My second tour couldn’t have been more different: Bollywood.
Bollywood Studios sits next to the international airport, which made for a long taxi ride from Colaba and would make for another one back. I was again expecting to be part of a big tour group, but there were three of us on the tour: an young Indian woman, her friend who had grown up in Canada, and me. Our guide was a young woman who moved quickly and had the efficient cheerfulness of someone who had given this tour many times.
The first stop was a sound studio, presented as a demonstration of Bollywood post-production. The demonstration took the form of karaoke. You sang, they showed you the waveform, then played it back with the audio improved to make you sound better. It was marketed as illustrative. The Canadian woman volunteered enthusiastically and delivered what I can confidently say was the worst karaoke performance I have ever witnessed. The engineers did what they could.
The second stop was a dance performance in a small theater, perhaps fifty seats. Four dancers ran through a sequence of Bollywood styles, followed by a movie quiz, then invited the audience on stage to join them. It was well done for what it was. What it was, though, was a tourist show rather than anything to do with actual filmmaking.
The third stop was different. We walked onto working sets with cameras running and crew moving around them. Our guide pointed out where to stand to stay out of shot, and that was the extent of the restriction. On one set they were recording a soap opera. Here: no photographs, no video. The reason was specific. Previous visitors had posted footage on social media, revealing plot lines and forcing the production to reshoot entire episodes. It made complete sense. This part was actual Bollywood. The rest had been entertainment.
The taxi back to Colaba took longer than the one out. Rush hour. I found a restaurant near the hotel, ordered chicken, was told it would not be spicy, and received something moderately spicy, which by that point in the trip I had stopped finding surprising. The waiter checked on me several times with what seemed like genuine concern. In the end I finished the entire (big) plate. It was delicious.
India and Sri Lanka 2026 — all posts
- Day 1 — 24 Hours to Mumbai
- Day 2 — First Morning in Mumbai
- Day 3 — Exploring Mumbai
- Dhobi Ghat: Mumbai’s Laundromat
- Day 4 — Sightseeing in Colombo: One Day is Enough
- A Short History of Ceylon
- Day 5 — Kandy: Moving into the Mountains
- Day 6 — Moving on to Ella
- Day 7 — Hike and Sunstroke
- Tea in Sri Lanka: From a Blight in 1869 to Four Million Cups a Day
- Day 8 — Nine Arches Bridge
- Day 9 — Tuktuk Tour Around Ella
- Day 10 — Time to Leave Ella
- Orphans of Udawalawe: Inside Sri Lanka’s Elephant Transit Home
- Day 11 — Safari and Galle Fort
- Day 12 — Onwards to Negombo for the last day in Sri Lanka
- Day 13 — All the problems concentrated on a single day
- Royal Enfield: Why India Rides Different
- Day 14 — The Kerala Backwaters
- Day 15 — Local bus to Munnar
- Leyland, a familiar name from the past
- Buying a beer in Kerala: Local knowledge required
- Mahindra: The Jeep That Never Left
- Discovering India Through Its Food – One Plate at a Time
- Day 16-19 — Four Relaxing Days in Munnar
- Day 20 — Travel to Kumily
- Day 21 — I Was Ready, Tigers Were Not
- Kathakali and Kalaripayattu
- Day 22 — Kumily to Varkala: The Journey is the Reward
- Day 23 — Slow day in Varkala
- IndiGo: Air travel for the masses
- Day 24 — Breakfast in Varkala, lunch in Bangalore, dinner in Goa
- Day 25-27 — Winding Down in South Goa
- Pit No. 30
- Day 28 — A Morning in Dharavi
- Day 28 part 2 — Hollywood, Bollywood: Different but the Same
- Epilogue — Night Market and a Red-Eye Home

