Love, Take Two

by Saranya Rai

  ‘On days like this, I suppose a hotel room does serve well. Otherwise, I’d pick returning to my own home over a hotel, no matter how fancy, any day.’

  ‘I sense a bit of discomfort about staying at the Jahanara with the rest of the A crew.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t pretend to approve of putting up different crew members in different hotels. I have nothing against the Jahanara specifically.’

  ‘I’m sure the Taj family will be relieved to hear it.’

  He grinned unexpectedly. While he couldn’t be called good-looking exactly, he certainly had an interesting face, Sudarshana noted. There was something compelling about him, and even more so when he smiled.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that? My mug isn’t pretty enough for such scrutiny from you,’ he said, trying not to show that it threw him.

  ‘Normally, I’d agree, but I’m just tired enough to admit that you do have an interesting face. I believe you’d photograph well.’

  This time he broke into full-blown laughter.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

  ‘A coincidence. I’d been thinking earlier today of how well you’d photograph.’

  ‘Very unimaginatively, by your standards.’

  ‘The opposite in fact. Why don’t we put it to the test, Sudarshana? Sit for a portrait series.’

  There was an odd glint in his eyes—both defiant and mocking. She was not going to agree, of course. Such a commitment was just asking for trouble. They didn’t get along on this set where she was boss and there was no way she’d deal well with having him direct her.

  And yet, when she opened her mouth to answer, she found herself nodding. ‘Yeah, why don’t we, Arun?’

  Dear God, what was she getting herself into?

  3

  The early-morning sun had only just tinged the distant trees with amber. Heer dug her toes into the dew-wet grass, inhaling deeply. The first hour of the day was her favourite. The village was just waking up and the morning breeze was friendly, no matter how hot the sun at noon.

  Out here in the fields, the only sounds were the rustling of the leaves and the call of hundreds of birds starting their day. Heer frowned. No, there was something else. A faint melody that was unfamiliar.

  She walked towards the source, her frown disappearing as the music surrounded her and drew her in. She had never heard anything so achingly beautiful in her life. Swallowing, she walked faster now, raising a hand to brush away a tear that had slipped from her lashes.

  She stopped at the far edge of her father’s property, under a mango tree. He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, focused only on the fragile flute in his hands. She stood as silent as humanly possible.

  He must have sensed a change, however, because the music stopped abruptly and he opened his eyes. There was nowhere she could go to escape that keen gaze.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your song. I only came to listen.’

  He didn’t seem angry at all.

  ‘Music must be savoured. Not devoured in clandestine snatches. Sit.’

  And Heer, who positively hated being told what to do, sat facing the Ranjha boy.

  He picked up his flute and returned to the haunting tune he’d been playing. Heer couldn’t look away. His song wrapped loving tendrils around her and tugged her closer. She’d never felt such peace and restless joy at the same time. Veera hadn’t been lying about him.

  When he finally finished the piece and smiled at her, Heer knew the threads of his music had been knotted firmly around her heart.

  ~

  The sticky, smoky late-August air couldn’t really be called ‘fresh’ but it was nonetheless the pretext Mrinalini Behl had used to escape the unbelievably tedious dinner party her parents were hosting. It wasn’t all that bad, she decided. Sure, the sea smelt of dank seaweed and fish, her skin felt greasy and her hair would puff up like a hedgehog in about three minutes in this humidity, but she’d still choose this over the suffocating conversations about absolutely nothing in her parents’ drawing room.

  She crossed her legs and settled more comfortably into the chaise longue in a covered corner of the terrace. It was her most favourite spot in the whole house and she often escaped here to read or work on an assignment.

  It was unlikely anyone would miss her right away, but one must have backup plans for everything in life. She needed a stronger excuse to be out here. She reached for her phone and selected the first number on her speed dial.

  He answered on the second ring. ‘Minion! What’s up, what’s up?’

  ‘Of all the nicknames you’ve assigned me over the years, I think I loathe that one the most.’

  ‘Kuch bhi, you were obsessed with those yellow things for ages after the first movie. It was impossible to talk to you because you only spoke in high-pitched gibberish.’

  ‘Itna jhooth, bhaiya, your tongue is going to fall off one of these days.’

  Her brother’s unabashed laughter cheered her up instantly. She hadn’t even realized she needed cheering up.

  ‘Aur batao, why did you call? Didn’t you say Mom and Dad’s party for Suresh uncle was tonight? Or did I get the day wrong?’

  ‘No, no, it’s tonight only. I ran away. Now, if anyone asks me why I’m out on the terrace, I can say it’s because my only brother in the whoooole wide world called.’

  ‘Such theatrics, Mini baby, are you sure you don’t want a career in films after all? Should I ask Ravi Khanna about a possible debut for you?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. And then also ask Faizal Khan to mentor me, meaning help me lose weight and become hot overnight.’

  ‘Arre, no need to ask Faizal bhai. What is your brother here for? I’ll personally train you.’

  Mrinalini shuddered. ‘No, thank you, Vicky bhaiya, the last thing I want is to wake up at 5 a.m. every day and go for a run. No, don’t even argue, I haven’t forgotten what you tried to make me do after I finished my class-twelve boards.’

  ‘It was good for your soul, lazy bum. You and that chaise longue of yours will soon meld into each other. Anyway, why did you run away?’

  ‘You know why. God, I can’t stand Suresh uncle. Any more than I can stand half the other people invited.’

  ‘What, is he drunk and giving lectures on how amazing life in America is? I don’t know why you let him piss you off. It’s hilarious and I’m sure everyone can see through the windbag.’

  ‘You don’t have to deal with his pointed jibes about how I should “pay more attention to my body” or how I’ll “soon be thinking about marriage” or even how “Arts is a soft subject”. I want to punch him in the face. I don’t care if my looks won’t get me a husband. And how unfair; the magazines call you “interesting-looking” and “sexy” and whatnot but my features are apparently just “too cartoonish”.’

  ‘There, there, Mini. If it’s any consolation, no one will want to marry a shrew like you, it’s not your face you have to worry about. So, that’s one problem solved.’

  ‘I hate you.’ Mrinalini rolled her eyes, refusing to let her smile seep into her voice.

  ‘Well, that makes two of you,’ Vicky muttered.

  She almost didn’t hear her brother’s hastily mumbled response. ‘Wait, what? Say that again. Who hates you?’

  Vicky sighed over the phone.

  ‘She doesn’t hate me-hate me. I just don’t think she likes me very much. Kritika, y’know?’

  ‘Are you serious? Kritika Vadukut? The heroine? She doesn’t like you? What did you even do in three days to piss her off? Unless you did something before the shoot even began?’

  ‘I have no idea! That’s the problem. Otherwise I would’ve obviously apologized or done something to address it. But she just . . . seems to have taken an aversion to me right away.’

  ‘But why do you think so? Has she said anything?’

  ‘No, it’s more of a feeling. I . . . I don’t know how to explain this. It’s . . . Okay, so I’ve tried to talk to her a bunch of times in the last week,
and she just barely responds! I figured that since we didn’t have that much pre-production time together, I should make an attempt to get to know her better. And she always has this one distracted, artificial smile whenever she talks to me. She won’t laugh even at my best jokes!’

  ‘Oh, so that’s the problem! You’ve finally got a co-star in your five-film history who does not share your terrible humour and won’t give you the time of day. I think it shows a lot of good sense on her part.’

  ‘But I just want everyone to love me.’

  Mrinalini mimicked Vicky’s whine back at him. ‘O le baba, did we just discover that we’re not the centre of the universe?’

  ‘Yes. And we don’t like it.’

  ‘Ooooh, you’re actually using the royal “we” for yourself! Mamla gambhir hai. Perchance, brother dear, kya tumhe kuch kuch hota hai?’

  ‘Tum nahi samjhogi, Mini.’

  Mrinalini guffawed loudly. ‘Uff! I needed that. But seriously, you’re not . . . trying to pursue Kritika, right?’

  ‘What do you think I am? Jeez. I don’t run after every hot woman I work with. I wish my sister and best friend would have some faith in me.’

  Mrinalini’s ears suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. ‘Oh, so . . . Jahan also thinks you’re trying to seduce Kritika?’

  ‘You need to lay off those romantic novels. Nobody in this decade “seduces”. But, Jay did warn me before I left for Hyderabad.’

  ‘I see. Waise, why did he ditch today? I know Mom sent him an invite.’

  Vicky snorted on the other end. ‘I’m sure he’s at home reading some new script. All these experimental-type directors want to sign him on now. Why on earth would he want to spend an evening with a bunch of uncles and aunties?’

  ‘This feels mildly ageist to me. I must protest.’

  ‘Yes, I can see how you’re registering your protest by sitting alone on the terrace. Anyway, he’s politely told me that he would be passing on his regrets to Mom, the goody-two-shoes. Like he’s ever shown up for these things. Especially when I’m not present. Why would he?’

  Mrinalini couldn’t stop the irrational jab of hurt to her stomach and felt even crosser with herself because of it. Why would he indeed?

  She paid extra attention to ensuring her voice was as uncaring as possible. ‘Man, I’d sure have appreciated the company. But yeah, I’d have begged off too if I could. Jo bhi, don’t go out of your way to try and impress Kritika. There’s no rule you two have to be best friends.’

  ‘Where did that come from? I wasn’t going to. I just . . . I feel like she’d be a fun person to hang out with in between shots. And I’m sure getting along would help our on-screen chemistry too.’

  ‘And do you get this feeling about any of the other hundreds of people on set? Heck, any of the other maybe thirty women? And I’m being optimistic with that number. Or just your hot co-star?’

  ‘Whoa, Minivan, calm down, I’m really not interested that way. And I’ll have you know, Shalini from the dress department is my new BFF. She sneaks me spoons of the best kadhi in the world during lunch, unlike Jahan who only judges me. He can fuck off.’

  Mrinalini’s chuckle ended with a sigh. ‘Don’t let Himmat hear you. He’ll implode. He cares as much for your abs and pecs as he likely does for his children. He’s nurtured each one with great care.’

  ‘Sometimes, Mini, you’re so creepy but so on point that I don’t know what to say. Anyway, I gotta go now, Sudarshana’s calling. I’ll save stories about her for another day. Go back inside already.’

  ‘Haan, haan, I will. Talk to you soon. Night!’

  For minutes after her brother had disconnected the call, Mrinalini sat outside, inexplicably restless. She felt a surge of dislike for Kritika, who had somehow made her brother sad, and an even bigger one for Jahan who was just . . . Jahan. Millions crushed on Jahan Malek and the sensitive, funny, righteous characters he played on screen. But it was both a curse and blessing to know the man behind the shiny silver screen persona.

  It wasn’t even really a crush, Mrinalini decided. It was just hormones. She’d known him for years now. Something had shifted recently and it was probably the fact that she was getting older but not getting laid.

  I can’t remedy that at this party, at any rate.

  She really hated everything about her life sometimes.

  ~

  Vicky looked longingly over at Kritika’s side of the lunch table. She was engrossed in studying a set of revisions Sudarshana had made to the script, but more importantly, she was eating pieces of watermelon with unnecessary relish. Despite the heat, she looked poised and unruffled as she sat there in her yoga pants and tank top, back straight and hair neatly pulled back with a clip. The lunch area had emptied out as most of the crew had left to set up the next shot or do the thousand other things a film set constantly demands. Even the caterers were done packing up, which was really a good thing, now that he thought about it.

  Vicky was supposed to be studying too, but all he could think about in the Hyderabad heat were pitchers of cold beer, glasses of watermelon juice and jugs of the special chhaas his cook made. However, with an important shirtless scene coming up in a couple of hours, he was barred from drinking as much as a sip of water. So, he suffered in silence. The lingering smell of biryani and the stacks of red plastic chairs and rickety tables only made him feel morose.

  Perhaps his staring had gotten too much because Kritika suddenly looked up from her script, eyes narrowed. ‘You’re making me kind of uncomfortable. You’ve been staring at me non-stop for about half an hour.’

  Vicky solemnly wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Kritika already found him weird and now he’d given her more reason to do so.

  Smooth, Vicky, real smooth.

  There was nothing for it. He’d have to tell her the truth. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just . . . I really want some of that watermelon.’

  Kritika looked even more confused but she immediately pushed the plate towards him. ‘You could’ve asked.’

  Vicky shook his head mournfully. ‘I can’t. Shirtless scene in less than two hours. My personal trainer Himmat will kill me if I eat or drink anything before that and Sudarshana would probably help him hide the body.’

  Comprehension dawned and the first honest smile he’d seen glimmered in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. A tiny hint of a dimple creased her cheek.

  Vicky subconsciously relaxed his shoulders and leant back.

  ‘And I’ve been sitting here gorging on watermelon in front of you. You have a cruel colleague.’

  ‘It’s all right. All this sacrifice brings me closer to Enlightenment every day.’

  Her smile widened. ‘Really? Since you’re closer to Enlightenment than I am, what does it look like?’

  ‘A distant haze of more pain,’ he confessed.

  A peal of laughter escaped before she caught herself, and a corresponding bubble of elation filled his heart.

  ‘Seems an awful lot of work for nothing. I think I’ll pass on Enlightenment.’

  ‘A man’s got to tell himself all kinds of lies to get through days like this. What do you tell yourself to tide over bad days?’

  ‘I’m not nearly as evolved as you, I’m afraid. I just remind myself of how much money I’ll be making.’

  ‘All right, fine, that works for me too.’

  ‘Achha? I thought Gautam Buddha’s favourite disciple works for free.’

  Kritika was devastatingly attractive in this carefree, teasing mood, Vicky realized. The dimple in her cheek deepened and her otherwise intimidatingly beautiful face was alight with laughter. An uneasy flip-flop in his gut reminded him just why she featured in the night-time fantasies of millions. It was more than her Disney princess hair and toned long legs.

  ‘Kya hua, reached Nirvana already? I think your low blood sugar is short-circuiting your brain.’

  Vicky scrambled to cover up for his mid-conversation wayward tho
ughts. ‘Yeah, sorry, I kinda started fantasizing about the mango kulfi my cook makes. It’s so incredible, I’d give my firstborn for it.’

  ‘How reassuring for your girlfriend.’

  Is she . . . flirting with me? Ha! Just shows how much Jahan knows.

  ‘It would be if I had a girlfriend. I happen to be exceptionally single at the moment.’

  ‘Yeah, no wonder, Rumpelstiltskin.’

  All thought of flirting deserted Vicky. ‘Did you just call me . . . ?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re like Rumpelstiltskin. He traded in firstborns too. Okay, now that I think about it, it’s a shitty analogy. Pretend I never said it.’

  He shook his head, sniggering loudly. ‘You haven’t even heard some of mine. Jahan says I have the worst metaphors in the world.’

  ‘Oof, thank God for that. I’d hate to hold that trophy.’

  ‘Haan, you probably don’t hold anything less than a Filmfare.’

  ‘I wouldn’t, if I’d won any after my Best Debutante award.’ Kritika shook her head mournfully. ‘As it stands, I’ll hold even a bar of chocolate if someone gave it to me as an acting award.’

  ‘There you go again, talking about food. God, what a one-track mind.’

  Kritika choked on a snort, her face turning an alarming shade of red. Coughing to clear her windpipe, she mopped at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Real attractive, Heeriye. You have a bit of snot at the corner of your nose,’ Vicky said.

  Alarmed, she scrambled for her phone, using the camera to check her image. ‘What a liar. Although I think I’ve smudged my eyeliner a little. I had no idea you’d be this annoying.’

  ‘Don’t hurt my feelings when I’m too weak to defend myself.’

  She looked him over critically and Vicky suddenly felt rather conscious in his muscle tee. He surreptitiously stretched his shoulders out farther and straightened his back.

  ‘You’re right, you’d go down in a wrestling match.’

  Vicky was so surprised, he forgot to laugh. He caught on a minute later, echoing Kritika’s mirth.

  ‘Arre, koi nahi. You’d defend me, no? Didn’t you play state-level badminton or something in school?’