A Bollywood moment

I discovered Bollywood musicals at a very young age. When her house was empty, my nextdoor neighbour Sharnveer and I would delve into her mum’s wardrobe, pulling out high heels that were too big for us and chunis, large scarves made of chiffon or silk: bright pinks and orange for her, deep greens and turquoise for me. Then we’d go for the videos, again her mum’s own collection, and stand in front of the television trying to copy the dances from a variety of Indian films.
We were terrible, being aged around eight (me) and ten (Sharn) and severely hampered by the shoes, however lovely they were. We’d smack into one another more often than not. But in our heads we were delicately spinning through fountain-filled gardens, coyly peeking at handsome young men and stroking peacocks. Danger in the films came from corrupt politicians or wicked uncles. In real life the heart-stopping thrills were provided by the sound of a car slowing at the end of our cul-de-sac: we weren’t supposed to go through her mum’s stuff or mess with the video recorder.
The Bollywood dream is one of pure escapism: there are around 3.6 billion people world wide watching these films for the same sort of thrills as those two little girls in the mid-1980s. The most famous singers in the genre such as Asha Bhosle (the very Asha that Cornershop’s ‘Brim Full Of Asha’ is about) have recorded hundreds of albums. The Bollywood sound itself evolves like a soup made by an over-enthusiastic cook: the basic stock may remain the same, but ingredients are added at random: Indian classical, samba, electropop, old-fashioned rock and roll – anything that catches the eye or the ear. Bollywood is very big business – it will always adapt and survive.
This week, if you’re in Europe, you’ll notice the rather lovely graphic with the spinning elephants, urging you to check out eMusic’s vast collection of Bollywood scores. You should, we’ve got some really amazing stuff. And for anyone else who’s interested click here.