by Saranya Rai
‘So, do you want me to frame them differently? Or leave it as is?’
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. ‘What, you have no expert opinion to offer?’
Surprising her even further, he shrugged. ‘It’s your call.’
Sudarshana studied him carefully, looking for signs of irritation or even condescension, and found none.
‘Make the shot tighter, and I think we should make camera two stationary.’
Mulling over her words for almost a minute, Arun slowly nodded. ‘I agree. I’ll go speak to Manoj and set it up. We’re going to need another twenty minutes or so.’
Sudarshana reached out and quickly felt his forehead for a fever.
‘Feeling all right, Arun? No devastating comeback?’
He grinned at her, eyes creasing so sincerely she couldn’t help grinning back.
‘I’ve decided to cut you some slack on this trying day. Also, I think I’m finally getting the hang of what you’re looking for and how I can best realize that.’
‘To what do I owe these changes?’ mocked Sudarshana, clutching at her heart.
Arun continued looking at her, in a way that made her feel hot and bothered, though his tone was still light. ‘Let’s just say, the photo shoot last week helped.’
Battling for composure, Sudarshana snorted. ‘If that’s all it takes, why don’t we schedule another one if you’ll be this compliant for the rest of the film?’
‘Yes, why don’t we, Sudarshana? I can’t make any promises about compliance, but I think a follow-up series would be . . . interesting. The shooting schedule is more lenient when we return to Mumbai next week. I’ll set something up in my studio there.’
Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘I was joking. One was bad enough. There is absolutely no call for a second shoot.’
‘Coward.’
The soft reproof only made her dig her heels in harder.
‘I’m not thirteen that you can dare me into it, Arun. We’re absolutely not doing that again. Now, I’ll be very grateful if you would go make the changes we discussed.’
Shaking his head, Arun returned to consult with his assistants while Sudarshana waved distractedly at Salim who had finished fixing the staircase. Being friendly with Arun was such a disconcerting experience. She wasn’t even sure if she could call him a friend. But one thing was for sure, no matter how friendly they were, this whole photo-shoot business was unnerving and she would have no more of it. She breathed a sigh of relief as one of the wardrobe assistants ran over with the missing pair of earrings. Now, if only Vicky and Kritika would get their act together. They honestly made her feel very much like the school principal they thought her to be.
12
The cold winter months had arrived and the days had become shorter. It suited Heer, who could pretend in the darkness that she was back in Jhang, that the dry leaves rustling in the wind were of the jamun tree near her childhood home, that the smell of roasting corn came from her mother’s kitchen.
Throwing a thick shawl around her shoulders, Heer stared out of her window, over the barren moonlit scrubland, so very different from Jhang’s lush fields and bubbling streams.
But the one thing she was grateful for was her solitude. There was no one else in her little house who would be made uncomfortable by the constant mantle of sorrow that she had worn for months.
At first, she had tried to make her marriage work, to be the dutiful wife. But it was only a matter of time before her husband’s family had begun to notice her listlessness and absent-minded ways as more than the normal reticence of a new bride. The needle fell out of her fingers too often for her to finish any mending. The grain burnt too often under her spoon. Her eyes were always fixed on the horizon, hundreds of miles away.
It was as though Chuchak had lied about his cheerful, vibrant daughter. This pale shell of a woman did not look like she could be the heart of any household.
Entreaties had given way to anger and then finally to resignation. Her husband was a merchant with business concerns in several ports. He began to stay away for longer and longer periods. And one day, her mother-in-law banished her to this little house on the far end of their land.
Her father had come himself, entreating her to return home, but Heer had refused. Returning to Jhang without Ranjha would be more painful than spending the rest of her life within these four walls, with no one to call her own. Her father’s steadfast refusal to accept their love had curdled into a bitter lump that she carried in her breast, tainting every happy memory she had of her childhood.
She thought of Ranjha often on nights like this, wondering if he had moved on and forgotten her. Perhaps he played his flute in someone else’s fields these days, charming some other Heer with a more amiable family.
Mostly, Heer was tired. She did not know why she kept vigil by the eastern window, nor how long she could go on like this. But she waited.
~
November had arrived but a late shadow of the withdrawing monsoon was causing waterlogged traffic snarls all over Mumbai. With the result that both Megha, the script supervisor, and Javed, the editor, were late.
Although, Arun reflected, Javed was perennially late and this rain was really a great excuse for him.
Opposite him, Sudarshana was studying a sheaf of script notes and shot lists, making last-minute comments in the margins. As usual, her reading glasses had slipped several centimetres down the bridge of her nose. It didn’t appear to bother her, but it drove him insane. Why the woman couldn’t afford a pair of glasses that actually fit was an abiding mystery.
She was also studiously avoiding eye contact. In fact, apart from a muttered greeting when she’d walked into the room, she had been pretending she was alone.
While one couldn’t exactly accuse Sudarshana of being overfamiliar, Arun couldn’t help but note that she’d been somewhat on edge since their photo shoot. If not actively avoiding his company, she’d definitely cut every conversation as short as possible. He hadn’t noticed at first, but it was now glaringly obvious that Sudarshana was nervous or unhappy about being alone in his company. And that thought hurt him.
He had a sense that something about the photo shoot had caused her to clam up like this, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. He’d enjoyed himself so much that day, it hadn’t even occurred to him that she may not have. Away from the stress and their constant battles on set, talking to her had been so easy. And fun. After the initial awkwardness, she’d forgotten all about the camera and had begun treating the set-up more like an interview—which, of course, had been his goal with the questions. Relaxed but still alert. Putting her most confidently professional side on view, while glimpses of warm humour shone through. And that had made her even more attractive to him.
He’d begun test-developing some prints now that they were back in Mumbai and he had access to his own lab and equipment, and just looking at the pictures brought back the buzz he’d felt in the air that day. Her face had a timeless quality to it which made the pictures exhibition-worthy. Not that he would exhibit them. They felt far too personal.
Sudarshana’s phone beeped twice, startling him out of his reverie. She was frowning at the screen.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I messaged both Megha and Javed to ask where they were and how much longer they’ll take, and it’s not looking too good. Megha says she’s stuck at Saki Naka. While Javed claims he’ll be here in twenty minutes.’
‘So . . . anything between half an hour to an hour and a half?’
She shook her head, putting her phone down and rearranging some of the papers strewn all around her on the table.
‘I can’t stay longer than seven. I have a meeting with production at eight. We’re not going to get half as much as I’d wanted done. I swear, if Javed wasn’t my favourite editor . . . ’
‘You mean if Javed wasn’t the only decent editor whom you can also browbeat into doing exactly what you want?’
She shot him a withering gla
nce.
‘If only all the men I work with were as accommodating as Javed.’
Arun laughed softly. ‘Touché.’ Before she could return to her notes, Arun decided to press his advantage. ‘Although, I have to ask you, what exactly was it about our photo shoot that resulted in this renewed antagonism?’
She looked up swiftly enough for Arun to know he’d found his mark, even as her guards visibly went up.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Not to sound clichéd, but you know exactly what I mean. Something went wrong that day. Either I inadvertently did something, or said something, or you had a thought that made you uncomfortable. And you’ve been acting . . . odd since.’
‘I don’t know what to tell you, Arun. There’s nothing wrong.’
Arun was silent for a minute. ‘You know . . . as my “boss”, in a manner of speaking, when I say something that I know to be true, and you deny it and imply that it’s in my head, it’s called gaslighting. And I’ve seen enough of it from professors and early employers to recognize it in a shot.’
He was perversely pleased to see that Sudarshana looked stricken.
‘I absolutely did not . . . that photo shoot wasn’t even a work thing where I’m your so-called boss!’
‘Ah, then you admit something did happen. Why don’t you tell me what it was, so I can try to address it? I have almost begun to enjoy working with you, Sudarshana. Almost. And I’d like the feeling to remain for the rest of the schedules here and in Igatpuri.’
Sudarshana sighed heavily, taking her glasses off, and rubbing her eyes.
‘All right, look, this is very awkward. I just feel . . . embarrassed about the whole thing. Every time I think about the shoot, I cringe a little and find it very difficult to look at you.’
‘What? Why? What did I do?’
‘Nothing! Well, nothing that was so terrible on paper. It’s just that . . . I don’t know . . . all those personal questions and the camera . . . it had this quality of being a friendly chat while also feeling strangely manipulative. You were just there behind the camera—listening and watching so closely . . . I told you I wasn’t going to make a good subject. I do much better behind the camera.’
Arun was beginning to understand the problem.
‘On the contrary, I think you’re a very interesting subject. The problem is that . . . you felt a little like a specimen under a microscope after the whole thing?’
She nodded apologetically. ‘It may be different with a photographer who is a complete stranger but you’re not. We see each other all the time. We’re even friends of a sort.’
Arun cracked another laugh at that.
‘You’re saying it’s definitely me, not you?’
At her exasperated glare, he held up his hands, capitulating.
‘Okay, I get it. I have a solution.’ It was time to play his ace and get Sudarshana where he wanted her. ‘Sit for me again—no, hear me out. Sit for me again. Here, in my studio. During the break, before we all go to Igatpuri. And for every question I ask you, you ask me one. I’ll even sit still if you want to photograph me.’
His heart beat just a little faster at the thought, but he was careful to keep his expression neutral.
Sudarshana looked torn, and he decided to prod a little more. ‘We’ll call it even. The burden of sharing personal details will not be yours alone.’ His voice had quietened with seriousness.
As she closed her eyes and finally nodded, he gave her a small smile. He may be as manipulative as she’d said, but he never reneged on his honest word. No matter how much room for mixed results that created.
~
‘Will you tell me what’s wrong, already? Your moping is driving me up the wall.’
The last time Jahan had seen Vicky had been briefly at Mini’s birthday party and while he’d been slightly under the weather then, he’d written it off as exhaustion. Everyone knew Sudarshana Samarth’s films were gruelling. But now that Vicky had returned to Mumbai, Jahan was concerned. This wasn’t just stress from work. Something was eating at Vicky and he couldn’t figure out what. He’d deliberately invited Vicky over to play FIFA, knowing his propensity to lose his temper, yell at the screen and accuse Jahan of cheating when he lost—the guy was just terrible at all video games. But so far, it had been a bust. His last goal hadn’t even elicited a mild reproof from Vicky.
Vicky didn’t even look at him, apparently intent on the game in front. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Jay, don’t be such a mom. I’m not moping.’
Switching the game off, Jay dropped his controller and turned his chair to face Vicky.
‘Hey! I was just going to make a breakthrough and win this!’
‘Sure, you were. Your unparalleled optimism in your own game-playing ability is matched only by your tendency to sulk like a child when something goes wrong. Spill already.’
Vicky turned his chair to match Jahan’s. ‘What is this, a formal interrogation?’
‘If that’s what it will take. Vicky, you’ve been home for a week. I know for a fact that you’ve barely had two days of shooting since you got back, so don’t give me any bullshit about being stressed out or tired from work. What’s the problem?’
Vicky dropped his head against the back of his chair.
‘God, you’re so nosy. No wonder your nose is that big.’
‘Hey! Low blow.’ Jahan was sensitive about his nose and Vicky knew it.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t have to drag everyone else into my misery.’
‘Will you please explain what your misery stems from, you teenage drama queen?’
‘Have some respect for Lindsay Lohan, man. That was a good movie.’
‘Stop stalling and talk.’
‘Argh . . . I did something stupid. No, scratch that, I did several stupid things.’
‘Which are what?’
‘Well, to begin with, I did the thing you absolutely told me not to. I . . . fell in love with Kritika Vadukut.’
His voice was so quiet, Jahan wondered if he’d misheard.
‘Excuse me, I need to get my ears cleaned. I thought for a moment you said you’ve fallen in love with Kritika Vadukut.’
Vicky opened his eyes and gave him a look of such mute misery, he instantly sobered up.
‘What . . . when? Okay, I’m going to need the full story here.’
‘I don’t know when! How can anyone pinpoint these things? I just did. And she somehow cared about me too, Jay. That was the best part. For a few amazing days, we were together.’
‘What the fuck? When were you going to tell me?’
‘It ended before I could tell you. I . . . betrayed her confidence and she got understandably pissed off. But I hadn’t thought she’d end the relationship over it. She barely talks to me on set now and hasn’t answered any of my calls or the texts I’ve sent her afterwards.’
‘Jesus, Vicky, what did you do?’
‘I can’t tell you. I already broke my promise once, and I’m not going to do it again.’
‘Okay . . . Who did you tell?’
Vicky gave him a speaking look.
‘Fine, fine . . . Wait a minute. Does this have anything to do with the trash your arch nemesis has been writing about her? That whole thing with Abhimanyu Neogi?’
Vicky slapped his forehead. ‘Oh, for God’s sake! How did you even get to that?’
‘It’s literally all over the celebrity gossip sites and news—and there doesn’t seem to be much of a difference between the two these days. I had to wonder if it’s connected. But you bastard, you told Bhaskar Joshi about her affair with Abhimanyu Neogi? I assume that’s a thing of the past since you said you two were together?’
‘I swear, Jay, you are a whole bunch of mohalle-ke-aunties-and-uncles by yourself. First off, I did not say anything to Joshi. I’d cut my tongue out before speaking to him again. Second, Kriti never had an affair with that ass, Neogi. Only the film bit is true, and it has nothing to do with her personal equation
with him. I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST TOLD YOU THIS.’
Jahan couldn’t help chuckling a little.
‘To be fair to you, I figured out most of it. Okay, so since I know all now, why don’t you spell it all out and save me the trouble of more guesswork?’
Vicky sighed.
‘It’s simple. Kriti told me about signing the film and also that it was supposed to be kept quiet. I wasn’t thinking and told Mini about it at her birthday party. This was before we got together, by the way. Joshi cornered Mini at one of these parties and interrogated her. She panicked and told him some bullshit story about Kriti and an imaginary non-actor boyfriend to deflect attention away from her and me. She unfortunately described Neogi rather well and Joshi caught on like the leech he is. He obviously did some digging on his own and figured out the rest. I had to tell Kriti the truth, but I didn’t want to drag Mini into this mess. So, she now thinks I told a whole bunch of random people about her film, and that somehow made its way to Joshi.’
Jahan closed his mouth. ‘This is simple?’
‘Sort of. When you break it down. What is simple is that I failed Kriti in something that is important to her and I want to make it up to her. But she won’t let me. And that hurts more than anything else, if I’m honest. The fact that she doesn’t think I can do better.’
‘Two things. You do know she isn’t obligated to give you another chance.’
Vicky squeezed his eyes closed. ‘I know, I know. But I wish she would.’
‘The other thing is—while you definitely shouldn’t have told Mini, she is your sister and old enough to know better. Why haven’t you told Kritika that it was only her? Or have you, and she’s just as mad at you anyway?’
‘Come on, Jay, you know what Joshi’s questions are like. Mini doesn’t have the experience to deal with that. I shouldn’t have given her the stuff to mess with anyway.’
‘Granted, but stop mollycoddling your sister and allow her to grow up.’
‘I’ll deal with my sister as I see fit, thank you.’