‘When did you lose your virginity?’
‘Three-four years back,’ said Neev and then corrected, ‘No actually five years back. What about you?’ They were shouting in each other’s ears.
‘Last week, with you.’
It made Neev turn once.
‘You kidding me?’
Nishani nodded with a mischievous smile.
‘Man, for a beginner you had the confidence of a porn star.’
Nishani laughed out loud. Next, she threw at him the real reason why she initiated the conversation.
‘You must have lost it with Reva.’
For a split second, Nishani saw the speedometer of the bike slow down and then pick up again.
‘What do you know about Reva and me?’
‘Pretty much what the world knows; you guys were kind of committed till Shahraan came in.’ The last bit was deliberate.
A few seconds passed by in silence after which Neev asked, ‘Can you tell me why people need someone?’
‘I feel we don’t have any internal dump. We have a production unit inside alright, but not a dump. So we need to be with someone for dumping our emotions, whims and, you know, all that shit. A tangible, physical walking-talking dump is all we need alongside all the time till we breathe.’
The quietude that followed stretched till they reached Bangalore.
It was all quiet when an exhausted Nishani woke up in her bed; naked and thirsty. She smiled to herself wondering how would the population, who idolized her because of her immensely popular girl-next-door television avatar with all the qualities a typical Indian male would want in his future wife, react if they knew a couple of hours back she was involved in kinky sex inside a cheap hotel. Idolization is the progeny of illusion and ignorance.
She turned on the bed to realize Neev wasn’t there by her side. Nishani quickly put on her undergarments followed by her jeans and a tee. She switched on the light but there was indeed nobody. Not even in the toilet, she checked. Wondering where Neev could be in the dead of the night, she noticed his mobile phone on the table beside the bed. Next, her eyes fell on his shorts which he must have doffed before…she realized his jeans were not there; nor was his leather jacket. His leaving in a hurry was obvious now. Nishani sat on the bed; nonplussed. Her eyes discovered his wallet atop his backpack which he had thrown carelessly after they checked in. He should be somewhere nearby. An impulse made her check her bike’s keys in her jean’s pocket. They were there. He must be somewhere near.
Moving out of the hotel, she soon discovered a petrol pump which was as deserted as a graveyard. Half a minute of walk later, she reached a roadside motel which had a few bulbs on. There was a truck stationed nearby. Some people were having dinner. Nishani was about to go to the motel when she saw a car parked a little ahead of the truck. And a man’s voice hit her ears. She was confident it was Neev. As she increased her pace and reached somewhat near the car, she noticed someone else standing by him. The one with whom he was talking animatedly. For whom Neev had left her alone in the hotel room at this hour.
It was Reva Gupta.
From a slit in her blanket, she noticed Neev unlock the door. He was holding a whiskey bottle and a glass. When he sat down to open the bottle, she further noticed his fingers were trembling. As he gulped the drink neat, his facial redesigning told her about the whiskey’s journey down his throat. Once half the bottle was gone and his hands were not able to pour it properly in the glass, Nishani feigned waking up.
‘Oh, Neev,’ she said in a raspy voice, ‘I had a bad dream.’ And then she shrieked. ‘What on earth are you doing with that bottle?’ She sat up holding the bed sheet to her bosom.
‘She ditched me.’
‘What? Who?’
‘The bitch ditched me.’
‘Answer me Neev, don’t rhyme.’
‘Reva.’
‘Reva? Reva Gupta?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you two were done with each other anyway.’
‘No, no, no. She has finally ditched me.’
Nishani realized sitting on the bed won’t do. She stretched her hands in front. The bed sheet slid down, exposing her soft yet firm breasts.
‘Come here, my love. Come to me.’
Like an android, Neev stood up, climbed the bed, and hid his face in her lap.
‘Now like a good boy, vent it out. It’ll help.’ A woman down with love and a man down with alcohol are at their most vulnerable state, Nishani knew. A soothing touch, then, can get you anything reasonable or otherwise.
‘I met her just now.’
‘Just now? But you are with me.’
‘I know.’ His babbles were getting difficult to understand.
‘Come on, tell me.’ She slapped his cheeks softly.
‘I went to meet her. We broke up. She promised me not to—’ And Neev was done for the night. Disappointed, Nishani placed his head on the bed; her mind an opera house of thoughts.
She knew a chance was lost as in his senses, Neev would be tight-lipped about Reva’s and his encounter. Why did he say she ditched him? Weren’t they separated yet? Then what’s Reva doing with Shahraan? Nishani didn’t know when those questions turned from emotional caffeine to a perfect lullaby.
Neev was incorrigibly silent throughout the journey back to Mumbai and in the days that followed. Neev’s screen performance abruptly declined, he started coming late on sets, and picked up fights with the crew on the slightest of excuses. Months passed. Soon the serial’s TRP dropped from 12.5, the highest across all channels, to 10 to to 8.6 at the last count. The chaos inside him didn’t allow him to organize anything outside.
All through these days, Nishani remained a silent observer. She didn’t want to impose herself on him, or his privacy. Yes, they were in a relationship, but that didn’t mean either owed the other anything. They were individuals and Nishani wanted them to remain that way. It was only after the director requested if she could help sort him out, she decided to intervene.
The after-shoot dance rehearsals were a new addition on their otherwise fixed schedule. It was for a dance-based show on television where they were having a special celebrity episode. When Nishani messaged him saying she would wait for him downstairs around eight, Neev informed her he had withdrawn his name on the pretext of health problems. She reached his flat; enraged.
‘What bullshit is this, Neev?’
He was as silent as winter.
‘I have been quiet till now doesn’t mean I haven’t witnessed anything. What and why are you doing all this?’
‘You won’t understand.’
‘If you think I won’t, then don’t tell me. But you have no right to pull your name out when you know that we were in this dance program as a couple. You should have at least consulted me.’
Neev was still.
‘Though I never wanted to ask you, Neev—’ she took a moment to frame her words right, ‘but what happened that night in Bangalore really?’
Neev looked at her for a moment and then said, ‘I can’t dance where Reva is one of the judges.’
‘But we are not in the competition. It’s just one episode special we’ll feature in. What’s the big deal?’
‘The big fucking deal is that I love Reva.’
‘You love her? Or you can’t see her go to someone else?’ A moment later, she added, ‘Weren’t the newspapers right? Didn’t Reva leave you for Shahraan?’
‘No. That’s not correct.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Alright. Tell me this: whose Neev are you right now? Mine or Reva’s?’
For the first time since the night in Bangalore, the face of sanity popped its head up from the mud of confusion for Neev.
‘Honestly, I thought I was getting into a relationship with a man, not a kiddo.’ She sat down with a thud on the sofa.
‘You know how low the TRP’s of our serial are going? People are complaining they don’t see the spark
in us anymore. I told our director I would take care of you. But tomorrow I’ll tell him I also failed just like everybody else because I too am nobody for him,’ Nishani broke down.
The gravity of it hit Neev hard. Every word Nishani said was true, he knew. He walked up to her, knelt down, and taking her hands into his asked her to open her eyes. She did. Looking deep into them he said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘I want my Neev.’
‘Your Neev will be back in a minute. Trust me.’ He went to the bedroom to change while Nishani rubbed the fake tears.
The dance show episode shot two weeks later was a success and in a way marked the comeback of the Neev his fans were in love with.
‘You two look great together.’ That was Reva’s only comment for them that night.
The producers of Acha Jee Main Haari cashed in on the regained popularity and its TRP was on the rise again. Two months later, on the night it attained a steady 12, Neev took Nishani to a corner during the shoot.
‘Thank heavens you were there for me, else everything I earned would have gone to the gutters by now.’
She responded with a prolonged kiss.
‘By the way,’ Neev seemed excited, ‘Next year’s telly awards co-presenters are our producers—the Shah Brothers.’
Did he just announce the winners, Nishani wondered, and kissed him again.
At the prestigious Indian Television Awards held in Singapore the following year, Nishani and Neev won the Best Jodi award, while Nishani won the Best Newcomer award as well as the award for Best Actress. And it was none other than Shahraan Ali Bakshi who did the honours of presenting her with the last one. There was something about Shahraan, awards, and me, she wondered. She thought perhaps she was destined to kill him on stage someday. Walking on the stage in a designer black full-sleeved tight kameez with a lace border and a black churidaar, teamed with six-inch heels, loose hair, and a glowing smile, Nishani redefined elegance. As Shahraan handed her the award statuette to stentorian applause from the spectators, he spoke into her ear.
‘Congratulations. You look like the perfect Indian diva.’
‘Thanks. This is the second time you are giving me an award.’ Their eyes linked. Shahraan’s eyebrow contorted. ‘Really?’
‘St. Jones Senior Secondary 2001, annual sports event.’
Shahraan’s face trumpeted his cluelessness.
‘Never mind. This may help you. I am Shekhar’s daughter.’
‘Shekhar who?’
‘Superstar Shekhar Rai.’
The award, the accolades were nothing for Nishani compared to the way Shahraan’s visage changed. As if she had stripped him naked on a public platform with his hands tied.
‘Do meet me backstage,’ said Shahraan as they smiled at the flashes of cameras together.
She met Shahraan in the green room right after receiving the award.
‘So, you are Shekhar Sir’s daughter?’
Shekhar Sir? That’s a pleasant surprise. ‘I am.’
‘He will always remain a ‘Sir’ for me. He was such an inspiration, a benchmark for my generation.’
‘For other generations too.’
‘Sure.’
Nishani was looking straight at Shahraan while he fidgeted with his Mont Blanc pen. She knew he had the words—whatever they were—ready in his mind. But why was he buying time?
‘What are you doing these days?’
‘Just this serial.’
His face was a concoction of disturbance and thoughtfulness.
‘You like films.’
‘It’s in my blood.’ She was intentionally trying to bring everything back to Shekhar. Back to square one.
‘Right. You want to act in one? I am sure it will give your career a big boost.’
‘Do I need to give you a blowjob for that?’
It sounded casual, but for some seconds, Shahraan looked as if he didn’t get her words right.
‘I had to give a blowjob to secure the role that fetched me the award tonight. And I don’t know how it works for a movie.’
A faint twinkle appeared in Shahraan’s eyes after which he sniggered out loud.
‘No, no. You don’t have to give me any job for that. I think you fit the kind of face ATM is looking for his next film. It’ll start sometime after my Genghis Khan film.’
‘ATM?’
‘Arunodaye T. Manjrekar’
‘The box office king.’ ‘Same guy.’
‘I’ll be more than happy.’
‘Good. I’ll ask my secretary to arrange a meeting with him in my office sometime soon.’
‘Great.’
Acha Ji Main Haari’s success bash happened in Mumbai, a couple of days after the award show. It was a grandiloquent affair with all the cast and crew present along with other prominent faces from the television and media world. For someone stepping inside the lounge that had been booked for the purpose, it would seem everyone was enjoying. But amid the dance moves, the happy greets, the joyous hugs, and the constant flying kisses, people were ticking off their priority list. A priority of relationships they needed to invest in for future returns. Nobody complained because everybody indulged in it. Nishani was sipping her John Collins, maintaining a plastic smile, and waiting for Neev to come out of the toilet when someone whispered to her, ‘Nishani Rai, St. Jones Senior Secondary High school?’
She didn’t have to turn for the man was there in front of her now; a tall, fair, and handsome looking man with playful eyes and an innocent smile. For a moment, the rewind button of her life was switched on. And she time travelled, scrutinizing every face she had ever come across; who could this be? The answer blew her mind off.
‘Kaash Balloo Sehgal!’
Kaash scratched his forehead playfully and with a broader smile said, ‘So, you remember me.’
‘Idiot, I never forgot you.’ Nishani’s happiness glistened with genuineness.
‘Thank you.’
‘But,’ she looked at him bottom up, ‘where did all the fat go?’ She stared at him in disbelief.
‘Where did all the past go?’ He could have cried there.
Nishani gave him an appreciative smile which had a spark of nostalgia in it.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Your director is a friend of my producer.’
‘Your producer?’
‘I am doing a small budget, independent film. The shoot is going on.’
‘Oh my God! Balloo, you are going to act? I mean, beat that!’
‘Not more than our meeting.’
‘Damn, yes. I shall prefer the past tonight.’
‘Isn’t that a sin?’
Nishani frowned for a trice and said, ‘Well then, how about a sin tonight?’
THE SENSATION
KAASH SEHGAL
12:30 a.m., 2008
It was nice to meet you. His message read.
She replied: Same here. My friends are jealous because I talked to you.
Tell them I liked you a lot as well.
Haha. Just did that!
Great! BTW, like to do me?
What do you mean???
A favour.
Oh, certainly.
Then do me.
What?
A favour.
What favour?
Doing me.
Are you trying to seduce me?
I’m seducing you to try me, Aravali.
You are fast, Kaash!
Hence guilt doesn’t catch up easily. BTW, call me Big D. That’s my moan name.
What’s a moan name?
The name one’s partner screams out during climax. What’s your moan name?
I don’t have one yet.
Care to gift yourself one tonight?
If you promise not to make me pregnant.
If you promise not to make me your husband.
What am I? Today’s special in your favourite restaurant?
Wink!
Next, they left the nightclub together for Kaa
sh’s bachelor pad; Cyanide.
In the belly of the night, they satisfied the sexual poet inside the other with rhyming acts of carnal verses. While Kaash did almost everything a man could do to a woman on bed except for a lip to lip kiss. That didn’t happen even once. ‘But why?’ wondered Aravali.
Two hours later, as they lay naked and sapped atop each other, she somehow managed to say, ‘Finally, I get to know my moan name: spice doll. I like it.’ They slept inhaling each other’s musky odour.
It was around four-thirty in the morning when Aravali felt an urge to pee. She got up and emptied herself in the toilet. When she came back, she noticed Kaash lying naked on his side. She smiled. From the time she saw him at the special screening of his debut film, Mumbai Dogs, Aravali wanted to experience this moment, but she never thought it would happen this soon and so easily. It wasn’t exactly that she wanted to sleep with him. Easy things never intrigued her. It was something more risky that she had in mind: to get involved.
At twenty-nine, Aravali Pathak was a respected film critic, a newspaper columnist, and a sub editor at one of the largest selling film magazines—Sinema.
Kaash’s debut film had turned him into an overnight sensation in the industry, more so, after it went onto win the Silver Bear Best Actor award for him at the Berlin Film Festival; an unprecedented feat for any Indian actor. She saw the film for the first time in Cannes where it featured in the Un Certain Regard section. Once home, she found herself obsessing about him. Her last break up was two-years-old now and post that, work pressure had disconnected Aravali from normal human needs of companionship within her. Kaash rekindled it. She tried to search the internet, but nothing substantial came out regarding him. She tried to get in touch with him, but he was cold over phone. To extort attention, she wrote a negative review of the film, butchering both the film and his performance. Though this immature behavior surprised her the most, she also knew if someone could force you to exhibit kid-like behaviour, then the person was worth a follow up. The negative review garnered her some brickbats from the producers, the director of Mumbai Dogs, and also from a certain section of the industry, but nothing from the man himself. If what she had for him was an ember, from that point onwards, became a mad fire.
How About a Sin Tonight? Page 17