I CAME TO Ireland in 1986 – completely by chance. I’m originally from India, a state called Uttar Pradesh and a city named Lucknow, its capital.
Growing up, I was fascinated by Bollywood – India’s film industry – and got deeply involved in drama. The local Bollywood culture is so heavy on youngsters’ minds, it’s the most attractive career. The ‘high life’, basically.
In India there is a huge population, and young guys and girls are very career-orientated. Their parents also get very worked up about it. In my case I graduated with a primary degree in biology, but had absolutely no intention of advancing in the field.
I was involved in local theatre and television in Lucknow but in terms of the future, this had limited scope. I thought ‘Let’s go to Delhi’ – so I did, and at the Little Theatre Company there I met Mr IL Dass, a 70-year-old who had trained at Rada in London. He suggested that I too go to England and get formal training as an actor. Bollywood is a big, complicated industry, and if you’re going to progress, it’s best to arm yourself with a qualification.
I planned to go straight from drama school to Mumbai and its Bollywood industry. I’d been working as an actor in Delhi, in TV and theatre, but the idea was to get formally trained and then there’d be better chances of jobs in Mumbai. There were four major drama schools in London, but I was not holding my breath.
I told my parents that if I wasn’t accepted I’d continue my studies in India, but fortunately I got into one of the big four, the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art (Lamda).
In London, another dimension opened up for me, broadening my horizons and look on life. I began doing radio voiceovers for feature programmes and dramas on the BBC World Service. I did 26 episodes as Sir Humphrey Appleby in Yes Minister, a radio version of the famous television series, and hobnobbed with Bollywood stars.
I also met Mervan Roe, a Scottish guy working in Dublin’s Olympia Theatre as a scene designer. “Have you ever been to Ireland?” he asked. “Never,” I replied. The English said Ireland was backward, a poor country. But I decided to visit nonetheless.
Arriving in Dun Laoghaire, I got a very different reaction from that in London, where all the public transport drivers were mostly immigrants. Here there was no such thing. The bus driver, a wonderful Dubliner, said “Welcome to Ireland” and took my suitcase. Later I met a friend of Mervan’s, a bartender at the Olympia named Maureen Grant, now sadly departed, and told her I was taken aback by the courtesy. She said: “That’s Ireland for you.”
Dublin was a very quiet city in the ’80s. The pace of life was very different to London – where you were judged on how much money you make. I wasn’t interested in this fascination with material wealth.
While in Ireland, I got involved in the literary circuit, and I made some very good friends. I also met three guys who wanted to set up a drama training course on Sean McDermott Street; they had funding approval from Anco, the predecessor to Fás.
They said to me: “You have all the qualifications for this role, would you consider running it?”
Continued next week...
Siraj Zaidi is founder of Bollywood Ireland and an independent radio and television producer
