Bollywood Nights

by Shobhaa De

  Aasha Rani looked fondly at her father. She was touched by his concern. And to discover that he was all there. “Appa, I am not going to jump into anything in a hurry,” she assured him, “but I am bored. Films are all I know. What else can I do at this stage? I’m not educated. I’m not a clever businesswoman. How many choices do I have? Soon Sasha will grow up and go away. After five years, I still feel an outsider in New Zealand. Jay’s family does not accept me. There’s nothing I can do there. Jay needs me, he loves me, but he’s a fairly independent person. He can also manage very well without me. Sometimes I feel lonely and restless. I miss the hectic life I had before. I miss the attention, the lights, the people, everything. I just want to try a film or two to see whether I enjoy the experience and whether audiences still want me. Look at other actresses who are my age, who started out with me. Where are they today? I’m still getting offers.

  “Producers are not fools; they aren’t doing me a favor. I’ll take my time, but if I don’t grab this opportunity, I’ll always regret it. So many old actresses commit suicide, get depressed, start drinking. I don’t want to end up like that.” Appa’s eyes rested on her with gentle understanding. When he spoke again he’d changed tack. “That girl, Sudha, even though she is my own flesh and blood, I’m afraid of her. Don’t trust your sister. She’s dangerous. Stay away from her,” he said.

  Even though Amma had accepted Appa’s arrival, it was clear, as the days went by, that she was not overjoyed at having Appa around. At first Aasha Rani thought that she didn’t want to be saddled with a sick and broken man. An unnecessary impediment. But there was more to it than that. Amma had begun moping around the house. She was listless and easily distracted. Aasha Rani found it strange that she no longer barged in to make her decisions for her, when she discussed work with Kishenbhai and Jojo. Perhaps age was finally catching up with her, though she couldn’t have been more than fifty. Mostly, Aasha Rani thought, having to stay under the same roof with Appa made her nervous. She had never forgiven her “husband,” nor forgotten that he was the father of her children.

  “Why don’t you go to Madras? Krishna and Laxmi never work properly unless they have someone overseeing their work,” Aasha Rani said. Amma hesitated. Aasha Rani could see she wanted to go. “I’ll look after Appa,” Aasha Rani promised.

  SUDHA CALLED AND ASKED her over. Aasha Rani tried making excuses, but they sounded lame even to herself. Sudha wouldn’t take no for an answer. She called again and again till Aasha Rani gave in, reasoning that she’d dealt with tougher adversaries in the past. She was aware that among the many reasons she was putting off going to Sudha’s house was an immediate problem: She wanted to avoid meeting Amar. She still experienced a tiny twitch of irritation when she thought of him and their short-lived affair. Of course, she’d gotten involved with him only to show Akshay she could get a new lover—a much younger one. Amar, too, had used her as his springboard to stardom. And she hadn’t held it against him (“I’ve used Amar, too,” she’d said to Linda—strictly off-the-record, but it had promptly jumped into print). Still, the thought of meeting him now, in the company of her younger sister, made her uncomfortable. In the end, she decided to overcome her feelings and accept the invitation. Besides, there were a lot of things she needed to sort out with Sudha. Several scores to be settled. Aasha Rani reminded herself to keep Appa’s warning in mind and not let Sudha get the better of her. No matter what. When Sudha phoned that evening she agreed to have tea with her the following day.

  Aasha Rani reached Sudha’s bungalow and took in the landscaped lawns, the artificial pond with the rockery and waterfall, the smartly dressed durwan at the gate, and the rest of the liveried staff. Sudha, she had to admit, had class.

  Hearing the car roll up the driveway, Sudha rushed out to greet Aasha Rani. “I’m so happy to see you, akka,” she said warmly. Aasha Rani hugged her back, and they went into the house. An involuntary gasp escaped Aasha Rani as she surveyed the luxurious home of her little sister. “All this. And so quickly?” she heard herself say. Sudha smiled. “I worked hard for it, akka,” she said, and took Aasha Rani by the hand. “Let me show you around.”

  The conducted tour revealed things about her sister Aasha Rani would never have suspected. Sudha’s home was grand—but not vulgarly so. Aasha Rani gazed openmouthed at the muted splendor around her. “Did you buy all these things yourself?” Aasha Rani asked. “No,” Sudha answered easily, “I wouldn’t lie to you. We got hold of a Delhi designer—he was involved with the Festivals of India in Paris and New York. Ranjit Jain. He’s terrific. Very talented. Actually, Akshay Arora was the first to discover him. After he got his house done all the heroes and their wives wanted him.” “How did you get him to agree?” Aasha Rani asked. “Simple.” Sudha smiled. “First, I slept with him; then I asked him to do my house, but Ranjit wanted Amar more than he wanted me. Don’t look so shocked, akka. Anyway, I told Amar, ‘If you want the best-looking bungalow in the industry, do it.’ It’s hardly as if it was the first time for Amar. Everyone knows about his weakness for the fishermen of Marvé and the fairer chhokra boys on the sets. Amar has also had a long affair with Hanif—you remember that villain? So, to cut a long story short, Amar agreed, quite willingly, and we got Ranjit at a discount,” Sudha reminisced as she traced her fingers over an antique silver jhoola with Pathani pillow covers.

  All of a sudden Aasha Rani was knocked over by a huge dog. She screamed with fright. Sudha said, “Down, Jackson, down.” As she fondled the Great Dane’s enormous head, she explained, “We need him for security. Too many fans, some of them quite crazy. They climb over the walls. Once I found a lunatic in my bedroom in the middle of the night. He said he’d come from Jalandhar only to get my autograph! I was so scared, I couldn’t even scream.”

  As casually as she could, Aasha Rani asked, “Oh, really? So where was Amar?” “Amar was on outdoor location that night.”

  “And today?”

  “Oh, today he’s in town but not here. I sort of thought, you know, I didn’t want to…”

  “Want to what? Embarrass me?”

  “Akka, please, let’s not fight. You know how much it means to me to have you here. I want us to be friends.”

  “Friends? How can we be friends? When you say all those hateful things—and sound off to Linda in print?” Aasha Rani shot back angrily, quite forgetting her resolve to remain unruffled. “You have stolen my money. Stolen my films. Stolen my lover. Been unkind to our parents. Lied, cheated and deceived everyone to get where you are today. And you want to be friends!”

  “Akka, calm down. That magazine article—Linda just has something against you. Why are you losing your temper and blaming me, me alone? You don’t know what Amma did to you. The sort of things she told me about you. The lies she made me tell just to get your roles. I was young. And innocent. Do you think it was I who schemed against you? Am I capable of it? It was Amma who threw Amar at me. She practically locked us up in a room together, like that song from Bobby. What could I do? He was the first man I got to know in Bombay. And, let me be frank, I did feel attracted to him. I thought, ‘If akka found Amar so great, then he must really be something.’ Amma sent me to the Shethji also. But he wasn’t interested. You want to know something else? When Amma saw Jay, she phoned me the same night and said, ‘He’s very good-looking. Why don’t you make friends with him? Call him to your house.’ Actually, she forced me to phone him once or twice when you were out. Didn’t he tell you? Ask him if you don’t believe me. And your husband. I don’t know whether I should tell you. I mean, he didn’t exactly snub me or anything at the mahurat in Madras. I chatted him up. He sounded quite interested. Though he kept saying, ‘Your sister will kill me if she finds out.’ He even suggested that he route his flight back to New Zealand through Bombay. But fortunately Amar was at home on the dates that he suggested so I had to put him off. Amar can be jealous. Bas, that was the end. So, don’t worry, nothing happened. You wanted to hear the truth; now you’ve heard it. Ch
alo, let’s have tea. I’ve made your favorite medhu vadas.”

  Aasha Rani was shaking. She didn’t know whether it was shock, rage, frustration or disbelief. It wasn’t possible, she told herself. Nothing else mattered. Not all the other betrayals. But Jay! Could Sudha be telling the truth? How could he have done this to her? And if he’d really done all that right under her nose, what must he be doing back home? Alone? She couldn’t think straight. There was just no one she wanted to talk to. Especially not Sudha. She went through the evening numbly, making small talk, discussing Sudha’s films. She wasn’t an actress for nothing. But inwardly, she couldn’t wait to get home and put a call through to Jay to find out the truth. Was it Sudha or was it Amma? Or was it both of them? Who was lying to her? And why?

  THE PHONE CIRCUITS were down all evening and till late into the night. Aasha Rani couldn’t sleep. Sudha’s words had burned a hole through her heart. There was no one she could turn to. Aasha Rani realized how friendless and alone she really was. She stared out at the dark sea and she saw the distant lights of Marvé twinkling through the smog. She longed to hold Sasha. If only the bloody operator would get through. She started pacing around her house searching for something, anything, that would calm her nerves. Her eyes fell on the crystal decanter Akshay had once given her. It was beautiful, especially when the lights caused sparks to fly from it. Why not? she thought, and helped herself to a drink. It tasted foul. How old was the whiskey lying in it? Not even Scotch, something sour-tasting and awful. She nearly gagged. Akshay preferred single malts. Jay stuck to beer. Amar drank anything, even horse piss. Maybe the servants had finished the Scotch and refilled the decanter with hooch from the nearby “Aunty.” And the sudden memory of Aunty made her laugh.

  She remembered going to Aunty’s illicit hooch corner with Akshay late one night and asking for a drink. Aunty had nearly had a heart attack seeing the two stars outside her humble bar. She’d hastily produced two chipped glasses and her best “narangi”—a potent drink made from fermented fruit skins, picked by garbage collectors and sold to distillers like Aunty. Akshay and Aasha Rani had gotten roaring drunk that night and had set off in search of boti kababs and kalejis at the small roadside grill outside the enormous Mahim Mosque. There was a fair on, and the small road alongside was packed with open-air food stalls selling everything from fried sweetbreads to entire charcoal-grilled goats. They’d gorged themselves, finishing off their meal with malpooas straight out of the large frying pans. “I want to be able to get into my costume tomorrow,” Aasha Rani had giggled. Akshay had pinched her tummy and said, “Forget it. Let’s both bunk and go to Lonavala.”

  How she missed Akshay. And the evenings they’d shared. She took another swig and switched on some music. Ghulam Ali. They used to listen to his ghazals, lying contentedly in each other’s arms after making feverish love. Abruptly she stopped the music—and stopped herself from dissolving into tears.

  This was hopeless. There was no point in waiting for the phone to ring. She didn’t even feel like cross-examining Jay. In the state she was in, she knew she would handle it all wrong. Spit out words she’d regret later. Accuse him instead of asking him. No. That call could wait. On the spur of the moment, she picked up the business card near the telephone and called Jojo.

  JOJO ARRIVED HALF AN HOUR later. Raring to go. “Do you want to waste time performing a mating dance or shall I start reading you bedtime stories straightaway?” he asked cockily. “Straightaway,” she said, pointing to her room.

  He was out of his T-shirt before she had shut the door. Brisk and businesslike. Worthy of any American professional. He climbed out of his jeans and folded them neatly. Once he had stripped and settled comfortably in bed, he looked around. “Yech!” he said. “What a ghastly room. And that pink! No wonder you can’t sleep!” Aasha Rani had stripped down to her panties. “With me here so close to you all you see is the color of the room. What’s the matter? Fag or something?” Jojo grabbed her hand and placed it on his erect penis. “Is that fag enough for you?”

  There were no preliminaries, no sweet love words, no teasing, nothing. It was over in minutes, practically before it had even begun. Aasha Rani was very disappointed. “Is that all?” She pouted. Jojo lit a cigarette and said nonchalantly, “For starters.”

  “How long before the main course?” she asked. “Don’t be greedy. Work up an appetite first,” Jojo replied, and went back to his cigarette. “Anything decent in this pink house to quench a thirsty man? Perrier, Pernod, Chablis?” he wanted to know. Aasha Rani said coquettishly, “A pink gin goes best with the atmosphere, actually.”

  Aasha Rani tried to talk Jojo into changing her role as they lay in bed. “Why don’t I play the other woman?” she suggested brightly. “Why don’t you adapt the script a little so that she’s not a teenager. I don’t mind doing a negative role provided it’s young.” Jojo patted her bottom and said, “Don’t try your little tricks with me, sweetheart. I’m not in the market for the world’s oldest con. It’s that role or nothing. If you want to withdraw your sexual favors in that context, you can do so right now. No hassles. But save your little number for someone else.” Aasha Rani admired his cool, emotionless pragmatism. “You win,” she said. “Where’s the dotted line for me to sign on?”

  THE MOVIE WAS A MISTAKE. The press was horribly unkind to her after the announcement appeared. Journalists dug out old photographs and jeered at her decision. “It’s not fair,” Aasha Rani fumed to Kishenbhai. “Why are they being so cruel? It’s not as if I’m fifty. Look at that other female—the divorcée with the two kids—she’s playing heroine roles and nobody is objecting. Why can’t I?”

  “This is the fate reserved for those at the top. You were a craze, not just an ordinary heroine. And then at the height of your fame, you ditched everybody and went away. Your fans felt let down. You can’t do that with audiences,” Kishenbhai said, trying to console her. “Journalists also felt maha let down. They are angry. They want to teach you a lesson. You should ignore all of them and do your role well.

  “People can be fickle. Today they hate you. Tomorrow they’ll love you. The industry works on this rule. That’s why they call it a gambler’s profession. Who knows, if your first comeback role clicks, you’ll get another, better role. It all depends on the people—only they accept and only they reject.

  “Gopal had come today—that bloody son of a bitch. He was making inquiries. Cheap inquiries. Saying, ‘Aasha Rani must have come down to earth now. I hope she has swallowed her pride.’ He was meaning something dirty, some faltu thing, you know what I mean. As if you are so hard up that you’ve become a call girl. I told him to go to hell. But he is in a powerful position. He has a standing in the industry today. Not like the old days. He may contact you directly and invite you to private parties to entertain clients and all that. But be careful. He mixes with dangerous people these days. All goondas. Amrishbhai is also in touch with him. You know about Abhijit, I suppose.”

  “No, I don’t know anything about him. I lost touch completely. How is he?” Aasha Rani asked.

  “Not good. He has turned out to be a wastrel. Amrishbhai did everything, tried everything. But the boy is now beyond help. Drugs, women, sub kuch. Gopal and his goondas have been hired to amuse and protect him. Keep him out of bigger trouble. They control his life totally. Supply him the girls and the drugs.”

  “What about his wife?” Aasha Rani asked. “She nearly lost her life during the delivery. Stillborn. Amrishbhai was with her throughout. Best doctors, best treatment. They gave up hope…But she pulled through somehow. Now she has another son, Aniket—Amrishbhai dotes on him. Since his father is canceled out, Aniket will inherit everything. Trust-vust all in his name.” “That’s interesting. Maybe I should try to meet Abhijit,” Aasha Rani said almost to herself. Kishenbhai looked alarmed. “Do you want to die? Amrishbhai will murder you. Don’t go near his son. He blames you for everything. His daughter-in-law’s health included. Poor girl, she found out both of you had gon
e together. That night itself she started bleeding. And you know, she wasn’t even in Bombay at that time. They brought her to the Breach Candy Hospital by a special helicopter. They thought she’d go that night itself. Bahut panic ho gayaa. She pulled through somehow, but the doctors told her they couldn’t save the child. Now she spends all her time at Amrishbhai’s office. He has made her the executive director of his other company—the one that manufactures textile machinery. Workers like her. She does a lot for them. So that is their life.”

  “But where does Abhijit stay?” Aasha Rani asked curiously. “He has been given a separate wing. Full bandobast, security and all that. Four, five times they’ve sent him abroad to cure him of his drug habit. For a few months he is all right. Then back again he falls into the pit. That is life.”

  THE CALL TO JAY came through three days later, by which time she’d slept with Jojo thrice, excluding two midday quickies. When she heard Jay’s anxious voice at the other end, her anger dissipated. In any case, after Jojo, she had mentally tuned herself into believing that they were now “equal” somehow. When he finally heard her voice he shouted, “Sasha and I both love you and miss you madly. But don’t worry. You just go ahead and do what you have to. How are Appa and Amma?