Part-Time Devdaas…
Rugved Mondkar
Srishti Publishers & Distributors
N-16, C. R. Park
New Delhi 110 019
[email protected]
First published by
Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2015
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Rugved Mondkar, 2015
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.
Cover design: Sanjay Gauraha
Printed and bound in India
Dedicated to
The Mother,
The Father,
The Sister
& Her...
Some of this actually happened...
Acknowledgements
There were times when as a little boy I would make up stories about myself, simply to entertain people and get kicks out of it. Then came a time when lying and making up stories didn’t satiate the itch of telling stories in me. This book is an attempt to derive a bigger kick by entertaining you, my reader. Thank you for picking up the book. I hope you love it.
I am eternally thankful to all the beautiful people around me who in their own way have helped me make this book happen.
My parents who have provided me with stable supply of Roti, Kapda and Makaan, and making me the person that I am.
My sister Rucha - the sweetest thing that has ever happened to me. Vishwarath my brother-in-law – my brother from another mother.
Anuja Gondhalekar, for literally kicking me to write this book, for being the most patient sounding board, for all the creative inputs, for being the first reader, for tolerating my erratic emotions which were all over the place during the writing of this book, and for being everything that you are. Thank you.
Sushant Tungare, Ameya Masurkar, Mithil Khadke, Akshay Vaidya and Apeksha Belsare Anavkar – the most amazing five people who made my growing up years so beautiful. Thank you for all those memorable days. No words can explain how much I miss you guys.
Rutuja Mane Vaidya, Riddhi Khadke, Manali Vaidya, Namrata Narkhede, Purva Chaudhary, Gargi Lad, Apurva Vaidya, Manish Narkhede, Ranjit Gupte, Nachiket Kambli, Sagar Deorukhkar – the friends who are the victims of the random spurts of my story telling. Thank you for your mad belief in me.
My family and friends for the never-ending love and insane support. Thank you, all you lovely people.
Vinayak Kulkarni – thank you Kaka for helping me promote the book.
Super talented Sanjay Gauraha for the cover design and Rukmini Chopra for posing for the cover.
Team srishti for patiently clearing my doubts, believing in the content and making this book happen. Thank you for all the support during the process of publication.
Wish you all Love, Peace and Happiness..!!
Godrej / 85163, a steel key.
I kept staring at it as I stood at the door. The door to my first apartment. Rented, yet mine. The happiness that I had anticipated somehow managed to bunk the moment, but I had to bear with it. It was strange considering I had gotten the independence I always starved for – no questions, no arguments, no screaming roommates, no chaos. Nothing
at all.
Then in a moment, the fact that I was going to be alone began to sink in and suddenly the world around me went silent. All I could hear was my broken wailing self, wishing life had an option to undo things. Life had changed drastically from jostling in crowded local trains to travelling alone in my car. I was so alone that it had been more than a week since I had heard my own voice.
“Arjun?” A voice called my name.
“Hmm,” I turned around startled and saw a girl’s face framed by the grill of my neighbour’s door.
“Maa told me you’d be coming,” she said. “Is everything alright? You look a little flustered.”
“Ahh, no, I’m fine. Just trying to figure out which is the key to the first door,” I blurted foolishly, barely managing a smile.
“Cool, our doorbell has conked out so knock if you need anything... Oh sorry, I am Aditi,” she closed her door with a smile that stayed with me.
I turned the key and opened the door, Thanks to my producer Rocky, I finally had my own sea-facing apartment in Bandra. I could see the sun rise from my bedroom while the living room had a perfect view of the sunset. Right from the open kitchen to the flawless marble flooring to the brick-wall-finished walls – everything was just as I had wanted. Almost everything in life was in place. The only thing missing was her, without whom my life was as empty as the apartment I was standing in.
The two bean bags and a coffee machine were my only companions. I made myself some coffee and sat on the Italian style window. The view of the setting sun from the living room looked mesmerizing.
The door bell rang.
“Do you mind if I bug you for a while?” Aditi grinned.
“Not at all. Come on in! Will you have some coffee?” I asked.
“I don’t mind.”
I made a cup for her while she made herself comfortable on one of the bean bags.
Aditi – dusky skin, bee-stung-luscious lips, dazzling smile, blue and red streaked hair, multi-coloured nail paint, black thumb ring, pierced nose and a slight accent. The scissor cut, navel revealing singlet threw just the right amount of cleavage at the viewer plus her track pants made sure her curves were justified. Pure hotness. Nineteen years old, not more than that, I thought to myself.
“You do know you need to fill this place up, right?” she said looking around the emptiness.
“Yeah, the movers will be here with my stuff,” I handed her the coffee mug.
“You know the girl who lived here before you? Arrgghh... Class one bitch! Never even smiled at me!” she said animatedly as she juggled between talking to me, sipping the coffee, and typing messages on her phone at rocket speed.
The orange light of the setting sun coming from the window made her skin glow. The fizz she had in her was infectious.
“So?” She gazed at me, then trying to find words, she asked, “What do you do?”
“I’m an ass...” I gobbled up the rest of my sentence realising I was no longer an assistant director. I smiled to myself re-registering the change in my mind. “I’m a director.”
“Holy fish! A director? Like a real film director?” she bounced with excitement.
“Ya, a real film director. I’ll be starting my first film soon.”
“Is it a romcom?” she had a twinkle in her eyes as she said that.
“Yes.” I smiled. “What about you?”
“I’m studying. FYJC Arts, at Nationals. I wanna be a journo. sounds like a fun job, right?”
Sixteen years old? A voice yelled in my head as I did the math; she looked too old for high school.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said lamely.
“Hey what’s your BB pin?” she asked, noticing my Blackberry and added me immediately.
Her purple blackberry suddenly started buzzing.
“Hey I gotta go, I’ll catch you later?” she sprung up and rushed to the door.
Minutes later, my Blackberry pinged. It was her.
“It wAs nIcE mEEtiNg yOu... M glAd mY dAd rEntEd yOu ouR apaRTmEnt... hAVe fUn... M jUs a PING!!! aWaY iF yoU nEEd aNythiNg” followed by smileys, a grin, eyelashes, and a hug.
“Likewise.” I replied.
By ni
ght time, the movers had moved in all my stuff – the sofas, the bed, my writing table, the photo frames, everything. The apartment had now become a house – a messy one. It had been a long day and I had no strength left to unpack. I crashed on the haphazardly dumped bed and almost instantly fell asleep. I was dreaming about a narration with Shah Rukh Khan when my phone began to ring. I cancelled it a couple of times but it continued ringing. I realised I was dreaming and I had to wake up to answer it. It was Radhika. I checked the time. Why would she call me at midnight?
“Hello?” I said groggily.
“Happy birthday, kiddo!” she screamed into the phone.
“Couldn’t you find a more annoying hour to wish me, Didi?” I said. “Thanks anyway.”
Since we were kids, Radhika had not once missed wishing anyone in the family at the stroke of midnight. The birthday bum also had to read the long letter she wrote followed by the cutting of the cake and hunting for the gifts she hid in the house. In spite of her being married, her juvenile excitement was intact.
“Done moving into the new house?”
“Hmmm...”
“How is it?”
“It’s really good,” I said.
“Are you alright? You seem quiet.”
“Yeah… that’s because it’s 12 at night. I’m sleepy and you won’t stop talking.”
“Same old Mr Snappy! I miss you Poncho. Come back to LA na.”
“Me too. I wish I could come back.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine. How’s your grizzly husband? Is he still always hungry?”
“Don’t ask! If he could, he’d eat in his sleep too,” she said grumpily.
“How’s Kiara?”
“She’s good. Achha listen, Did you speak to her?”
I’d seen that question coming. “No.”
“Why? You promised me you would.”
“Didi, I really need to sleep. Please.”
“Go, get lost, you dog! Take care, okay?”
“Yes I will, kiss Kiara for me.”
“Ya, I love you.”
“Love you too, Didi.” I hugged my phone for a while after I hung up.
Happy birthday to me! Happy thirtieth birthday to me. Shit, I’d turned thirty.
My birthdays didn’t exactly excite me but the date meant something to me. I had hit most of the goals that I had set out to score.
An apartment – rented, yet mine. Check.
A car – though not a Land Rover. Check.
Being a successful film director – A three film contract with the biggest studio in the country. Definitely check.
Married to Hrida...
The year 2001 changed my life in more ways than one and if there was any kasar left, 23rd October of that year completed it. Diwali had always been special for me. The only thing I hated about it was the crackers. I never understood why people spent money to buy smoke and noise. Everything else was fun – dressing up, wearing the traditional kurta (which sat in the wardrobe for the rest of the year thereafter) and visiting the local temple where a crowd gathered religiously, as if it was one big date fest.
Early that evening, my dad woke me up and asked me to get ready as he wanted me to go shopping with him. Shopping with dad was always painless, unlike with Radhika or Mom. Zip zap zoom and he would be done; as a consolation, I would get bagful of stuff for myself too. I wasn’t sure where dad intended to shop that day since the stores we usually went to were on the other side of the city. He suddenly parked the car and asked me to get down. I squeaked with joy as I saw him enter a bike showroom. I ran behind him.
“Baba... if you are joking... this is not funny!”
“Consider it a bribe to not drop out of engineering,” he said and smiled at me.
And there it was – the blue 200CC mean machine.
“Zero to sixty in seven seconds flat,” the sales guy was saying.
In those days, when guys my age used 100cc bikes which made fart-like sounds, this baby was a total boner. How cool could anyone’s father get!
“Thank you so much, Baba,” I said hugging him.
“You are welcome. Now, will you tell your mom about this?” he said, sounding genuinely scared.
Later that evening, I picked Shashank up. To me the world seemed different that day – my very own bike was something that I had wanted ever since I had learned to ride. When you are constantly around someone like Shashank Sachdev, you are without a doubt invisible. Six feet tall, athletic body, fair skin, stubble or a dimple if clean shaved with floppy hair – girls would never notice a five-feet-seven-inches tall anorexic frizzled-haired guy like me. I would always end up feeling like his sidekick, so the bike was without a doubt an ego boost for my shallow self esteem. We aimlessly rode all over the city. I was just beginning to feel like the hero of my own story when Shashank got a call from some girl named Neha who asked Shashank, who in turn asked me to take him to the Greenwood Park coffee shop where she was waiting for him. I realised my time of being a hero was nearing an early end. All the way to Greenwood Park, I whined about how irritating it gets to listen to his moronic conversations with girls, so I declared that I’d drop him and leave. But by the time we reached, Shashank had cajoled me to wait.
As we entered the coffee shop, I saw three girls sitting in the cafe. I quickly peeked at all three of them. There was a fair one, whom I simply glanced at assuming she was Neha. The other two were of my interest as I would probably spend the next two hours or so staring at them or listening to them. One of them was dark-complexioned, with a look on her face which said “My mom has asked me not to talk to guys so I’ll mace you even if you so much as look at me.” The other one was dusky with a cute smile. She got up as we entered and straightway hugged Shashank. He introduced her as Neha. I was merrily surprised. Then I looked at the girl I had overlooked. I cross my heart and swear to die, but I literally observed her in slow motion – fair skin, pink lips, no lipstick, small dark brown eyes carved with just eyeliner, long eyelashes, layered brown hair, a groggy voice and the smile that left me breathless. There was something about this girl that all of a sudden made me feel numb. Hrida.
As expected, Shashank disappeared with Neha, but I had no complaints. I was thinking of what to say that would not make me look like a fool when Hrida spoke.
“Hey your eyes,” she said staring into my eyes,“They are beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I said a little embarrassed.
“What exactly is the colour?” she came close to me and my heart started pounding. “Shit! They are olive green!” she said.
“Yeah, the only saving grace on my face, rest is just a disaster.” I giggled.
“If you are fishing for compliments, then I must add that you have a great smile too.”
“Nothing like that.” I started grinning.
“Yes, confirmed it is pretty amazing.” She said and winked. Suddenly all my nervousness disappeared.
“You don’t seem to like wearing a sari,” I said.
“Arrgghh, I hate it. I had to wear it because of these fools.” She looked at the third girl, “I’d any day prefer pulling up a pair of denims and a tee. Festival or no festival.”
The third girl got a call from her mother and had to leave. The evening couldn’t get any better for me.
“So what’s with the auntie? What’s her problem?” I asked about the third girl.
“Nothing’s wrong with her. She is just not used to hanging out with guys.”
“She literally punched me with the look in her eyes,” I said and Hrida started laughing.
My phone rang. It was Shashank. It better be something important, I thought. I picked up and he asked me to meet him near the fountain just around the corner. He asked me to bring Hrida and the other girl along with me. As we reached near the fountain, I saw Shashank on his knees in front of Neha and he was holding something in his hand which looked like a ring to me. I have to agree it was romantic with the multi-colour fountain behind them and
the music that was playing, but it was by far the cheesiest thing I had ever witnessed in my life. I buried my face in my palms. Hrida on the other hand was thoroughly enjoying the scene.
“She said yes, she said yes!” Hrida said jubilantly as I saw them hugging in full public view. Yukk, couldn’t Shashank have found any other place? I thought, but I didn’t mind as Hrida was holding me by my arm.
I made a puke face at Shashank. Neha seemed really happy as she hugged Hrida.
“Someday, it’ll be you,” he said to me.
We started walking towards my bike. Shashank and Neha held hands as they walked. Hrida and I followed them. She seemed exceptionally happy too. I started the bike and Shashank jumped from behind. As we began to leave, Neha hugged him again. Hrida smiled at me.
We sat in silence. Shashank was probably thinking about Neha and I couldn’t stop thinking about Hrida. She was different from the rest of the plastered Barbies I had met or dated. She was fun and honest. She cracked jokes and laughed at them herself. She was carefree and the zing with which she talked simply amused me. I wasn’t sure if what I felt for her was love or not, but I knew one thing for sure – I had to meet her again.
I sat there as Hrida walked out of the cafe. I watched her go till she disappeared out of my sight. She left me with the same numbness that I had felt when I had seen her for the first time on Diwali seven years back, only this time I felt bitter emptiness inside me. Shivers went down me as reality began to sink in. I left my bike at the cafe and began to walk. A riot of conversations broke out inside my head.
“How could she simply leave?” Voice One asked.
“Because you asked her to?” Voice Two said.
“But why didn’t she refuse??” Voice One asked.
“You begged her not to.” Voice Two said.
“Didn’t she feel anything when she left. After all, we have been together for seven years??” Voice One asked.
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