Word: bollywood
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...Friday night, and the big theater was jammed with Indian fans awaiting the premiere of the new year's big movie. Bollywood princess Aishwarya Rai was greeted with a bouquet of roses from a city official and audience cries of "We love you, Ash!" Abhishek Bachchan, a rising actor and son of Indian film legend Amitabh Bachchan, enters to girlish squeals not heard since Hrithik Roshan last went topless in public. Mani Ratnam, who is internationally the most revered writer-director of Indian films, said a few words. Composer A R Rahman, whose hundred or so film scores have made...
...ritzy premiere such as this would typically take place in Mumbai (Bombay) or in Ratnam's home town Chennai (Madras). But Bollywood films have eyes to be as popular in America as in India, Indonesia, the Middle East and North Africa, where they dominate cinematic culture. So the principals of Guru had come 7,800 miles to the Empire 25 theater just off Times Square in New York City to flack their film this weekend. (They'd been in Toronto the evening before.) Then Abhishek and Ash flew back to India, where, in a flourish that Brad and Angelina might...
...Ambani. Known as Dhirubhai, Ambani rose from rural nobody to towering tycoon without the usual benefits of family wealth, education or connection. He was the founder and chairman of Reliance Industries, manufacturer of the polyester that clothed India (and in the 70s lent its kitchy style to tight-pantsed Bollywood actors like Amitabh). By Dhirubhai's death in 2002, Reliance was India's largest corporation, a leader in petrochemicals and a dozen other interests and the largest corporation. A Times of India poll in 2000 chose him as Greatest Creator of Wealth in the Century...
...traffic jam the results are spectacular: an almost continuous blast of horns, deep and tinny, near and far. The bass of a bus mixes with the thin shrieks of a motor scooter. Add in the noise of rasping truck brakes, the sweet tinkle of bicycles and rickshaws, the wailing Bollywood music pumped out by kids in their new cars, the reverberating bangs and cries of touts beating on the sides of buses for business, the siren of an ambulance vainly trying to push its way through the heaving mass and the general, constant growl of traffic and you have...
Several weeks ago, I found myself in the company of Mukesh “Mark” Mehta while on Christmas Break in Montana. Mark’s Great Falls home—he has one in Bombay, too—is a labyrinthine world wherein the twains of Bollywood and the American West meet. There is the print of Charlie Russell’s “Lewis and Clark Meeting the Flatheads” in one corner—a coming-together between “Indian-Feather and Indian-Dot,” Marks notes gleefully while...