Dutt, popular for his role as a do-good gangster in the
“Munnabhai” films, was sentenced to six years jail in 2007 for
acquiring illegal weapons from men convicted for the 1993
attacks that killed 257 people.

He served 18 months but then was out on bail, fighting the
conviction until a court in March ordered him back to jail.

Projects worth up to 2.5 billion rupees ($46 million) and
the fate of several Bollywood movies hung in the balance after
the March ruling, but the actor was said to have wrapped up
filming for most pending projects in the last few weeks.

But at least one film, the third “Munnabhai” comedy in which
Dutt was to reprise his role, has been put on the back burner.

Dutt returned to prison late on Thursday night. He was later
expected to be moved to a jail in the western city of Pune.

Clad in white kurta pyjamas and sporting a traditional Hindu
“tilak” mark on his forehead, Dutt waved at waiting reporters
before leaving his house amid heavy security. The actor was
accompanied by his wife and sister.

Television showed Dutt being taken to a Mumbai court. He was
swamped by media at the court complex and had to beg reporters
to move back so that he could get out of his car.

“I have to surrender,” the actor said, gesturing with folded
hands. “Please move back! I need to go upstairs.”

The beefy action hero was the most high profile of 100
people involved in the Mumbai bombings trial, which ended in 12
people receiving the death penalty and lifetime sentences for
others.

In 2007, Dutt was cleared of conspiracy charges in the
attacks but found guilty of illegal possession of an AK-56 rifle
and a pistol, which he claimed he required to protect himself
and his family during a period of rioting in Mumbai.

In March, the Supreme Court reduced the 53-year-old actor’s
sentence to five years and ordered him back to jail, but in
April it gave the actor four extra weeks of freedom to finish
some of his Bollywood films. A last-ditch petition was dismissed
by the court on Tuesday.

Dutt is best known for his turn in “Lage Raho Munnabhai”, a
comedy about a gangster espousing Gandhian values that won the
popular film prize at the National Film Awards for 2006.

(Additional reporting by Shilpa Jamkhandikar; Writing by Tony
Tharakan, Editing by Elaine Lies and Michael Perry)

Dutt, popular for his role as a do-good gangster in the “Munnabhai” films, was sentenced to six years jail in 2007 for acquiring illegal weapons from men convicted for the 1993 attacks that killed 257 people.

He served 18 months but has been out on bail ever since, fighting the conviction.

In March, the Supreme Court reduced the 53-year-old actor’s sentence to five years and ordered him back to jail, but in April the court gave the actor four extra weeks of freedom to finish some of his Bollywood films. A last-ditch petition was dismissed by the court on Tuesday.

Bollywood had reacted with shock to news of Dutt’s sentencing with the actor seen by some fans as a victim of his star lineage and fame.

With two failed marriages and a history of drug abuse in his young days, Dutt is seen as the film industry’s enfant terrible who failed to handle the pressure of being a celebrity child. His father Sunil was a popular actor-politician who married actress Nargis.

Clad in white kurta pyjamas and sporting a traditional “tilak” on his forehead, Dutt waved at waiting reporters before leaving his house amid heavy security on Thursday. The actor was accompanied by wife Manyata and sister Priya, a ruling Congress lawmaker from Mumbai.

Television channels broadcast footage of Dutt being taken to a Mumbai court in a grey-black vehicle. The actor was swamped by media at the court complex and had to beg reporters to move back so that he could get out of his car.

“I have to surrender,” the actor said, gesturing with folded hands. “Please move back! I need to go upstairs.”

TV channels said Dutt was taken to a prison in Mumbai at night but was expected to be transferred to another in Pune.

The beefy action hero was the most high profile of 100 people involved in the Mumbai bombings trial which ended in 12 people receiving the death penalty and lifetime sentences for others.

In 2007, Dutt was cleared of conspiracy charges in the attacks but found guilty of illegal possession of an AK-56 rifle and a pistol, which he claimed he required to protect himself and his family during a period of rioting in Mumbai.

The actor is best known for his turn in “Lage Raho Munnabhai”, a comedy about a gangster espousing Gandhian values that won the popular film prize at the National Film Awards for 2006.

Dutt, who has 1.1 million fans on Twitter, hasn’t tweeted since March.

Projects worth up to 2.5 billion rupees and the fate of several Bollywood movies hung in the balance after the Supreme Court’s ruling in March but the actor was said to have wrapped up filming for most pending projects in the last few weeks.

At least one film, the third “Munnabhai” comedy in which Dutt was to reprise his role, has been put on the back burner.

(Additional reporting by Shilpa Jamkhandikar; Writing by Tony Tharakan)

By Danish Siddiqui

The Hindi film industry or Bollywood can make a star, a household name out of anyone overnight. It can bring instant money, fame and the fan-following of millions from across continents.

Bollywood is an addiction for many that attracts thousands of aspirants to the breeding grounds, the city of Mumbai, everyday. I was keen to look at this other side of the glamour world. The side that entails the struggle to enter the world of aspiring dreamers and their struggles to become a star.

There is no time limit to becoming a nationwide sensation, a star in Bollywood. As one of the aspirants told me it’s a gamble you take, forgetting all your worries about the results.

To shoot this story I had to do a lot of research. A lot has been written about these ‘strugglers’ but they haven’t been photographed yet, as ironically, they are camera-shy. Nobody wants to have a record of their struggle because they believe one day when they make it big, these records could be an embarrassment.

During the course of my assignment, I met at least thirty people who had different, amazing stories to tell about their struggles, but they had a common goal – to become a superstar.

I met 32-year-old Ram Pratap Verma, a Bollywood aspirant on one of my research trips to the beach where he was practicing gymnastics and martial arts. The first thing I noticed about him was his bag. The bag had ‘Journey’ written across on it. Ram had made the journey to tinsel town eight years ago from his small village, about 1500 kilometers (932 miles) from Mumbai.

Ram and I met a couple of times at a roadside tea stall. It was very difficult for me to convince him that I wanted to document his life as a Bollywood aspirant. After almost two dozen cups of tea I finally managed to convince him. I still wasn’t sure whether he would be himself in front of me. But like him, I took a gamble too.

Ram had his first brush with acting when he ran away from home to escape the beatings of his elder brother, and joined a local company of actors who performed religious plays in nearby villages. He lodged with them for two years before returning home.

For the first few days on my assignment, I didn’t take any pictures of Ram. I would just take the camera out and pretend like I was clicking. The whole exercise was to test Ram, to see whether he changed his behavior in front of the camera or acted normally. I noticed he felt conscious. I followed him everywhere with my camera for one week without capturing a single frame. Sure enough, after a while, Ram started feeling comfortable around me and the camera.

I would eat with Ram at roadside eateries, attend his training sessions, and auditions, hang out with him at the tailoring shop where he worked or the city park where he slept at nights.

I actually started shooting pictures of Ram about one month after meeting him. Our relationship had changed from a photographer and subject to friends. This helped me get a lot of access into in his life. Like visiting the tailoring shop where he sewed old clothes for half a day to earn money to travel to auditions, or watching as he saved lunch money by eating at a temple during community meals.

I noticed that Ram carried his home, his life, inside his bag which contained two shirts, one pair of trousers, two pairs of track pants, two t-shirts, a few documents and some toiletries. He had permission to sleep in a park from a local politician at whose birthday celebration he’d danced. Every day Ram practiced his martial arts and gymnastics on one of the famous beaches in Mumbai in the hope that someday a celebrity Bollywood producer or director would spot him while taking a walk or jog.

Many big Bollywood names have lived this kind of life and struggled hard before stardom beckoned. Ram draws inspiration from them. To keep his passion alive, he makes it a point every week to watch at least one film at a single screen cinema, where the ticket prices are cheaper compared to multiplexes. The giant screen at the cinema keeps his hopes alive.

If Ram’s is a struggle, this was also one of the most challenging stories I have worked on so far. Right from getting access to subjects or locations to photographing the struggle, or as the subjects suspected, their ‘failure’. What kept me going was the urge to tell the behind-the-scenes story of Bollywood. It required immense patience and sensitivity. But my biggest take-away from this assignment has been never get disheartened or scared from attempting to tell a story which is difficult. Dreaming big is quite regular stuff for many out there, I’ve learnt.

By Danish Siddiqui

Malajpur is a small but not ordinary village in central India. In fact it is probably the only village in India which has been hosting a ghost fair for the past several years. People from across the country come to this fair to get rid of ‘evil spirits’ that they claim to be possessed by.

As night falls on Paush Purnima (full moon night) the ‘possessed’ are taken to the local shrine to be exorcised. People who bring their relatives here feel the latter’s bodies have been ‘taken over by ghosts of the dead’ and that exorcism is the only release for them. Interestingly, most of those who come here to be exorcised are women. When I asked the priest the reason he said, “They are emotionally weak and hence easy target for spirits.”

On the first day when I went to the temple, it looked to me like any other temple complex. But suddenly from the middle of the crowd I heard a woman scream as she started running around the temple courtyard. According to priests the ghost inside people becomes weak the more they run around the courtyard in an anti-clockwise direction. For those who don’t run voluntarily (which is the case often) relatives or priests make them do so by pushing or kicking.

After a few rounds the possessed person is confronted by the priest on a sacred platform and if the answers are not satisfactory (questions include the name of the ghost and why he/she is hounding the person) the running continues.

Some people suffer “ghost attacks” which means they are fine one minute and the next they start jumping, screaming, crying or even attacking people. The temple becomes really chaotic just before dusk when more and more people are ‘attacked by ghosts’.

As night falls, the final stage of ghost-busting begins when the main priest confronts the possessed in a violent manner. He holds the hair of the person, asks them questions and then beats them with a broom which has a metal handle. Sometimes the possessed attack the priest.

When the priest thinks the ghost is finally in his control he makes it swear that if it returns, it will have to drink water from a lower caste resident’s home. Caste plays a prominent factor in Indian society and is used mostly to discriminate.

As the ghost leaves a body, the until now ‘possessed’ person falls back unconscious for 10-15 seconds. After he/she gets up, the priest offers holy water and the person walks away as if nothing happened.

At the fair, I had my own strange experience with ‘ghosts’ when a possessed woman tried to grab my camera! I don’t believe in ghosts but it is true that people who come to the Malajpur temple feel really satisfied with the treatment. I believe it’s all a matter of faith.

By Danish Siddiqui

When I first took pictures of this child couple in a small village in the desert state of Rajasthan in 2010, I had no idea that I would come back to this village again. But life had something else in store and I have been visiting them every year since, documenting the changes in their relationship and their surroundings.

When I went to their house last week I was greeted by the loud wailing of a baby. It was their four-month-old son Alok, which means enlightenment in Hindi. Last year when I visited them, I learned that Krishna, the child bride, was seven months pregnant. I wasn’t surprised at all but out of curiosity I asked Gopal, her husband, why he was in such a hurry to expand the family. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Nothing else to do, no work, life is so boring.” I was a bit taken aback.

Those like me who live in big cities and metros plan meticulously before taking the plunge into parenthood. And here this teenager was telling me that he wanted to have a child and risk his young wife’s life because of boredom. That, again, is a different India.

When I visited, I was happy that the parents, their family and even the neighbors were enjoying the presence of the little boy. Gopal told me that his wife was nearly on her deathbed after the delivery last year and her being alive now is nothing less than a miracle.

When I asked the 14-year-old mother if she’s happy she had a baby boy, Krishna nodded her head and said, “I wanted a girl but its okay now.” I was surprised by her response, as most people in both Indian cities and villages prefer boys over girls who they see as assets as opposed to girls who they consider liabilities or dependents.

During my visit, I noticed that 16-year-old Gopal had changed in the last couple of years. He started consuming alcohol a lot.

He hasn’t got any work, as even the soybean fields which his family owns are not that fertile now. The water level in their fields has gone down, resulting in irrigation problems. This time when I was in the village, Krishna broke down after her husband came home drunk and was trying to carry the baby. She was scared Gopal might drop his son.

I stayed with the couple for a day and then took them out of the village to shoot some portraits. It was the first time in four months that Krishna was stepping out.

I took the opportunity to ask Gopal about his future plans. He told me that for his family’s survival he needs to move out of the village and try to find some work in the city. When I asked him if he plans to have another baby he told me his first experience was scary enough for him and his wife.

As I left the small village, the only thing which bothered me was the future of four-month old Alok. Would he go down the same route his parents took or would he bend societal norms to carve a separate path for himself and his future partner?

If you are flying into Mumbai, the first thing you’ll see from mid-air are the visually beautiful rows of slums. I have always treated the slums and their inhabitants with respect.

GALLERY: MUMBAI’S SLUM LIFE

Every metropolitan city (at least in India) has slums, as more and more people travel to the cities for better opportunities. Unfortunately, not everyone is fortunate enough to live in a planned neighborhood.

Mumbai has a number of slums, the largest of which is called Dharavi. In fact, it is also one of Asia’s largest slums. I started photographing the slums of Dharavi when I moved to Mumbai two years ago. I tried to explore the slums block by block, lane by lane. I still haven’t finished half of it.

I have made a lot of friends in these slums, from screeching housewives to laborers in the recycling industry, to mafia men who control illegal businesses.

For me, photographing in slums is sometimes like getting lost in a space I have no inkling about. While wandering, I have sometimes discovered the most amazing places hidden in these rows of slums. One of my discoveries was Rubina Ali, the child actor from the Oscar-winning film “Slumdog Millionaire.” I stumbled upon her when I went to shoot her slum that caught fire last year. Luckily Rubina escaped unhurt and now lives in a planned colony with her family.

The thing I like most about people living in slums is that they always have a smile on their faces, whatever their conditions. As a photographer it is also much easier communicating with slum-dwellers, as they are very open and unguarded in their conversations. The most important lesson I have learned while photographing slums is the art of photographing its residents while ensuring their dignity is not hurt, since they live in slums and aren’t well off.

I know the lessons I learn while capturing moments in these slums are lessons for life. Each experience, each walk down those alleyways, will hold me in good stead in the future and by that I’m not just referring to photography.

I believe that sometimes you learn about a city and its society from its local cinemas and the genre of films they choose to screen.

Coming from the heart of the Indian film industry in Mumbai, popularly known as Bollywood, I had no idea what to expect from the cinemas in Kabul. I had several questions on my mind. Did families go out to watch films or was it only a getaway for men? Is watching films at the cinema as popular as it is in other parts of the world? What kind of films entice the Afghan cinema-goer?

There are only half a dozen cinemas in the whole of Kabul. Most of the theaters like Cinema Park and Ariana Cinema were destroyed during the civil war and were later shut down by the Taliban who had banned, among other things, going to the movies. Now every theater has three films shown every day with the first one starting at 10a.m.

Bollywood films from India, Pashto films from Pakistan and occasionally dubbed Hollywood films are played in Kabul’s theaters, but the genre of film is always the same; Afghan movie fans love action films. At every cinema I shot and interviewed in, action films ruled the roost.

SLIDESHOW: KABUL CINEMA

The owners of all the cinemas told me Afghans loved Indian films but due to piracy were not able to screen the films, which usually hit the markets within days of their official releases.

For me, it was a treat to be inside the cinemas and watch the inhabitants of the otherwise disturbed city sneak away a few moments of fun. At such times, they seem to forget the outside world and the tensions therein. For them, it’s a different Afghanistan inside the theater.

The cinema-goers smoke inside the theaters (hashish is very common), talk on the phone, clap and whistle at songs and action scenes, while some catch a few winks in the middle of it all!

On Fridays, which is a weekly holiday, the staff have to lock the gates of Cinema Pamir, as there are too many people for the show. I watched as everybody rushed inside to get the best seats the minute the gates opened. Some who couldn’t find a seat sat under the screen while the rest squatted on the floor.

It was a little difficult to photograph the cinema-goers, as nobody wanted to be caught inside the theater (at the time, cinemas were still treated as taboo). A lot of my pictures had to be deleted as the cinema-goers noticed I had photographed them and were not really happy about it. Some even imagined the infrared light from my camera to be a bomb!

Despite all of this, I caught a lot of people completely engrossed in watching the films. During my entire shoot, which lasted five days, I saw only two women clad in burqas watching a Pashto film on the first floor of Cinema Pamir. I wanted to photograph them but the owner didn’t allow me, as its against Afghan culture to photograph women.

From this experience I’ve learned the same thing again – be it the posh cinemas of a metropolis like Mumbai, the open-air theaters in villages, or the cloistered cinemas of Kabul – Films are an escape from reality that various cultures and nations enjoy.

After an excruciatingly long 15-hour journey from Mumbai, I stepped out of the car outside Adipur train station and found two children waiting to welcome me with flowers. Both were wearing bowler hats and had t-shirts depicting the silent film star Charlie Chaplin. Of course, I was yet to meet the town’s biggest Chaplin fan.

Adipur, a small town in the western Indian state of Gujarat was only famous for its salt pans until Ashok Aswani started living like Charlie Chaplin. A practitioner of indigenous medicine by profession, Aswani has been celebrating Charlie Chaplin’s birthday on April 16 with his fan club for the past 39 years. He even holds a candlelight vigil and a prayer meeting on the legend’s death anniversary on December 25.

Aswani turned a die-hard fan of Chaplin’s after watching his film The Gold Rush in a nearby cinema. The film cost him his job as a type-writer. He didn’t go to work that day and spent the entire time watching the same film over and over again.

Aswani told me he was so impressed by Charlie Chaplin that he started following his lifestyle. The 63-year-old started a unique fan club called Charlie Circle. It now boasts more than 200 members including men, women and children. The oldest member of the club is 75 years of age and walks with the help of a walker. The youngest is Aswani’s grandson, all of just three.

The bedroom in Aswani’s home has a huge poster of him posing as Charlie Chaplin on a wall, while his prayer room has a statue of Chaplin alongside those of Hindu Gods. Aswani, who suffers from multiple arthritis, practices physiotherapy with the help of his son everyday, but that doesn’t deter him from walking or posing like Charlie Chaplin on the streets, or as in my photo shoot, at a salt pan.

I spent three days with Aswani in his house, at his clinic, at his friends’ shops, and quite often I found him referring to Chaplin films in his conversations with the people he met. He seemed to have memorized every scene of Charlie Chaplin’s numerous films. Just a mention of a scene from any Chaplin film, and Aswani’s face lit up; excited like a child.

In all the time I spent with Ashok Aswani, I never once caught him frowning. Whenever he went out on the streets, every few meters people would stop and shake his hand or touch his feet, as a mark of respect.

At his clinic, Aswani would hand out Charlie Chaplin film copies to his patients to cheer them up.

I couldn’t help but ask the die-hard Chaplin film fan for his favorite piece of dialogue. “I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying,” said the medical practitioner as he smiled. I smiled back.

(View a slideshow of images here)

Welcome to India’s very own fight night.

First started around three years ago by Full Contact
Championship (FCC), a company founded to promote mixed martial
arts, fight nights are slowly gaining popularity in India, a
nation where people traditionally have had no inclination to pay
money to watch somebody be physically beaten in front of them.

But increasing globalisation, and years of growing up
watching overseas professional wrestling broadcasts, have given
younger Indians a taste for seeing the real thing themselves.

“The first time I went into a fight ring, I froze for a few
seconds. There were so many people cheering for me, especially
girls,” said a blushing Sangram “Slammer” Bhakre, a 21-year-old
mixed martial arts fighter.

Sangram, who is also preparing for his third-year university
exams, is a trained wrestler, boxer and wushu fighter who is
something of a hero in his local club in Kolhapur, a town 400 km
(250 miles) south of Mumbai.

He is like many of the young fighters who take part in the
fight nights, young men trained in different types of martial
arts who come from small towns where such training is becoming
popular. Sangram spent nine hours on a bus to reach India’s
commercial and financial hub — a journey he makes twice a year.

The fighters come for quick money and cheering by a live
audience. A fighter can make 10,000 to 20,000 Indian rupees
($200-$300) from a single bout, which sometimes lasts less than
a minute. The average Indian monthly income is about 4,416
rupees, according to government data.

FROM U.S. TO INDIA

The evenings are organised by Prashant Kumar, a trained
mixed martial arts fighter who runs an advertising firm and said
he dreamed of bringing the concept to India ever since first
seeing it in the United States a decade go.

“The audience is increasing with every fight night as it’s a
cheap mode of live entertainment for big spenders in this city,”
Kumar said.

“People are getting bored of watching sports on television.
They want to see and feel the pulse of it by being a few meters
away from the action.”

Fight nights take place in hired studios in Mumbai otherwise
used for Bollywood film shoots. The audience is invited mostly
through word of mouth and social networking sites like Facebook.

The overall event usually lasts for 3 hours with around
eight or nine matches in different weight categories. Every bout
consists of three rounds of 10-12 minutes, and most end in
knockouts.

Following each night is an after party. Kumar gives free
entry with every fight night pass, along with two cans of beer.

“For me it’s money to party and also a ticket to become
popular with the girls in college who like boys who fight,” said
a young fighter who prefers anonymity since his parents have yet
to find out he participates.

The audience consists of expats, young men and women working
in multinational companies and sometimes even families –
anybody able to fork out the 1,000 rupees ($20) for a ticket.

“I cannot believe I am watching this in Mumbai,” exclaims
Anubhav, a 30-year-old banker.

“Next time I am going to bring 10 of my friends. This is
amazing. This is pure action with real blood.”

(Editing by Elaine Lies and Bob Tourtellotte)

London to me, as a photographer, is a uniquely diverse place to capture on camera in terms of its people and their stories. It amalgamates a lot of complexities that make for compelling narratives.

A couple months back I went to London from Mumbai as part of a short assignment, to get some experience out of my usual domain. I worked closely with the Reuters UK team and specifically Andrew Winning on the production of a multimedia piece that would tell the story of young Muslim converts in London.

In an age where there is a lot of skepticism around Islam, empirical evidence has proved otherwise. A study, for instance, has suggested that more than 100,000 people converted to Islam in the last decade. London is one such melting pot. And the city made for an interesting background to follow the life of one such convert.

But it wasn’t easygoing from the start. People in London aren’t that forthcoming, especially if there is a camera involved. The contacts that Andrew had lined up for me backed out without warning. Upon landing in London, I’d have to start all over again.

After a few days of futile negotiations and making new contacts, I met Jason Thomas, a Muslim convert re-christened Hussain Thomas. Raised by a single parent and subjected to a rough teen life, Hussain joined a gang at a very young age and was involved in robberies, drugs, etc. Due to this, he spent the next few years of his life in and out of court probation, community service, police stations and jail.

“One day in jail when I was bored like every other day, I picked up a Quran and started reading it. One sentence hit me… ‘Is there any one more misguided than the person who makes his desires his God?’” says Hussain. He converted to Islam after a few months.

Hussain allowed me to photograph him inside his house and with his daughters but didn’t agree to being photographed with his wife. I spent the next few days following Hussain’s life.

One day we went to a neighbourhood in south London where he grew up. Hussain became a bit emotional when speaking of his past life. On another day we were walking down an underground subway and suddenly he ran down to help an old lady who was carrying a lot of bags. After helping her, Hussain remarked jokingly, “At least this old lady won’t think that Muslims are terrorists.”

It was a poignant statement that summed up my project for me. Here was a non-Muslim who’d chosen the path of Islam for the good values the religion propagates, and was content despite the raised eyebrows he encounters over his decision on an everyday basis.

Being a Muslim myself, I identified with the glances that you get on a day-to-day basis. In such a climate, the courage to imbibe the virtues of a religion is commendable. Of course, my experiences were based on the background I come from. Shooting in London, I saw a new facet to the same experience that I’m so familiar with.

Turning this story into a multimedia project was an interesting experience for me. I was telling one man’s story through my lens and I had the responsibility to do justice to it.

Now every time I go back and listen to Hussain’s tale, I connect with it. Multimedia surely adds a human dimension when the character himself reaches out and speaks to you. I’m glad I had the opportunity to tell Hussain’s story and I hope there will be many more who will share their faith in the good of Islam.