Tinsel

by Manoj (Vaz) Ramchandran

  Chika was not part of the celebrations. He sat alone in his house, deep in anguish.

  He was just getting dressed for office when he

  got a call from Dr Pant.

  “I am sorry to give you bad news on the first day of the year, Mr Shetty…” he had said, “but my worst fears have been confirmed. The bone marrow biopsy revealed that Trisha is suffering from an advanced case of Acute Myelogenous Leukaemia also known as AML. I believe her mother also succumbed to it. Please get her parents and meet me at my clinic today.”

  ________________________________

  End of Book Two

  ________________________________

  Inter-logue

  __________________________

  August 1997

  Ajit Koshy could see his hands shivering. He was also getting an unbearable ache in his joints. It was afternoon and he hadn’t had his smoke yet. Ajit was addicted to brown sugar and he knew he had to get down to the local dealer to get his ‘package’.

  But today, he was excited and confused. He had caught something on his camera that could fetch him a lot of money, but it could also be very dangerous.

  Ajit was the 24 year old son of Antony ‘Tony’ Koshy, the reputed wild life photographer of the seventies and eighties. Tony Koshy’s painstakingly magical reproduction of the Gir lions, the Royal Bengal tigers of Ranthambore and the Elephants of Nilgiri were still considered as the best reproductions of Indian wild life.

  Then while on a trip to shoot African elephants in Kenya, he got too close to a herd and was attacked and trampled by a protective female.

  Manoj (Vaz) Ramchandran 231

  After three months in a Kenyan hospital, he came back to India on a wheel chair, paralyzed from the waist down.

  Ajit was only 14 then and the Koshys lived in a big apartment overlooking the sea in Shivaji Park, an up market area in Central Bombay.

  Post his injury, his friends and colleagues quietly disappeared and Tony took his ire out on his wife Shirley and Ajit. Unable to bear him, Shirley left him for his best friend or rather his ex-best friend whose only condition was that she should come alone. That left Ajit at the mercy of his bedridden, cynical father and he never forgave his mother for abandoning him.

  Tony needed a full time nurse and someone to take care of Ajit. The doctor treating him arranged for a nurse and Tony recruited an ex-assistant of his named Michael to look after Ajit.

  Medium height, dark, wiry and mean, Michael moved in with the Koshys and soon was humping the ugly nurse in the day and sodomising Ajit at night.

  Michael was addicted to hashish and brown sugar and he got young Ajit addicted too.

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  Tony passed away in 1995 leaving behind huge debts. Ajit had to sell their swanky apartment to repay the debts and got himself a small one bedroom apartment just outside city limits in Dahisar.

  He got rid of Michael and the nurse and lived alone. The locality was shady and surrounded by pick up joints and ‘rent by the hour’ lodges. The area suited Ajit because it was easy to get his daily dose of brown sugar without much fuss.

  His father’s Nikon SLR with telescopic lenses was the only inheritance he had left. With no source of income and an expensive addiction, Ajit hit upon a novel idea for subsistence.

  From his bedroom window, he could see the rooms of Night Palace Lodge which was across the road. He would train his camera into the rooms, with the powerful telescopic zoom catching details that was beyond natural eyesight.

  Every other day, he would catch a drunk, married man with a prostitute in the room on his camera, before the lights were switched off.

  Ajit had an accomplice who worked at the reception of the lodge. He would provide him with the contact details of the man from the hotel register.

  Manoj (Vaz) Ramchandran 233

  Ajit would then approach the man and offer to sell the photos and negatives to him for a small cost. He was careful not to be too greedy and conducted his blackmailing with a great deal of honesty. He would ask for Rs 5000 and if the victim haggled, he would settle for Rs 3000.

  This way, the victim would not feel the pinch and avoid going to the cops. After all, the victim knew that the cops would extort a lot more than Rs 5000 if he went to them.

  But last night his drug infused sleep was disturbed with a nightmare of an elephant chasing him down and trampling him. He had woken up with a start, sweating profusely.

  He had peed a little in his pyjamas, so he had gotten up to empty his bladder and change into dry shorts. Since he was too scared to go back to sleep, he went to the window to peer outside.

  Through his sleepy eyes he could see a shadowy figure climbing the drainage pipeline of the hotel from the outside.

  Ajit immediately took out his camera and started clicking. He could see the man get on to the veranda of Room 109 on the first floor and knock on the glass door.

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  Soon the light to the room was switched on and a pretty girl, who looked like a high class call girl opened the veranda door and let him in.

  They seemed to be arguing over something. After a couple of minutes, the light was switched off. Fifteen minutes later he saw the man leave the same way as he had come in and get into a car and drive away.

  Ajit was a little confused. His telescopic lenses had clearly caught the man. He had seen that he was wearing leather gloves that bikers wear. But he had come in a car.

  It all seemed very fishy to Ajit. He couldn’t sleep at first but dozed off later only to be woken up by the sound of thunder. It was dawn and raining heavily. When he went to the window, he could see a police van parked outside the lodge.

  He immediately called his accomplice from the lodge and found out about the murder. A bead of sweat trickled down behind his ear. His initial reaction was that he had stumbled upon a jackpot. But then, it was a case of murder, suddenly a chill ran up his spine. Blackmailing a murderer could be extremely life threatening!

  Manoj (Vaz) Ramchandran 235

  He immediately dismantled his camera and hid it in trunk under his bed.

  He knew that the right thing was to go to the police. But the cops being cops would dig into his modus operandi and would book him for blackmailing instead of being thankful.

  ‘No cops,’ he thought, ‘I have to lay low for a few days.’ He was shivering and it was not just because he had not had his fix yet.

  All of next week, he could see cops coming and going out of the lodge. Ajit would get daily reports about the progress of the investigation from his friend. He was so scared that he did not even tell his accomplice that he had captured the murderer on camera, but he had a feeling that given his interest in the case, he knew.

  Finally, he decided to destroy the roll. Just then the doorbell rang.

  ‘Who could that be?’ wondered Ajit, he hardly had visitors.

  He gingerly opened the door to find a stocky, middle- aged, nondescript man with a pencil thin moustache and oily hair, grinning at him.

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  “Hello Ajit, I am Ram Shastri, your friend and well- wisher!”

  And before his drug dazed eyes could focus, Ram Shastri had already wedged his foot in the door and pushed himself inside.

  “I believe you have something that is of interest to me. Don’t worry; I am willing to pay you handsomely for it.” Shastri waved a thick wad of 100 rupee notes at him.

  “Err… no… nothing… what do you mean?” Ajit was flustered and distracted by the wad of notes swaying in front of him. He was broke and turkeying.

  “Be a good boy and hand over the roll to me and you can forget that I was ever here,” continued Shastri cheerfully.

  “How did you k..k..know? Are you a c..cop?” Ajit was ready to faint.

  “The police are dumb. They know nothing and they need not know anything,” came the reply, “come on son, you don’t want me to report your activities to the police, do you?”

  Shastri was still smiling but a chill wen
t up Ajit’s spine. There was something very scary and real about the man.

  Manoj (Vaz) Ramchandran 237

  Ajit immediately took out the film from the camera and gave it to him. Shastri smiled again and threw the wad of notes at him and patted him on his back.

  “Good boy… forget I was here.”

  By the time Ajit bent down to pick up the money and looked up, he had vanished.

  Ajit closed the door. He was sweating profusely. He was never so scared in his life. He was sure the man would have shot him dead for the film roll if he needed to.

  For the second time in the week, he found that he had wet his pants.

  If you don’t feel anything,

  You are either dead or better off dead.

  Book Three

  ________________________________

  2001-2008

  Chika, Rashmi and Shekhar came out of Dr Pant’s consulting room with ashen faces.

  “I am afraid Trisha is suffering from an advanced case of Acute Myelogenous Leukaemia, or AML,” the doctor had said.

  “Isn’t there any therapy that we can try to cure her? I keep reading in the newspapers that cancer is now curable.” Asked Chika.

  “Yes, there are various radiation therapies and AML can be cured if detected in early stages, but I am afraid, in Trisha’s case the cancer is quite advanced. We can try chemotherapy on her, but it will be very painful for her and will only prolong the inevitable for a few months.”

  “Are you saying we should do nothing and let my baby die?” Rashmi asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.

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  “I cannot say that officially,” the doctor replied, “We will use therapy to alleviate her pain as much as possible.”

  Shekhar had not said a word. He looked like he would collapse any second. He had heard this spiel before.

  Thirteen years ago, another doctor had given him the same advice when his wife was diagnosed with AML. He was much younger then and could take the blow. But now, the whole world had shattered around him.

  The next day, Trisha called Chika. She had seen the pale faces of her parents and guessed that something was terribly amiss with her body. Later when Rashmi had gone down to buy some groceries, she had taken the reports from her handbag and read them. She had then, gotten on to the internet and educated herself totally on her predatory ailment.

  “I want to have coffee with you, now!” She had insisted.

  Chika tried to change the topic, “Hi treasure,” he tried to mollycoddle her, “how are you feeling today?”

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  “As good as a person who has six months to live!” She replied tersely.

  Chika immediately drove down and took her to a newly started Coffee Bar nearby.

  Over the cappuccino they shared, Chika realized that Trisha had done her homework on AML well.

  “You have to tell Papa and Rashmi that I don’t want chemotherapy. I don’t want to go bald and go through the side effects. I just want to live the few months that I have in peace.” She was trying to be brave.

  After they had their coffee, Trisha said softly, “Chika, take me home with you. I don’t feel like facing dad.”

  Chika did as he was told.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were in his home. Though Chika lived alone, his apartment was nothing like a bachelor’s pad. It was well appointed and neatly maintained.

  Chika made her sit on the white leather sofa and went into the kitchen to get some snacks.

  242 Tinsel

  When he returned a few minutes later, Trisha was not there. He called out to her, and the reply came from the bedroom.

  Chika entered his bedroom and there she was sitting on his bed, completely nude, her arms holding her folded legs covering her breasts, trying to be brazen and shy at the same time.

  “Chika, please make love to me.” She said, “Consider it my dying wish.”

  Even though she had lost a lot of weight, she was still incredibly beautiful.

  Chika smiled and came and sat next to her on the bed and softly held her face and kissed her on the forehead while she hugged him tight.

  “No, Treasure…” he said, “not like this.” Trisha was livid.

  “Yeah right… you don’t want to fuck a cancer patient!” She retorted, “Go fuck my step mom!!”

  Chika smiled and hugged her. Still angry, she hit him feebly with clenched fists, “It’s not like I am a virgin, I have had my share of boyfriends…”

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  He did not say anything; he just continued to hold her tight till she calmed down.

  Suddenly her brave façade collapsed.

  “Chika, don’t let me die please,” she implored, “I want to live, I want to marry, and I want to have children…”

  Chika lifted the nude, sobbing girl in his arms like a baby and landed her gently on her legs. She hung on to him like her life depended on him.

  He then kissed the tears away from her cheeks and whispered, “Now get dressed my Poppet, we have things to do.”

  They drove straight to Shekhar’s house and while Trisha retired into her room, over tea, Chika asked the duo’s permission to marry Trisha.

  “Trisha may have six months to live, but I want to fill those six months with happiness and love,” he said.

  Rashmi was taken aback for a moment, but Shekhar had tears in his eyes. They could both see how besotted their daughter was.

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  They called Trisha out and told her the news. She was overjoyed but she declined.

  “Papa, I love Chika very much, so I cannot marry him,” she said.

  A week later, they had a small ceremony in Shekhar’s apartment and Chika married Trisha.

  Since Trisha could not travel much, Roy booked the honeymoon suite of a seaside 5 Star Hotel in nearby Madh Island for them.

  Dr Pant and his wife were also booked in the same hotel for the same period for a deserving break as well as to monitor Trisha.

  Six months and 20 days later, Trisha died in Chika’s arms with a smile.

  “Thank you Chika for realising all my dreams and giving me more love in 6 months than others have in their lifetimes,” she told him the day before she passed on.

  Trisha’s death broke Shekhar completely and he decided to sell his apartment in Mumbai and shift to his native Ambala, in Punjab. His health was poor and Rashmi moved with him and dedicated herself to his well-being.

  In the six months that followed Vikram’s release and success, ZMI received more than 80 scripts from reputed as well as aspiring writers.

  Roy went through each and every script along with Ballu and shortlisted two of them. They were both written by relative newcomers.

  One was an out and out action film based on the Mumbai gangland and the other was a soft mushy romantic comedy.

  After much deliberation ZMI decided to produce the gangster flick first. The title given for the film was “MumBhais”.