The day Amitabh Bachchan came to Forest Gate.

At the end of the 80's I found myself living among the Pakistani community in East London's Forest Gate. I think there were only 2 other non Asian households in the street, at least our part of it, which was lined with typical terraced houses between Green St and Katherine Road. Although there was not a lot of integration between us, it was always a friendly and vibrant place to live at the time- Diwali time in particular stands out as a noisy and spectacular time that seemed to go on for weeks and when Pakistan won at Cricket, cars yielding huge national flags would be paraded noisily down the street.

  The atmosphere in Green Street was always electric and the seemingly endless fruit and veg stalls outside the shops always seemed to do a good trade as did the colorful sari shops and tempting mystery of what we saw through the windows of the many take-aways.

  On one corner was the Anand restaurant and Sugar Cane Hut, a popular meeting place for the locals who partook in, not only the sickly sweet sugar juice but also the highly popular Paan that was chewed from a leaf, something I was just too nervous about ever trying. It was a great, exciting and adventurous place to live.

  One late summer evening in 1990 things appeared a bit different, no cars were passing down the street and I heard shouts and screams from down on Green Street. I grabbed my camera and wandered down.

  Green Street was a hive of activity with thousands lining the pavement. The traffic, never a free running road at the best of times, had become just a long car park, with number 58 buses backed up in both directions- no one was going anywhere.

  Taped to the side of the sugar cane juice machine at the Anand was a hand written poster proclaiming that Amitabh Bachan (sic) was on his way for a personal appearance here in an hour or so. I have to admit that at the time I had no idea who Amitabh Bachchan was but another banner in the street was promoting his show, the following weekend, at no lesser venue than Wembley Stadium so he must be a big draw- a fact demonstrated by the thousands here awaiting his visit. I could not believe that had any of the more conventional stars of the time, say a Michael Jackson or a Madonna been appearing that they would have drawn a crowd even approaching this.

It did also seem that the local authority had no idea of the immense size of this event as I am sure the road would have been closed and a huge police presence would have ensued or, more likely, the event would have been banned, it was after all east London rush hour and save for some barriers and the odd policeman it did have the feel of an impromptu event.

Not that those here cared about the traffic disruption, one look at the excited faces in the photos tells the story, they just wanted to see their man, Amitabh.

It was a party atmosphere by now and yet still another hour or so before the man was due to arrive, I passed among the trapped and in some cases abandoned cars in the street with my camera being welcomed and even enticed over to photograph those waiting in the crowds. The spread of ages was surprising, young girls in their best sari's and jewelry stood alongside elderly, graceful women propped on walking frames.

This was outside the disused Forest Gate bus garage.

The local petrol station became a popular spot.

This photograph has a tragic story behind it as the postmaster of the shop and post office behind was murdered during a robbery only a few weeks before.

Seven pm had long gone and there was no sign of the big star. I had to be somewhere else and with the traffic at a standstill on all the roads around Forest Gate and Upton Park station inaccessible, I headed in the direction of Stratford. Zigzagging down the side streets I became aware of a stretched Mercedes limo creeping past. The gloom of the evening, along with the darkened windows concealed those inside but I flashed the camera in its direction anyway.

  I would like to think Amitabh is the one looking straight at me, but I don't really know. It was a like a private viewing with the man for me something the thousands that have been patiently waiting down the road had yet to experience. Somehow I felt privileged.

© Photos and writing M Garner

©Koenji Music