Actor Karim Haji, 40, grew up in the suburb of Bandra in Mumbai. He remembers a boy from his neighborhood, Salman Khan. Karim and his brother Amin hung out in many of the same places as the Khan brothers, and went for a while to the same gym as Salman. He remembers Arbaaz as the one who was expected to make it big as an actor; Salman, he says, was considered not as handsome, but he had ‘junoon’.

This was in the late 1980s. Now, Salman Khan is arguably the biggest superstar in Bollywood. And Haji, who was also an aspiring actor, is still struggling for a place in the Bollywood sun. Nearly every day, Haji gets up in the morning and heads to Aaram Nagar, a Mumbai neighborhood he calls “the Mecca of auditions”. There, a few ramshackle cottages host the factories that produce much of Bollywood’s magic.
Haji joins the queues there, to audition for roles in ad or feature films. “It’s a dream to find only four other people auditioning for the role. Usually, there are 40. For better roles, there are 400,” he says. This is just the start of his daily struggle. “If you get two days of work after 20 days of auditions, it’s not bad,” he says. He has had occasional success; he was in the song Khwaja mere khwaja, in Jodhaa Akbar, and is now in a major ad.
So why does he do it? “Passion,” he says.
Nothing except undying passion can sustain anyone through the Bollywood struggle. It is a legendary struggle, in a city whose myths speak of benches and pavements that the greatest icons of yesteryear slept on.
Thousands of hopefuls come to Mumbai every year hoping to make the same magical journey from penniless unknown to millionaire superstar.
The chances of success, according to director Gaurav Bakshi, are like the chances of being the one sperm in a million that fertilizes the egg. “It is hugely competitive. The entry barriers are not barriers but fortifications,” he says. Sitting in a coffee shop in Aaram Nagar, he says, “If you throw a stone here, it will bounce off two writer-directors and hit 18 actors.”
Bakshi has seen the struggle for five years. He has an MBA from the Indian Institute of Management, Bangalore, and spent 14 years in multinational firms. He was bothered during this time by a nagging question: what if he hadn’t got into IIM? “I always wanted to explore my creative side,” he says. “I felt I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t.” And so, he took the plunge. Now, five years on, he has managed to work in three films —Love Khichdi, Oye Lucky Lucky Oye and Ishqiya. He is waiting to make his own film. This is where it gets really hard, he says, because “it depends entirely on other people. Someone has to trust you with their money.” The world of Bollywood, he says, is “glam from the outside, hard work inside”.
The crucial quality required in this world, according to both Haji and Bakshi, is patience, and grit to stay the course. Money and fame come to only the star of the film and the director; no one knows the names of the rest, says Bakshi. The only reason to do the job is the joy of creative expression.
It is a world of idols and idol worship, says Vinay Mishra, founder of Humaramovie.com. His office has a fairly basic studio setup, and sees a steady stream of Bollywood hopefuls. He remembers a man who claimed to be the relative of a famous Bollywood personality, and came and handed him a bunch of scripts. “All were stories like, ‘I prayed, I went out of the door, and there was a sack of cash’,” says Mishra. That man’s not had his prayers answered, perhaps because he lacks the spark ... but his stories tell an essential Bollywood truth. Here, luck is often the magic ingredient that separates stardom from oblivion.