It was a fabulously Orientalist evening. The occasion was the premier of Cotton Mary; directed by Ismail Merchant, it is the latest offering to world cinema from the house of Merchant-Ivory. There was theatre first, and cinema -- very good cinema at that -- afterwards. All in all, it was the kind of dotty event that perhaps can take place only in Bombay. Yet, despite the absurd prelude to the actual screening of the film, it was difficult to be cynical about the shenanigans, for the proceeds of the Merchant-Ivory festival go the coffers of the non-governmental organisation, CRY. Of course, largesse does not in itself good cinema make, but the sentiment is, undoubtedly, noble and ought to be recognised as such. In honour of the event, the entrance of Bombay's Sterling cinema had been converted to make it look (and sound) like a wedding hall. The steps were strewn with a carpet of lush orange flowers, resplendent in the glaringly bright lights set up for a movie camera. Smoke swirled around from some indeterminate source and the smell of incense hung in the air. Near the booking counter for the balcony tickets, four gentlemen, torsos bare and clad in dhotis, banged away at percussion instruments. A little distance away, two well-built species of homo sapiens of male gender, in white safari suits and dark glasses, fussed around, looking busy and secretive. At the foot of the stairs, some distance away from the action, a dishevelled junkie lolled about in his rags, indifferent to the festivities. The banging of drums went on, seemingly interminable, and the smoke began to hurt one's eyes. The audience now began to fidget impatiently. Almost as if on cue, Parmeshwar Godrej arose out of nowhere and lit an unsuspecting lamp to the sound of handclaps and the flash of photographers' lightbulbs. The crowd poured into the movie hall. In the foyer, one saw a veritable smorgasbord of Bombay's celebrities, minor and major. Actors and actresses, stars of yesteryear, models, bureaucrats, one rock star and the doyens of industry and advertising rubbed shoulders, shook hands and grazed cheeks. The average conversation was something like this: "Hallooo, how are you? What's up? Where have you been????" "Fine. Nothing much. Around" "Really!!! How interesting! That's great!" The women told each other how wonderful they looked. The men shook hand grimly, patted each other's backs and spoke about work. In the midst of all this, Leela Naidu walked in, as beautiful and dignified as ever. Into the theatre, and there were a couple of speeches that followed. To begin with, there was a sweet thank you to Ismail Merchant from CRY. Then Ameen Sayani, the background voice of India, was called on to introduce Ismail Merchant, which he did in the manner of a Shakespeare soliloquy. Ismail looked embarrassed at each of Ameen's vocal peaks and troughs, but he quietly took the mike in the wake of all the sturm und drang. Ismail was his usual soft-spoken, dignified and charismatic self as he introduced the cast and crew and acknowledged the contributions of various individuals to the film. James Wilby, who plays a character in the film, was then asked to come onstage. James, like many others before him, said he was very excited to be in India. A couple of other Anglo-Saxons of the British and American variety were also called on stage. They also said how honoured and pleased they were to be in India. Then came the announcement that the holder of pass B6 had won a vacation in Kerala. Then, finally, the movie began. The show was on. But that is an other story. Rohit Chopra is a no-frills man.
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