How does one judge a director or producer who is constantly surrounded by at least five people? The man, you think, must decidedly be on a major ego trip, lording it over his own little court. But in all probablility, the court consists of aspiring actors, hungry for a break. And while one can sympathise with the latter, spare a thought for the bigwigs, too. These are people who have their answering machines clogged with their requests, who have to speak to them on the phone and see them walking into their offices or homes any time of the day, every day of their lives.When frustrated, most wannabes end up giving others a really difficult time. "One can understand their (the aspirants) point of view. After trying for months, one tends to get flustered and frustrated. But they should understand our limitations also," says Shrey Guleri, who appointed a separate team to deal with them."There are all kinds. In the last eight years I have seen around 2000 would-be actors five of each kind," estimates AnubhavSinha, ex-director of Sea Hawks, who recently directed Shweta Shetty's music video Mein dekhne ki cheez hoon.The telephone has become a director or producer's worst enemy. Some desperadoes (!), think the only right time to call is around 11.00 pm at night, reveals Sinha.Others love calling up on the private numbers, instead of the office or studio ones; some end up getting extremely angry: "I called up three times!", is a common reproof to directors And women strugglers, Sinha says, are a different breed altogether. Most end up paying visits with their personal bodyguards mother, brother, servants so that almost the entire family is camping at the door.Sinha's answering machine starts ringing by 9.00 am, and by 12.30 pm has recorded a minimum of 150 messages. When told that he slept only around 2.00 am in the morning, the callers reply that he is never available during the day. Raman Kumar, of Tara fame, is fed up with unknown people calling up on his mobile. He vows that a personwho pesters him on his mobile is definitely not in the reckoning for a role.There are those who vent their frustrations on the phone. Once an aspiring actor left a threatening message on Sinha's answering machine Meini tera supari de di hai. Teen din mein tera kaam ho jayega. "You are coming back home late at night and are traumatised even if a motorbike passes you," he says, still sounding mildly traumatised.Therefore, most producers let their assistants deal with the aspirants who are asked to leave their bio-data with the promise that they will be contacted as and when a suitable role turns up. Some assistants buy time by asking the strugglers to contact them after three months or a year. Some strugglers take offence and leave with a threatening "You will regret this. I will become a great star some day, and you will grovel to cast me in your serial". Occasionally, patience is its own reward, reveals Raman Kumar: he was so impressed by an actor who waited exactly a year before coming back to him,that he promptly cast him in a serial.But Prem Kishen, Cinevista, frowns on this habit as he feels that it encourages the wrong type of people. While actor-producer Mukesh Khanna sees to it that they are discouraged enough to go back, complete their education and take on some decent work. "Looks are not just enough, you have to have talent," he insists.The directors, meanwhile, are easily accessible on the sets. So the time between scripts and shots are devoted to the wannabes. A few people take grave offence when the director fails to recognise them again. "During a shoot there are a hundred things on one's mind, so it is practically impossible to keep track of these people," says Sunil Agnihotri, director of Betaal Pachisi. One such spurned aspirer resorted to abusing a director on phone every alternate day. It took the director 45 minutes to convince the guy that it was not deliberate.Some aspirants try to win sympathy with their tales of woes. And despite being aware of the strategy, mostdirectors fall for it. Sunil Agnihotri for example, ended up employing a dwarf as a bodyguard at a salary of Rs 5,000 per month, because he couldn't find any suitable role for him!
