I'm a Master in India

For Raj, movies were always closely linked to love and death.

Some were encouraged by their families and persevered in Bollywood. Others committed suicide in despair, disappearing without a trace.

When Raj was young, whenever an important person passed away, the school would have a day off, and they would go to the cinema to watch movies.

Raj's home was in Andheri East, not far from Juhu, where many struggling, unknown artists rented apartments.

In the past, extras would brag to them, "We're from Bollywood."

The young Raj was once completely taken in by the boastful strivers, and he felt particularly disillusioned when he grew up and learned that these people were "nothing more than migrant workers."

He now often saw these people in bars in Andheri, such as the illegally operated Yari Road Winery and the Ulvashi Beer Bar.

They still sat behind dirty curtains, drinking nine-rupee bottles of Desi liquor, dreaming of conquering the world.

They would boast to their drinking buddies, who were also strivers, "I'm going to shoot a movie with Amitabh Bachchan tomorrow."

Raj was amazed by their ability to only report good news over the years; you rarely heard about their failures.

The slightly more successful strivers lived in a few specific hotels, rumored to bring good luck.

Their daily simple meal was roughly as follows: an eight-rupee platter with rice, six puri breads or two chapati flatbreads, plus a spoonful of lentil paste.

If the owner was particularly generous, they would give you a small dish of thin yogurt and two spoonfuls of vegetables. If you found the right place to eat, you didn't have to worry about nutritional imbalance.

If the boss was in a good mood, sometimes they would even give you dessert. For the struggling extras, the restaurant run by the old pastor was their best choice; for twenty rupees, they could eat a delicious biryani.

One of the male leads Raj introduced to Ron lived nearby; he was a true striver named Lanka.

Lanka wasn't actually a true Indian; he was an overseas Indian who had emigrated to Dubai with his family when he was a child.

His family ran a fabric business there and could earn 70,000 rupees a month, making them truly wealthy.

However, after the Gulf War, business became sluggish, so he decided to return to Mumbai to try his luck.

He had dreamed of being a movie star since he was sixteen, repeatedly poring over the celebrity inserts in "Screen" magazine in his spare time.

Soon after, his uncle, who worked as an advertising planner in Mumbai, helped him get a modeling opportunity. Lanka did a photo shoot and earned eight hundred rupees.

For a young man from Jaipur, these eight hundred rupees meant far more than their purchasing power.

Two years ago in Dubai, the owner of the supermarket next to his family's fabric shop had said to Lanka, "This shop is just a resting place for you. You'll rest here briefly, stay for a while, and then you should be on your way. Your destination isn't here; someday you'll achieve great things."

The seed in his heart finally began to sprout, and Lanka left Dubai, going to Mumbai alone.

He brought money with him and attended various training classes, such as dance classes, martial arts classes, and acting classes.

The monthly fee for dance class was one thousand rupees, for martial arts class it was five thousand rupees for three months, and for acting class it was fifteen thousand rupees.

The martial arts class taught Taekwondo, and the coach would take the students to the beach to teach them movie fight techniques, such as how to leap, roll on the ground, and swing their arms and fists.

Lanka always thought that his martial arts instructor, Roshan, saw something special in him, because for the first year he kept Lanka as his assistant.

Although it was voluntary, Lanka still felt very honored.

He received offers for low-budget films and TV series, but Lanka had a clear goal: he wanted to be the male lead in a big Bollywood production.

He persevered for a year, and slowly, the offers for those low-budget films and TV series also stopped coming.

Not much was left of the two hundred thousand rupees he had brought from Dubai, and he moved from a single room hotel to a one-room apartment in Andheri, squeezing in with thirteen other people.

After that, Lanka did meet a producer who promised him the male lead role in his next film.

Every two months, Lanka would ask the producer about the film's progress and was always told that they were "still looking for a director."

They didn't find a director, but Lanka stopped actively pursuing other roles, always believing that the opportunity to turn things around was close at hand.

He waited for a full six months, during which he lost all his other acting contracts.

Lanka was somewhat disheartened, and his family and friends also advised him to give up and return to Dubai to do the fabric business in a down-to-earth manner.

After considering it, Lanka decided to stay in Mumbai. He knew that once he left, he would never be able to return.

Reality is like this: no matter how humble you are, life will make you even more humble.

After two years of continuous wasted time, Lanka even had difficulty getting the TV drama extra roles he had once disdained.

Despite this, Lanka still went to the gym or ran outdoors every morning to keep his body fit, or at least look fit.

He always put a lot of effort into his wardrobe and then updated a set of his professional photos every week.

He carried these photos with him to deliver to the offices of various producers.

Lanka knew the fate of his photos very well; after all, there were thousands upon thousands of people like him entering and leaving offices, shamelessly trying to make a living.

But getting his photos into an album, and then getting selected from that album, was the first step for a striver on the path to acting, and he had to do it.

To be honest, Lanka wasn't sure when he would gain the favor of a production company.

A major reason he persevered was to comfort himself in failure by saying that he had tried.

Yes, his family in Dubai was urging him to go back again, and his brother was even planning to come to Mumbai next month.

Raj once asked Lanka if he had considered returning to Dubai.

"I still love India," he said, his tone guilty, like a husband admitting infidelity to his wife.

Lanka didn't know if he was wavering; he didn't dare to think deeply, only using fitness, acting classes, and submitting photos to keep himself busy.

Then, on a normal afternoon, Raj called him to tell him about an audition for the male lead in a low-budget film.

At that moment, Lanka was both surprised and delighted, and didn't know what to do.

He immediately started daydreaming, fantasizing about how he would act when the clapperboard clapped and the director said "Action!"

Lanka had once scoffed at these low-budget films, but after being beaten down by life, he had learned to be humble.

Almost immediately, he started getting ready, and after preparing thoroughly, he drove off in his dilapidated Ambassador car.

The car had a large rust spot on the hood and the doors creaked when closed, but Lanka still paid to maintain it.

After two years of struggling in Bollywood, he was already familiar with every unspoken rule here.

To enter a production company, you first had to have a car; the doorman would not only let you in but also salute you.

If you took a taxi, the doorman would make you turn around. If you took a rickshaw, he would question you endlessly. If you simply walked, you couldn't even dream of entering the company gate.

When Lanka was in Dubai, people called him "Boss." But in Mumbai, he was the one calling people "Sir" one after another.

For strivers, this was life; you had to learn to flatter.

When the rattling Ambassador car arrived at the gate of the address Raj had given him, Lanka hesitated slightly.

Red Sausage Agency?

Why wasn't it a production company? It was the first time he had encountered an audition being held at an agency.

Although he thought this, Lanka still honked the horn.

The sleepy doorman jolted awake. He instinctively raised his hand in a salute and then waved him through.

Lanka parked the car and walked briskly up the stairs with a few printed papers in his hand.

When he arrived at the room, he saw several people sitting there, seemingly discussing a script.

To his surprise, there were two foreign women there, very young. From where they were sitting, they seemed to have a high status.

Lanka greeted them and sat down obediently. Across from him, Ron and the others were also sizing up this newcomer.

He was fashionably dressed, wore earrings, had a golden teddy bear pendant around his neck, and looked full of energy.

Clearly, the other party exercised regularly and maintained a very good physique.

Ron didn't speak but gave the floor to Shiv Kumar, who was the director of this film.

The audition process was by the book. Shiv and Mary respectively had Lanka perform a piece of dialogue, a dance, a fight scene, and a song.

The overall assessment was very good, at least more reliable than the previous few.

"Hymn to Durga" had fight scenes, song and dance, and a theme song. With a limited budget, the male lead needed to be multifaceted.

Coincidentally, Lanka had attended corresponding training classes for all of these. Whether he was professional or not was another matter, but at least he could do a couple of moves.

Having many skills is never a burden, and Bollywood also values this.

"You've been selected," Ron announced directly.

"Sir, I... I..." Lanka stammered a little. He had anticipated this scenario, but he didn't expect it to come so quickly.

"The film has a limited budget, your salary is sixteen thousand rupees, is that okay?" Ron asked.

"No problem!" Lanka said decisively.

"The crew will head to Uttar Pradesh in a week. The estimated filming period is forty-five days. Pack your bags," Director Shiv ordered directly.

"Okay!" Lanka agreed without hesitation.

"The salary will be paid after the film is released. During filming, except for accommodation and food, other expenses are on you," Mary added.

"Understood." Lanka still had no objection.

This was one of Bollywood's unwritten rules: before the film was released, salary was non-negotiable.

If the box office exploded, then naturally everything was easy to talk about. If the box office failed miserably, then Lanka's salary would be zero rupees.

That's right, the magical Bollywood operated like this.

Although Ron had just gained a profit of twenty million rupees in his pocket, that was a separate matter.

He treated both a ten-rupee business and a hundred-thousand-rupee business with the same dedication and impartiality.

The female lead, Urmila Matondkar, was relatively well-known after all, and her salary was two hundred thousand rupees.

Some people took a large share, so naturally others took a small share, after all, actor salaries only accounted for a fixed percentage.

The remaining money had to be spent on crucial areas, otherwise it would be difficult to ensure the film was completed.

The preparation of the crew was nearing its end, and Ron was also about to set off for Uttar Pradesh.

However, before leaving, he had to say hello to his close friends.