‘Tissue paper? You said you are okay now!’
‘This has the name and address of the person who slept with a woman with connections. All I need is the woman’s name.’
‘What the fuck! How did you get the guy’s name?’
‘They were fucking in the other room where I was staying. I got the guy’s name there. Sanjay. Fifty rupees and the guard at his place gave me his surname. Chopra.’
‘But the address?’
‘I followed him from the hotel to his place in Malad.’
‘Unbelievable!’
‘He scared me actually with all the talks about competition and all that. It’s like everyone comes here like a pumped-up rockstar tyre and one day at a time, Mumbai empties him of the air.’
‘And you want to get to the woman, sleep with her like this Sanjay dude did, and get a role. Is that it?’
‘Pretty much,’ he winked.
To reach the woman, Neev had to wait for six more days. Every morning, he used to wait near Sanjay’s apartment and follow him around. On the sixth day he saw him enter a production house and, at lunch, come out with a woman. The moment he heard her voice, sitting behind them in a restaurant, he knew he had got his target. It took one hundred rupees this time to know her name: Arushi Sachdeva. She had her own casting agency – Right Role Casting Agency—which she ran from her husband’s production house itself. From advertisements to television shows to films and, as the grapevine went, to providing male and female escorts to bored housewives, curious corporate men, depressed socialites, and adventurous foreigners—everything was on offer. Neev visited her office the very next day, mentioning he was a small time television producer to make an appointment with her.
‘I had a talk with Sanjay. He said you were there with him at the Gold Leaf hotel. Actually, I too am interested in acting and was—’
That was the last Neev spoke inside Arushi’s office. Had her husband not been present there, she would have at least allowed Neev to finish. Unfortunately he was. Arushi made sure Neev was thrown out.
Standing by the production house, an enraged Neev did what he always did when he was angry: first break something and then eat. First he bought a plastic mug and broke it with all his power and then ordered six bananas from a roadside fruit vendor. He was already on his fourth when he saw the same girl who acted cocky in the reception come out. He noticed her stand by the iron railing demarcating the footpath and the road. In no time, she broke down into tears. People around saw her but nobody cared. Standing still, Neev wondered why he was rude to her in the first place. Perhaps he was too worked up about the meeting. What the heck, he thought, it’s all over now.
With his fifth and sixth banana in hand, he crossed the road and reached her.
‘Want to have a banana?’
The girl rubbed her eyes and said in a choked voice, ‘Stay away from me.’
‘Oh, what happened to the fire you showed me inside?’
‘I don’t know what her problem is! She started barking at me from the moment I entered. She abused me. Fucking bitch! She said people like me enter and leave Mumbai every second and nobody gives a damn. She didn’t even hear a word I said.’
‘I am afraid I should take the blame here.’
Reva shot a surreptitious glance at him.
‘I screwed up her mood before you went in. I should have known one shouldn’t mention a woman’s flings in front of her husband. But how would I know that faggot was her husband?’
Reva didn’t respond.
‘By the way, I’m an aspiring actor and you?’ This time Reva looked up at him and said, ‘Same here.’
‘I understand whatever happened with us,’ Neev paused as he got a piercing glance from Reva, ‘especially with you…is inhuman. But then let me tell you we aren’t the only ones with whom this has happened.’
‘Keep the philosophical shit to yourself. Maybe you have come across failures often. I haven’t!’
‘Oh, don’t you go by my outer appearance. I’m hurt too. I eat a lot when I’m hurt. Wanna have this banana?’ He showed her the last one with him.
Anxiety had made Reva skip her breakfast and now it was two in the afternoon. The sight of the banana made her realize her hunger. She snatched it. Half of it was gone at one go. Her cuteness while doing so amused Neev.
‘What?’ She quickly took out her mirror and saw herself in the mirror with half the banana stuffed in her mouth and dried tear marks on her cheeks. She looked at Neev who by now was having a tough time controlling his laughter. Reva laughed out too.
‘By the way, I’m Neev Dixit.’
‘Reva Gupta. NSD graduate,’ she said.
‘Oh! That means you are a good actor.’
‘A theatre actor. I believe movie acting is different.’
For lack of knowledge, Neev preferred not to turn the statement into an argument. For him, acting was acting. Theatre or movies—it did not matter.
Uninvited, he accompanied her to a nearest pav bhaji centre. Standing by a wooden counter they were served few soft pavs beside some hot bhaji.
‘Why acting?’ Reva asked.
‘Hailing from a middle-class family, money is the only ugly thing I find sexy.’
Reva was impressed to know the same snobbish asshole who deserved her middle finger an hour ago, had a pragmatic mind. Along with a raw appeal about him as well, she noticed.
‘I started lusting for emotional power over others. Something which will make people listen to me and only me.
In a way I believe acting would take care of these weaknesses for me. Of course, I love it too.’
‘Hmm. You can eat the last pav. I’m done.’
‘Thanks.’ said Neev finishing off the food on her plate. ‘What about you? Why acting? Why films?’
‘Acting is in my blood. My dad is a thespian. But cinema turns me on more than theatre.’
‘Nice.’
Soon Neev was done as well.
‘Sorry, I didn’t get you before. Why were you here actually?’ asked Reva.
‘I was here because shortcuts are tempting when a dream is big. Let me give you my friend Mohit’s number. It’ll be good to be in touch with a fellow actor.’
Neev took a napkin and was looking for a pen when Reva gave him her lipstick to write.
‘I guess the mobile phones people are talking about these days would be a boon for communication.’
Neev smiled affirmatively and asked, ‘I was curious to know if you have any seniors from NSD here?’
‘I don’t really know many.’ Her best senior contact was Amjad. And he had made sure nobody helped her.
‘Okay. What shall be your next step?’
Vishal’s face flashed in front of Reva.
‘I don’t know,’ she lied.
REVA GUPTA
Time became a restless kid for Reva. From the time she shifted to the rented flat, she hardly got time to do what she wanted. One minor work triggered a series of other essential works. The result was that from the last four months she didn’t even get a chance to watch one single film at the theatre. Apart from the one film starring Shahraan. And even if she wanted to go out and have fun, there was nobody she could go with. Vishal was away for an outdoor shoot in Kerala. Being alone in a big city, she felt someone was peeling her sanity off each day. There were times when she talked with herself; speaking aloud the monologues she recollected from her NSD days. And cried. And laughed. And stared at the empty night sky with Vodka by her side and a cigarette between her fingers. Though Vishal’s shoulder was there to lean on when he was in town, she didn’t want him for her emotional support yet. Guys like Vishal, she knew, wouldn’t be able to handle it. If she verbalized or even projected the emotionally vulnerable side of hers, he would assume himself to be her savior. Professionally, Vishal did help by informing her about certain auditions for all kinds of roles in films, advertisements, and television, but nothing bore any fruit. In most of the auditions, Reva was appalled to see fifteen
- to nineteen-year-olds—with bony structures, wearing padded bras, and accompanied by their parents—secure the roles simply because they were younger and leaner. Frustrated one night, she went to a PCO and dialled Sheetal’s number.
‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Nothing! You say.’
‘Loads up. I am no more into acting. I’m going be a housewife soon.’
‘What the fuck happened?’
‘Dad had this friend of his who wanted to get his son married to a decent, well cultured, perhaps a virgin bride. And you know how well I fit the profile.’
‘Sure slut, I do.’
There was a momentary giggle.
‘He takes me to all the sexy, posh places. It’s fucking awesome. I think every Indian girl should marry a rich guy. And even if I don’t accompany him on his foreign trips, I’ll have his credit cards for company. Anyway, what’s up with you, bitch? Hello?’
Reva cut the line. She felt her organs converging at the centre of her body creating space for jealousy. She drank her heart out that night.
She woke up the following afternoon with a throbbing headache. Lying on her mattress, she switched on the television. She casually kept changing the channels till the local cable channel came on. It was showcasing Shahraan’s debut film—the one that triggered his journey into superstardom. She wondered how Shahraan who came from a small town made it big here. Being here she wondered: Forget about stardom, even if she bags some decent roles that would be a lifetime achievement. She happened to glance at the ad-scroller which ran left to right with numerous colourful advertisements ranging from how to improve on one’s sex life to a Kaamdhenu Babaji to a mosquito repellant to…Reva eyes were momentarily fixed on it: Lalwani Jewellers wanted a model for their jewellery advertisement. Only a contact number was given.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in a PCO talking to a man who asked her to bring her portfolio to their office. Reva came home, showered, did a bit of make-up, picked up her portfolio she had made in Delhi, and scampered out. She couldn’t care less about the headache now. Twenty minutes later, she reached the desired office.
It was a small still-photo studio. The man looked at Reva’s portfolio with a mix of interest, lust, and appreciation.
‘It’s good. I think you’ll do great. Here’s the offer. We’ll give you three thousand rupees, shooting will take place at the jeweller’s shop itself, make-up and clothes will be yours, and the jewellery you’ll wear will be provided by the jeweller of course. Shooting will happen this Sunday, at three in the afternoon sharp. Is that okay?’
That’s fucking awesome! she thought. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘You’ll be paid in cash on Sunday itself.’
When the initial excitement wore itself off, Reva realized nothing worth telling had actually happened. The advertisement would probably be viewed by people like her who had nothing to do except watching movies on the local cable. The insignificance of it started weighing on her.
She had no idea what this ‘insignificant’ Lalwani jeweller’s advertisement would do to her career.
And how!
NEEV DIXIT
With Mohit’s family returning from Surat, he was forced to share his room with Neev while his younger sister shared it with her parents. They adjusted hoping Neev would shift soon to another place. But five months later, he was still with them.
The wait for good, substantial roles went on for a few months, till one day Mohit took an important call for Neev when he was out.
‘Arushi Sachdeva wants to meet you this Wednesday.’
Neev had never mentioned to Mohit what actually had happened in Sachdeva’s office. This time he did.
‘Buddy,’ Mohit responded, ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’
Neev agreed. Perhaps one of his photographs with his contact info had reached Arushi as well. It could mean his photographs were circulating and that definitely was good news.
The only thing that had changed in the last few months was Arushi’s office address. The guard at the older address gave him the new address with the accompanying news that she no longer worked with her husband. Neev prayed it wasn’t because of him.
The new office was a modest one and lots of wooden work was going on at different corners. There were a total of five employees sitting outside Arushi’s cabin. Next he noticed Arushi from inside a glass cabin, gesturing him to come in. He did.
‘Neev Dixit?’
‘Good afternoon, Ma’am. I am really sorry for that day.’
‘For the records, my husband and I have filed for divorce. So thank you very much.’
Neev didn’t know what to say. He stood still.
‘Anyway! I have this supporting actor’s role for an action movie. I think you fit the bill.’
The words sounded like music to Neev.
‘Your character is of a male stripper and the producer wants to audition you and a few others at her place tomorrow night. Are you on?’
‘Male stripper?’
‘Yes or no?’
‘Yes, of course.’
In order to prepare for the audition, Neev went to a cyber café and saw some pictures of male strippers on the internet. He could see himself thrusting his pelvis in his jockey underpants. With his long curly hair, sharp features, and a toned body, he hoped of bagging the part.
Neev was on time in Gulmohar Villa in Napian Sea road. As a servant welcomed him into the main room, he saw two more guys already sitting on the couch. My competitors, Neev eyed them well. No match!
As Neev sat down, some loud, peppy music started playing. A few flimsy lights came on next from the four corners. An atrociously fat woman came out from the bedroom, clapping for no reason.
‘Come on, boys. Hit the stage.’
Neev was hesitant at first, but seeing the other two lead, he summoned all his confidence. There was a raised wooden platform at one end of the huge hall where they took their position. One minute later, it seemed to Neev as if the other two had been stripping all their life. As the music started to pump up, some more excessively obese women, in uber party mood, came out with drinks and cigarettes in their hands. Few threw money at the guys while a couple of others came close to them and slapped their butt. Neev’s hesitance made him an unwilling centre of attraction. They eventually forced him out of his t-shirt and jeans.
That night while returning home in a lonely train, Neev realized, he had been raped in the most corporate manner possible. Arushi Sachdeva had taken the revenge of her divorce.
For the next one month, Neev didn’t see a mirror. The debilitation that incident had subjected him to, convinced him he wouldn’t rise ever. He wanted to kill Arushi and the other women but he knew it was only wishful. Every morning, he headed toward Marine Drive, sat there till late night, and then returned home. He avoided the gym and lost seven kilos in a couple of months. Over phone, he lied to his parents that he was making headway in the industry and looking forward to all the goodness he was born for. He wasn’t sure if doing so, he was cheating his parents, or worse, himself. Soon the same sense of insignificance he encountered as a teenager engulfed and brutalized his core.
Mohit recommended a change of place and suggested he should either live alone or with a partner with similar tastes. Neev agreed to the former. A few months later, one of Mohit’s friends helped him get a small flat in Goregaon.
The night he helped Neev to shift to the new pad, Mohit decided to stay on. They were not versed with the water timing and hence decided to knock their neighbour’s door for some water.
There were three other flats in the corridor. The first one was locked, nobody answered at the second, while someone seemed to be dragging furniture inside the third flat but didn’t answer the calling bell. Neev was about to turn his back when someone opened the door.
‘Yes?’
‘Mother of god!’ Neev exclaimed. ‘The Lalwani jeweller’s girl.’
From the twitch in the girl’s eyebrows, it was obvious she was trying to
remember.
‘Who is it, Reva?’ Vishal appeared behind her.
REVA GUPTA
It had been three months since Reva shot for the Lalwani jewellers. But what happened thereafter remained the most popular tea-time gossip among Mumbaikars for months to come.
It was a Sunday when Reva shot for the Lalwani jewellers. They had hired a private security team to supervise the entire shooting since they were using real and their best designed gold and diamond jewellery for the shoot. Once done, Reva was duly given three thousand rupees in cash. Repeated failures had taught her to find joy in small things else there wouldn’t be much happiness to talk about in life. It was the next day when the police arrived at her flat for interrogation that she came to know what had happened.
One of the security guards from the private security firm had held the others at gun point and fled with all the jewellery minutes after Reva had left. The fact which turned this small piece of news into an intra-state matter was the security guard had shot one customer—a girl of sixteen years—who was the granddaughter of the leader of opposition of the state. And Reva’s promotional video was the only source for the police to identify the thieves. News channels—first the regional, then some of the national ones—started tracking the incident while showing the promotional video again and again and again, till one young producer venturing into television realized this was the face he wanted for his low profile, debut kid’s gameshow host. He contacted Reva and soon she had something to look forward to from nine to four every day.
Vishal, a tad down on spirits, was over to visit her when the door bell rang.
‘Whom do you want?’ said Vishal standing behind Reva.
‘Reva Gupta? This is Neev,’ he tried a smile. He was sure the loss in weight had confused her.
‘Neev Dixit? Oh my God, what happened to you?’
‘Life!’ he said and laughed alone.
‘What do you mean? And please come in. What are you doing here?’
The banter lasted for an hour and a half. There was a spark between Reva and Neev which disturbed Vishal because he was yet to see it between Reva and him. And now this guy would live next to her as well. He felt he clearly had no place in their conversation and went back into the room. He felt empty within. Once Neev left for his flat with a bucket of water, Vishal asked, ‘Am I just a friend, Reva?’
How About a Sin Tonight? Page 8