnings would mean I would debut only in my fifties), I decided to lower my standards a bit and go back to television. But only prime time television. No early  morning, shows, no afternoon cookery shows, no late night music shows. Either a prime time serial or nothing. And when a friend offered to get me such a role without auditioning for it, I decided to accept with reservations. The reservations were due to certain physical requirements for the role which involved acting bare bodied (exposing the upper body only thankfully) and also involved horse riding, sword fighting and stick fighting. All of which I had cheerfully told my friend that I was a master of. I mean, if I was gonna be an actor, the first thing to do is act confident, right? With a camera or without it, I was going to act all knowing and all talented, despite the butterflies in the stomach.

Come to think of it, I really don’t understand the craze of these modern day TV directors to insist on their actors learning such obscure skills when they will feature it maybe for just a few minutes in the final-cut of their serials. The rest of the serial would be filled, as usual, with long (pages and pages) of dialogues with close-up shots of the face and hence in my view, the minimum requirement of an expressive face and an effortless dialogue delivery should more than suffice. A mega serial is not a movie, even if the makers think so (and budget for). In fact, I once got away with offering this same argument at an audition for a movie, an international production of the life of Buddha titled “Siddhartha” to made on a big budget with Hollywood technicians. when I auditioned for that movie, the promotional pamphlets advertised that it was to be directed by a man who had previously directed a Hindi movie called lagan, someone called aditi gowatriker, oh wait, that’s the model lady right? No, I didn’t audition with her for any role (cross my heart and believe me), this guy had a similar name, this guy was called, oh, I got it now, he was ashutosh goawatriker (same last name? Any relation aditi?) Anyhow when I tried to audition for the lead role of Gautama Buddha, the assistant directors in charge of filtering the hopefuls tried to brush me off saying that they were looking for fit and six pack bodied actors to play Buddha. I tried to convince them that the Buddha they were looking for did not historically resemble hulking big-built guys (who made up the entire crowd called for auditions), professional models with a face like a log of wood and as expressive as salman khan. The real Siddhartha was a prince, I reminded the AD's, used to the good life and wouldn't have spent years in the gym to go around shirtless and I invited them to take a look at my calm, serene countenance and I especially directed their attention to my ears, which were perfect for the Buddha role. Anyway it’s too fascinating (but too long) a story to tell now, the story of how my ears almost got me the role of Siddhartha in a international production and so I will do a full blogpost on it sometime soon in the future. And we will now get back to my efforts to prepare for a TV serial.

When In doubt I turn to my friends, so during one of our usual evening chai/chat sessions at the hospital canteen, I enquired in my friends circle about learning horse riding. My friend Bobs, who considers himself an expert on everything and has an opinion on all topics, almost split his tea down his coat with shock at my casual enquiry and leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially he said “I cant believe you are asking now at this age, but if you are indeed so naïve then the best place to learn horse riding would be to go to Bangkok, they have the best horses procured internationally and you can learn all the fancy riding techniques from experts, but if you feel that its too big a budget for you, then the next best alternative is the Indian destination of pune. It’s low under the radar of the police vice squads and has a recently developed anything goes culture, you have all sorts of girls available there, even authentic college girls looking for some part time work, you know” and he winked at me obscenely. Then it was my turn to spill my tea on my coat, as I assured him that when I meant horse riding I really meant horse riding, the real horses, you know the ones with four legs, not two, and if I say pony riding it’s about the real animal pony and not riding something with pony tails and after such detailed explanations finally got him around to see things from my (decent) point of view. So then my friends gang agreed to ask around town and find out for me a proper horse-riding school, where I could learn to stand beside a horse stylishly (as if I had been riding one since birth), with a casual hand on its neck and speak my dialogues confidently at the camera, which was all that was required honestly. Of course, Bobs other suggestions of going to the race course and learning riding on the race horses or going to marina beach and learning to ride the rs.50/ride joy riding ponies were all shot down by the gang as impractical and foolish and typical bobs. But I am sure, for sheer options to a question, any question at all, you can’t beat my friend bobs for his ingenuity in answering. It was a pity the external examiners didn’t share the same opinion during his final exam viva.

Anyhow, once the search for learning horse riding had been outsourced to my friends circle, the next step, we decided, involved a visit to Ritchie Street to pick up a DVD of the old movie Conan the Barbarian, where Arnold Schwarzenegger teaches sword fighting techniques. I told my friends confidently that i just need to play the dvd a dozen times over the weekend and learn from watching Arnold closely on how to show-off with a sword and behold a new sword master is born. Or at least I could act (and strut around) like a blademaster in front of the camera for enough time for the director to say cut. 

With that little requirement too out of the way, the only thing left to learn was Silambatam, the stick fighting technique. My first proposal was to get yet another DVD and learn the art of Silambam fighting from that champion of all Silambatam fighters – K.Bhagyaraj as seen in the old Tamil Film Thooral Ninu Pochu. My friend disagreed with me and told me MGR was the best he had seen in Maatukara Velan. Meanwhile a third friend told me that at least this one I should go and learn from a real person instead of from movies and based on his recommendation, I went down to a local gym were half a dozen teenage boys were twirling thin sticks and making as if they really were onto something. The first thing which struck me was that the pupils were all practicing their own styles of stick twirling. If you have seen any kungfu/jackiechan martial arts movies, you would know that the first thing that any kungfu master teaches is for everyone to make the same move at the same time while shouting “oh, ah, uuh”. This shows that the master is from the Shaolin Temple and knows his stuff. But here, it was all chaos and no coordination with everyone practicing a new technique on their own. In the few minutes I stood there watching I could see that some of those students’ heads escaped getting cracked from their fellow student’s sticks purely due to the luck of the incompetent. 

And with that in mind, I carefully made my way over to where the Silambam master was lounging against a wall and talking on his mobile phone. When I could finally broach the subject of my visit he told me his fee per class and once I agreed to it, he handed me a ridiculously thin stick and taking up a similar one in his hand told me to follow his movements closely. It looked pretty childish to me standing there, twirling a thin stick over the head, swatting mosquitoes and I didn’t feel comfortable with the knowledge that if it came to a real fight, I could probably catch, bend and break one of those silambam sticks with my bare hands and then do the same to the stick wielder too. The silambam master had meanwhile stopped fanning the breeze on one side and turning to the other side, my side, urged me “faster, faster”. So I went faster and faster and caught up in the moment, stick twirling in my wrists in a blur, I almost brained the watching master, when he screamed in pure fright (for self-preservation) “now turn other side”. As my nonviolent self asserted itself in time and I twisted away to the other side I felt a sudden sharp pain in my ankles and realized I had twisted my ankle alone to turn instead of turning with the whole body. I don’t know who was more relieved when I hobbled off limping- me or the coach. Anyhow laid up at home with a sprained ankle means my preparations are at a temporary cessation, but I will soon be getting back onto my feet and then its more sword fighting and horse riding for me. I think I will leave the Silambam safely alone for now. It’s not safe to hand me a stick and to hope no one gets brained with it. And with that my preparations as an actor have come to a temporary halt. Keep coming back for more updates on how an actor prepares.

One Day At a TV Serial....

December is here upon us and here in Chennai December is famous for its cool mornings and hot music season. December is also the time when my assistants insist that I stay off work and finally spend all the leave- a long list of off-duty's and accumulated vacation time I am entitled to, but have not taken till now and which are in danger of lapsing with the year end. I sympathize with their desire to be free of my hands on management at least for a few days and try to accommodate their wishes as much as I could by taking a leave here and an off there, whenever possible. And that’s how I found myself with a holiday on a Tuesday morning with nothing to do but stay home and watch TV. And utterly bored of the reality shows on music TV channels, and music shows on news channels, I decided to try and renew my acquaintance with some old friends I had not been in contact with much. The person who suddenly popped into my mind was my old friend Rajesh, an area-friend I grew up with. He had drifted into the world of television and the last time we had talked to each other, had boasted that he had by then directed at least 300 episodes of Tamil mega serials. And when I expressed my astonishment at his still remaining so sane and cheery after that impossible feat, he had invited me to go visit his shooting spot one day to see in person what goes on in the making of a TV soap serial. So that morning utterly fed up on with what was on TV I picked up the phone, made the call and invited myself to the shooting spot. 

As Rajesh had told me they were shooting their latest episode of a mega serial at a place called Tinnanur or Thirunindravur, at a distance of around 40kms from Chennai, I opted to skip breakfast and make an early start to beat the ever present traffic and be there in time. I need not have bothered for it was fine drizzling weather and I enjoyed the journey as much as reaching the destination. The reason, according to my friend Rajesh, for the popularity of this particular little town as a base for shooting all mega serials was because it is an up and coming vacation spot for Chennai’s rich and famous. For those who have an estate or two in the hills but find it difficult to travel all the way up there but are looking for a nearby vacation home, a garden house to spend the weekend communing with nature, places like Tinnanur were now becoming popular due to its proximity to the city. What at first glance looks like just another small town on the highway, something you pass by on your way to somewhere else, has garden houses and bungalows built on massive scales of 10-12 grounds and lavishly furnished all over, but closed all week until the owners come over to host their weekend parties. And these savvy millionaires also rent out their bungalows during their weekdays to Television production houses for shooting their mega serials and making enough pennies from the rent to pay their watchman, gardener and assorted housekeeping staff. You don’t become a millionaire without knowing a trick or two on money management right? 

Anyway, after I reached the shooting spot and after being warmly welcomed by my friend Rajesh, who at last showed off in front of me that he really was this big shot serial director, something for which he had waited a long time I suspect, we had breakfast with all the technicians. They were a cheerful bunch and looked to be having a lot of fun, which Rajesh explained was due to the absence of anyone from the production house that day to oversee the shoot. So when the cat is away mice are at play concept applies here too, was what to mind. Anyway, it was getting on to noon and I was still waiting to see my first scene canned, the reason I had traveled all the way on my vacation day. When I asked Rajesh about the absence of any actors on his set, he said mildly that his stars had already arrived (in fact, before me) and were in the make-up room getting ready. “What the?” I spluttered incoherently. But Rajesh patiently explained that their TV serial featured a big bunch of actresses who all vie with each other to look their bestest in front of the camera even when a scene calls for them to cry their eyes out. And as per protocol the junior most artiste will be the one to walk out of the makeup room first and to be followed by others in order of seniority. And as even the junior most actress took a minimum of at least two hours to get her face pancaked, none of the serial shoots started before noon. And right on cue, one by one of the actresses sauntered in, with their faces heavily made up and the makeup standing at least a couple of inches off their faces, unsupported. I took the time to reflect on my own television experience a few years ago when I had conned my way into a compeering job, for a breakfast show on a newly launched channel and the makeup guys after a cursory powdering of my face had sent me in front of the cameras after assuring me that I was a natural beauty and didn’t need much in the way of make-up. God, how naïve I was back then. And to think that I could have demanded and got at least an hour’s worth of makeup, if only I had known the secrets of the trade.

The shooting of the scenes for the day was a surprisingly fast job, for either the actresses were very good or my friend the director was easily satisfied as most scenes were canned with the first take itself. When they had shot up to a dozen related scenes in one smooth flow, a break for lunch was called and my friend insisted that I accompany him to the actors side of the dining room where he introduced me to the television actresses there as an up and coming film actor waiting for my big break. This was in reference to an old in-joke among us, where we had once promised each over endless cups of tea in our local tea shop, the Diamond tea bar in Mint Street, that when and if my friend Rajesh directed his first movie, he would launch me as his first hero. I was glad to find that he had not forgotten his old promise even after ten years or so and after life had taken us both in entirely different paths. He was now firmly ensconced as a TV serial director, making a good living with a steady income from it and unable (or even unwilling) to make the jump into the whirlpool of film direction, while I had long since given up on the idea of being in films and had gone away into a completely different career.

Anyway, after a post lunch cozy chit-chatting with the actresses, all of whom looked almost the same to me with their heavy makeup’s and identical sarees, I told my friend I now had a clear idea of what goes on behind the scenes at a TV serial shoot and so I would no longer disturb him at work but take my leave. He protested at this and wanted me to stay on as he shot a few more heavily emotional scenes but I declined the offer and told him I had to leave then to be in time for my evening practice. As he walked me back to my car, he enquired whether I would be willing to do a role for him, a doctor’s role in his serial. I stopped and told him in a careful voice that I would be damned if I ever acted the role of a doctor in a TV serial. That would be the end of my professional career. For any patient who came to see me after that, would always assume that I was just an actor masquerading as a doctor and would never believe that I am a real doctor. I also told my friend petty firmly that I would not do any itsy bitsy character role and would only play the protagonist's central role in a serial.

My friend told me that the protagonist's role is usually decided only when a new serial is launched and never added midway, at which I volunteered that I am perfectly willing to wait for a new serial to be launched, however long it took. He then told me that they were in the story discussions of a probable idea involving a historical serial, to be launched in the next few months, but it would require horse riding and sword fighting skills from the central character. I assured him that my horse riding was second to none and my sword fighting skills are to be seen to be believed. As I took my leave from him, in a solemn voice I asked him to remember that he had promised to launch me in films with his first film and because of that promise I had sentimentally declined so many other famous directors who had asked me to do their films. And then I laughingly told him that this was my audition scene to show off that I could still act convincingly and then I drove away from the shooting spot with a satisfied feeling that this was a vacation day well spent.

Now to start practicing sword fights and learn horse riding. Any tips anyone?

The Hidden Book Nook Of Anna Nagar

Like many of you I am a bookworm (bibliophile is too pretentious for me) and I am always to be found with a book or two within easy reach all over the house. I have over the years haunted all the famous secondhand bookshops and pavement bookshops all over the city to replenish my reading thirst on a limited budget, as a student and surviving on pocket money. Book buying was my only vice and what my peers used to spend on cigarettes and alcohol was in my case usually spent hunting up bargains on Moore market or at Triplicane’s Wallajah Road pavement shops. When I got my first job and started seeing some serious money, I felt my status improve enough to saunter into the iconic Higginbothams in mount road or landmark’s flagship store (the original branch) at Nungambakam, browse in the comfort of air-condition and buy divinely smelling new books without worrying about the cost (most often marked in dollars and pounds). As time passed and I grew more prosperous and busier I shifted over to the convenience of reading e-books by downloading them off the net.

But however convenient an e-book reader is compared to a physical book with backlighting, highlighting, automatic bookmarking etc, the feel of holding a book in your hand and turning over the pages as fast as you can (to read the thrilling climax) will never be achieved. Hence I keep going back to the pavement shops again and again, hunting for good bargains and sometimes for some unknown author who surprises me. I also hunt down if possible the missing from my collection editions of books I read in a series. Some rare gems can often be discovered serendipitously in second hand bookshops, something for which I would have been looking for years and suddenly would chance upon one day.

And today based on a friend’s recommendation I happened to visit a secondhand bookshop which had a absolute gem of a selection of books. If you have ever passed through Anna Nagar Roundtana, you might have noticed the round building which gives it its name. in the basement of the building, there is a bookshop called by the name of its owner Moorty’s. I have passed by the place numerous times but never really went down the steps to the dark basement and entered the shop. Till today, when an out of town friend happened to mention that he had heard about the shop from a colleague and curiosity piqued I finally went down those dark steps and entered Moorty’s book nook.

First of all, let me tell you, that the bookshop is every bargain hunter’s idea of heaven. It’s overflowing with books, cartons and cartons of it boxed and piled everywhere and even the owner is not sure of what box contains what. Every kind of imaginable subject is there including all the bestsellers. And best of all these books are all originals in newly minted condition and not pirated photocopies. As Mr.Moorty the owner tells, he gets the unsold books directly from all the big publishing houses in mint condition from their warehouses and sells them at a marked down price of 60%-70% which is quite a bargain when it comes to the international bestsellers. A crisp new novel at less than half the prize you get at the big bookshops, what more are you looking for. So booklovers and bibliophiles, if you are looking for good bargains and have a limited budget head over to Moorty’s bookshop at Anna Nagar Roundtana. It’s even open on Sundays, so what’s your excuse?

P.S. As Mr.Moorty is an old man and says he would be the last of his family to be running this shop let’s hope that the shop stays open for many more years. Otherwise one more forgotten landmark of our Madras city will disappear forever.