I'm a Master in India

Raj really liked Juhu, especially the beach here.

He didn't mind spending the entire afternoon by the pool at the Sun-n-Sand Hotel, especially since the vodka and chicken sandwiches didn't cost him a thing.

It wasn't like he was freeloading; Raj repaid the cost of his drinks and food by selling other people's stories, with plenty left over.

As his good friend Shiv Kumar described him, Raj was the "God of the Strikers."

His identity as a columnist for 'Screen' magazine gave him unrestricted access in Bollywood.

He was a messenger between two worlds, a conduit connecting the upper and lower classes of Mumbai.

Judging solely by his appearance, Raj was far from imposing; he seemed crude and sleazy.

He had a full beard, never bothered to button his shirt properly, looked like a sloppy smuggler, and his crossed eyes were also quite off-putting.

When he looked at you, you couldn't tell where he was looking.

But Raj's writing was first-rate; as the saying goes, you can't judge a book by its cover. His columns read like sermons, full of a sacred sense of mission and noble morality.

When Shiv Kumar brought Ron and the others to find him, Raj was chatting animatedly with a waiter.

"Raj, you're scamming stories again," Shiv sat down and unceremoniously poured himself a drink.

"How can you say I'm scamming?" Raj pointed at the waiter who had just left. "That guy has a belly full of stories, just waiting for someone to confide in."

"So, what did you hear?"

"A failed declaration from a dreamer, but there are thousands like him in Mumbai."

"You're talking so much you could write a whole report. Let me introduce you to two friends."

Shiv intended to introduce Ron and Mary, but Raj stood up to greet them himself.

"Dr. Sur, I've heard a lot about you. Miss Mary, Bollywood's first foreign talent agency."

"Hello," Ron and Mary shook hands with him respectively.

They sat down, and after getting Ron's permission, Shiv handed the script to Raj.

"Take a look at this."

"Oh, a religious film."

Raj was very familiar with low-budget films and the Shudra and Dalit classes who made them. Flipping through the 'Screen' magazine next to him, promotional pages for low-budget films were everywhere.

Yes, typically, it was the Dalit class who made adult films. Religious films were slightly better, but Raj was still surprised that Ron would venture into this business.

"The script is fine. People in North and Central India will like it. Films like this often sell better than blockbusters there.

However, Mr. Sur, with your status, you could completely invest in those blockbusters."

"I'm just starting out," Ron shrugged. "Besides, low-budget films are easier to control."

Raj understood. That was true. If he invested in a blockbuster, Ron would just be a shareholder with no decision-making power over the filming.

But the real situation was that Ron didn't have that much money to waste; Mary and the others had already researched it.

Making a blockbuster in Bollywood starts at a minimum of 40 million rupees, and super blockbusters can even exceed 100 million rupees.

Mid-budget films have an investment scale of around 30 million, and anything below 10 million rupees is considered a low-budget film.

Where would Ron get that much money to invest in blockbusters? Without putting in 10 or 20 million rupees, he wouldn't even be at the table.

"How much is your budget?" Raj asked.

"Three million rupees."

"Filming location?"

"Uttar Pradesh."

"If that's the case, it's barely enough," Raj was experienced; he had already calculated the expenses in his head.

"So regarding the male lead, do you have any recommendations?" Shiv's tone was respectful.

His relationship with Raj was complex; the latter was his mentor, someone he could call both a teacher and a friend.

Shiv was also a striker who came to Mumbai initially, and Raj had sponsored him through college.

After graduating, Shiv first worked as a production assistant and then entered the directing field.

"Bollywood has no shortage of male leads; no matter the price range, there are hundreds, even thousands, waiting," Raj had dealt with countless Bollywood strivers.

"Our budget is limited, so..." Ron pretended to be hesitant.

"Don't worry, the salary won't exceed one lakh," Raj guaranteed.

Just as Shiv said, he was the protector of the strivers.

"Strivers" referred to those who wanted to make a name for themselves in Bollywood, whose ambitions were sky-high but whose lives were as thin as paper.

This was especially true for female strivers; out of a hundred actresses who came to Mumbai to try their luck, no more than ten would truly be fortunate.

The audition location was at the Sun-n-Sand Hotel behind them, which Ali preferred to call the "Suicide Hotel."

Because from time to time, actresses couldn't bear the blow of being rejected yet again and took their own lives in the hotel rooms.

For instance, Rita and Gita, who had been so eager to please and almost fawning when Ron ate with Chandra and the others last time, were already incredibly lucky.

Among these hundreds and thousands of Bollywood strivers, some had been extras, and some had played supporting roles.

It wasn't difficult to find a male lead with decent experience, talent, and looks; Raj could rattle off five or six names off the top of his head.

"I'll have them come to your place for auditions later," Raj motioned for them not to worry. "The important thing is the distribution after the film is completed."

"I plan to ask Director Lal to introduce some distributors," Ron replied.

"That would be best, of course, but don't be too optimistic about low-budget films."

"How so?" he asked.

"Censorship is an issue. If it can't be screened in those major theaters, distributors won't take it on."

"If it comes down to it, we'll distribute by region. For the states with strict censorship, we'll just sell the one-time distribution rights."

Indian films have five domestic distribution regions, plus one specifically for all overseas markets.

These five distribution regions are roughly divided by geography: East, West, South, North, and Central, and each market is different.

North and Central India speak Hindi, East India speaks Bengali and Assamese, South India speaks Tamil and Telugu, and West India is mainly Marathi.

Ron and the others were naturally making a Hindi film, with the main market in North and Central India. For other areas, they could just sell the one-time distribution rights.

Since the languages were different, even if they went the route of box office revenue sharing, the income wouldn't be much.

"That's a good approach. It seems the focus is on North India," Raj agreed.

"I'm from Uttar Pradesh," Ron spread his hands.

"Then there's even less of a problem," Raj had no doubt about his capabilities in the local area.

"We'll also need to trouble you with the film's promotion after production," Ron glanced at the 'Screen' magazine next to him.

Raj smiled, "I'll write the column myself then."

"That's truly too kind of you," Ron and Mary were both very happy.

In just one week, they had finalized the script, director, female lead, and the direction for distribution and promotion.

The male lead also seemed to be in sight; the preparation progress for the entire film was astonishingly fast.

After returning to the agency, they called for the screenwriter, Ravy, and started discussing the script details again.

The story was very cliché. It took place in a village where a wealthy family had two brothers. The younger brother's wife was shrewish and bossy, while the elder brother's wife was virtuous and kind. The younger brother dreamed of going to America.

One day, a wandering monk passed through the village and sang the Durga Stuti (Praise of Durga). The villagers, inspired, came to worship the goddess, and the younger brother was among them.

The goddess answered his prayer, and immediately a telegram arrived from the American headquarters saying there was a job opening.

The virtuous and kind-hearted elder sister-in-law then sold her dowry and bought airplane tickets to America for her brother-in-law, his wife, and child.

Years later, the family, whose every word and action had become Westernized, returned from America, shipping a suitcase full of money to save the elder brother's declining business in their hometown.

But as inevitably happens when shipping valuables, their luggage was lost by the airline. A bolt from the blue!

The story began with this, narrating various scenes of the male and female protagonists fighting against evil forces with the divine intervention of Durga.

If you had to use one word to summarize the script, it would be 'absurd'.

Divine intervention, devout prayer—it was simply ridiculous.

If it were placed in other countries, people would probably just treat it as a mythological tale and laugh it off.

But Indians believed in this kind of thing; they truly believed in the existence of Durga.

Therefore, the story needed to be filmed with dramatic twists and turns while also showing respect and faith towards the mythological figure.

However, the ultimate goal of making a film was to make money.

"'Praise of Durga' is too serious a name; it's not entertaining enough," Ron suggested.

"But we're making a religious film," Mary had some reservations.

"We can also give the film different names depending on the region," Shiv suggested.

"Wow, that's a great idea," Ron's eyes lit up.

He had almost forgotten that this was another common practice in Indian cinema. Because of different languages and cultural customs in various states, the translated title of the same film also differed.

After some discussion, the group finally decided on three names for the film.

In rural areas, it would be called 'Praise of Durga'. In urban areas like Mumbai, it would become 'Foreign Mother-in-Law, Local Wife'.

In Sikh regions like Punjab, it would simply be changed to 'Divine Miracle'.

This made it much more relatable; audiences in different regions could connect with it in their own way.

Besides these, there was another major core element in the film's preparation.

That was the music. Don't be fooled by the fact that it was a low-budget religious film.

But songs and dances would definitely be included; otherwise, who would watch it?

People in rural India were illiterate; without lively songs and dances, they would feel like they were missing out.

They might not understand the complex plot, but they would definitely understand the songs and dances.

Preliminary estimates suggested Ron's film would also need five songs and three song-and-dance sequences.

This would require professionals; relying on their own ideas wouldn't work at all.

Ron planned to bother Old Lal again, and Mary and Shiv would also invite other music directors from Bollywood.

They would work separately, striving to resolve this issue within two weeks.

Time had entered June, and the oppressive monsoon clouds were brewing over Mumbai.

Torrential rain could fall at any moment, and the restless city finally quieted down a bit.

However, for Ron, it wasn't all bad news.

Sur Electronics' payment from the previous month was about to arrive.