Bollywood Nights
Page 30
She got out of bed. Laxmi was up as well. It must have been four or five in the morning. The sky was beginning to lighten. It turned out to be a spectacular storm. While Laxmi hurried to get her a cup of coffee, Aasha Rani sat by the window and watched. The jasmine bush right outside had been laden with flowers the night before. Now the delicate white blossoms lay on the wet earth like tiny stars fallen from the sky. Lightning streaked across the sky. Funny. She used to be scared of lightning in the past. Really, really scared. This was the first time she was looking at it. And it was beautiful.
The storm must have lasted about forty-five minutes. When she looked up at the sky, dawn was breaking gently. A pretty dawn, all pink and flustered. Like the bride she would have wanted to be. The rain clouds had moved on. The sky was silent. The cosmic dance was over. God had put his tablas away and gone to his green room to rest.
Aasha Rani went to the telephone. There was so much she had to do. She had to speak to Sasha. Perhaps she’d be able to get through quickly today. She had to see Appa. Talk to the solicitors. But more than anything else, she had to see Sudha. Touch her, talk to her, hold her, forgive her. And, for the first time in the last couple of days, she could see a glimpse of how the future might work.
THE MOMENT SUDHA SAW Aasha Rani standing next to her bed, she held up her scarred hands to shield her face. “Akka—no! Don’t,” she said brokenly. “Please…please, go away. I don’t want you to see me like this. I want to die. I don’t want anyone to see me. There is nothing left to live for. Please, akka, I beg of you. Whatever it is that you’ve come here for—I don’t even want to know. God has punished me. It is nothing else but that. I deserve it. I have been evil. I have sinned. Heaven knows what made me do it. I have done you so much harm. You don’t have to forgive me. Just let me die. I’m reduced to this; I frighten myself when I look into a mirror. Why did I not die then? That would have been better. I would have been released from this. Take everything I have. It is rightfully yours; I grabbed it from you. There is nothing I want. Take the bungalow, take Amar, my jewelry, whatever there is. But please, do me a favor. Get me some pills to end this agony. Please, akka. These people here bring me one sleeping pill for the night. I had a plan. I pretended I was swallowing them but was actually hoarding them away. I wanted enough. At least forty or fifty. But they found them under the bed last week. Tell them, akka, tell them not to keep me alive like this. Nobody expected me to pull through. God knows why I did. And now they want to send me abroad—Switzerland, they say. For further grafting. What’s the use? Will I ever look the same again? No. Please, I have had enough. No more pain. Infection, septic wounds, pneumonia—there is no strength left in my body. After they graft every piece into place—what will happen? Will someone give me a role? Will any man marry me? Will anyone even want to look at me? Have I no right over my own body, my own life? Akka, what am I to do?”
There were no tears left either. Sudha was dry-eyed through it all.
Aasha Rani moved closer and put her arms tenderly around her sister. “I’ll tell you what to do. But first you have to promise me one thing—that you will stay with me. I will look after you, and you’re going to help me. The two of us together will reopen Appa’s studio—our studio. We will make films, good films, and we will survive. Not just survive, but prosper. We will make our banner the greatest banner the south has known. We will modernize the studio. Get all the latest equipment. Hire the best people. You will come with me to Singapore, Hong Kong, Tokyo to buy whatever is needed. Ours will be the most up-to-date, high-tech studio in India. You have excellent business sense. I will need that. I will concentrate on the technical side, handle production details. Appa will be proud of his daughters. Amma too. Look at me, Sudha. This is our chance, yours and mine, to start new lives, begin again. We are going to do it. Do you hear me? We are going to succeed and never look back. As for my daughter, Sasha, I have plans for her too, but those will have to wait. Are you ready, Sudha? Sudha, are you with me? You’re going to make it. Make it just fine. There is nothing good plastic surgeons can’t do today. And I’ll be with you, for however long it takes and wherever in the world it is that we have to go. Show your face to me, Sudha, my dear little Sudha. Let me look at you.”
Sudha refused to move her hands away. Aasha Rani bent over her sister and carefully pried away her stiff fingers. Then, very, very gently, she leaned in and kissed Sudha all over her face.
APPAWAS OVERJOYED when she told him her plan. He couldn’t really express himself clearly, but Aasha Rani could understand his delight from the feeble pressure of his hands as they pressed hers, and from the tears that were steadily flowing down his leathery cheeks. “Everything is going to be perfect, Appa,” she kept repeating. “It rained last night. Good omen. Did you know it had rained?” He nodded slowly. “And, Appa,” Aasha Rani continued, “We will all go to Tirupathi soon. Very soon. As quickly as the doctors allow Sudha and Amma to be moved. And as fast as Sasha can get here. I’m going to call her now and tell her to come over. I know she’ll like that. I just know it. Then, with Venkateshwara’s blessings, we will all start again. You will see your banner flying high once more and feel proud. Very proud. Our name will rule the industry and the studio will regain its glory. I promise you that…You will see that I shall do it and prove it to you.”
IN BED THAT NIGHT, in the twilight state between waking and dreaming, Aasha Rani thought of Sasha. It was Sasha who needed her the most, she told herself. Sasha. Her beautiful daughter with her tawny skin and those special eyes that had the sun and the sea dissolved in them. Eyes that danced and dimmed like a thousand constellations. Sasha with her innocence and guilelessness. Sasha would come and live with her. Together they would conquer the world. Together, her little daughter and she would carve themselves a niche. With no one telling them how to live life. No heartbreaks, no disappointments, no compromises. And as her beautiful daughter rose up in her mind she knew it was all going to be easy. Sasha would live life on her own terms. And she would bring her up as Amma never had. Aasha Rani suddenly imagined her daughter’s fresh, innocent face gracing movie hoardings and gossip magazines. Sasha had the makings of a star. An unforgettable star. The Golden Girl of the silver screen! Oh yes, Sasha would be tomorrow’s Lover Girl!
It was Diwali tomorrow. The festival of lights. She would need to tell Laxmi to prepare the diyas.
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READERS GUIDE
Bollywood Nights
Shobhaa Dé
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A CONVERSATION WITH SHOBHAA DÉ
Q. What made you write Bollywood Nights?
A. I was the founder/editor of India’s first fanzine called Stardust. From that privileged position, I got a ringside view of Bollywood. Stardust remains the market leader till today, combining as it does a lot of spicy masala (showbiz gossip), with bold exposés and candid interviews with the top stars. Bollywood is a pretty fascinating place and our stars are amazingly colorful. More than ten years of monitoring their lives via Stardust editorship provided all the material I needed for the novel. I wanted to tell the real story of Bollywood, warts and all.
Q. How important is it for a writer to know the subject? How well do you know Bollywood?
A. A good story can only be told well from a position of strength. A writer must know his/her turf intimately. The author’s “voice” has to be real…credible. I knew Bollywood better than most, having seen it from the inside out. I understood the grime behind the glamour. The tears behind the plastic smiles. Maybe I’ve seen Bollywood for what it really is, stripped of its gaudy facade. It was a story worth telling and sharing.
Q. How different is Hollywood from Bollywood?
A. There are the obvious parallels—both are populated by larger-than-life characters, egotistical monsters and adorable rascals. Both deal with fragile egos and monumental insecurities. Both entertain millions of fans worldwide. Other than that, Bollywood has its very own identity—it is a very special place a
nd functions by its own crazy codes and rules. Like Hollywood, the star system and the savage pecking order, determine everything.
Q. Why do you think Bollywood is gaining in popularity across the world?
A. Bollywood is one of the fastest-growing brands out of India. It has achieved global recognition during the past five years. Film buffs seem to enjoy its unique formula of song-and-dance romances, interspersed with melodrama. It is an attractive fantasy that doubles up as escapism of the most entertaining kind.
Q. You are credited with having invented “Hinglish,” which combines English with local colloquialisms. How and when did that happen?
A. It happened quite naturally when I was editing Stardust. I decided to incorporate “street speak” into one of its most popular columns (“Neeta’s Natter”). The language was spicy, racy and colloquial…so catchy, in fact, that today it has gone mainstream. Readers of Bollywood Nights will find the novel peppered with Hinglish words and phrases…. That’s the real flavor of Bollywood.
Q. Why do your books shock India so much?
A. The books broke a lot of rules…. They were not conventional by any standards. The language was raw, and the content provocative—a surefire formula for generating controversy.
Q. Are your characters in Bollywood Nights based on real-life movie stars?
A. Yes and no. Some of them are definitely inspired by real-life movie stars. That is inevitable. Avid followers of fanzines might be able to track the similarities. But the story itself is entirely original and does not reproduce the life of any one movie star.
Q. What do you want the book to convey about Bollywood to the rest of the world?
A. I want the book to arouse curiosity and provide a window into a very intriguing world peopled by some incredible characters. Bollywood is unique. This is its real story.
Q. So does the casting couch really exist in Bollywood?
A. You’ll get the answer in the book!!!
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