Atria – The Millennium Mall – Commercial

Although I had come to be in movies with big stars, I let myself get roped into one more commercial. This was for the Atria Mall.

I had passed this striking edifice on my way to (losing my since-recovered passport in) Colaba from the airport, and had been suitably impressed. On my previous trip to India five years ago, I had searched in vain for a mall experience worthy of my basest JAP impulses. India had made the leap into the mall age, and I had to see it for myself.

Although by far the most notable mall, it was not the only one I managed to find in my non-sadhu moments. Of note are also the InOrbit mall in far-off Malad, and Infiniti mall in Anheri.

It was the same crew from the day before, which shot Chillz Ice Cream. The director, my namesake was also there. They remembered me as needing only to be instructed once, and asked if I could drive a car. Another moment of triumph put me behind the wheel of a two-seater red Honda sports car, beside a very sweet, blond Norwegian girl. Later, I found out that the car was made at a factory that also produced testosterone on an industrial scale: a V6 2.5 liter engine, and all I had to do for six hours was drive very slowly up and down in front of the entrance. I would rather have really driven that car, preferably on a traffic-free coastal highway, but at least I was sitting down for this portion of the shoot, even though it must have been 35 Celsius outside.

During one of the many waiting periods, I also had the good fortune to meet two exceedingly nice Iranian women. Only one, Azzade, spoke reasonable English, and of course I relished the chance to befriend people from so-called "enemy countries".

As it turns out, Azzade had left Iran some years before, and had taught art in Islamabad, Pakistan for some time. She had briefly returned to Iran , but was shocked at the direction our (true) enemy Mahmoud Ahmedinejad was taking the country. Here she finds herself in India, hoping for asylum. I gave her the Immigration website, and I'm still thinking good visa thoughts for her.

Also present were Paris from the previous day, Zoran the Bavarian from Jodhaa Akbar, and another guy originally from San Francisco. They are part of a group of professional actors that are living long-term in Bombay, making a decent living in this industry. However, my questions about contacts and figures has made them somewhat suspicious of my motives, and rightly so. I can act, dance, speak more Hindi than them, and must strike them as an over-achiever who could easily "threaten" their position if I put my mind to it (a stupid suspicion, if ever there was one). It doesn't help that they have no refuge in a foreign language in my presence. Their gaze reminded me of a feeling I remember from my translator days in Brazil.

All said, the day's shooting went quite well, and I ascertained, by methods just short of Chinese water torture, that with a combination of luck and chutzpah, one could easily earn between $1000 - $3000 a month from acting, not a bad sum for India. With more luck and perseverance, plenty more was possible. I took note.