Ufff, he’d pricked himself again. But he didn’t really mind it, now that it was nearly done…it had taken him days…and nights…but he’d done a good job of it. Now, just that patch on top, the crown. He’d thought he would do it with Ma’s, and the rest of the hair he had off Menoka, she really had been his favourite one. But now, he chewed his dry lip…that bit was going to have to wait. For her locks. She would need some working on, that he could tell, way too much fire in her…but he loved that in them. Menoka had that fire in her, she had wanted to be at the top, only somewhere she had lost track, then she had only wanted him…to be his. He would watch as she would comb her long hair every night, and lovingly collect what came off on the comb. Still it had not been enough. So he had made her sit before the long mirror and taken more of her tresses, from where she did her parting. She had let him, she would let him do anything that he asked. It had, of course, spoiled the thrill a little bit, towards the end. Getting it all so easily out of her. Not like at first, when she would fight him off sometimes. He had liked to play that game with her. Giving her the advantage, letting her think that she had won…that he loved her enough to step back, let her have her way. Day by day it had enslaved her to him, to the love that she thought bound them together. And then she had lost that fire…the more he had pushed her the more she had given in. It had gotten so very tiresome, Menoka and the tears that welled up in her eyes. He had wanted to see the fire there, fire that he could then play with…like the sparks that had flown from that Rajubala’s eyes.
He put down his needle. It was light outside. He took the mesh off the wooden head and studied his night’s work. Then looked at himself in the long mirror and placed it on his head. The hair fell nicely together…well below his shoulders…what he had taken from them, all of them. Now only that bit on the top where the mesh still gaped. And for that he would have to wait a bit. Till he could run his hand through her tresses…till she would let him slice off, from just a hair’s breadth above the scalp from where it sprouted. He had spent days at that wig maker’s opium smoky den in the China para, watching as the old man’s shaky fingers threaded his sharp needle… how he had so deftly woven strands after strands after strands on his wig heads. Hair that once grew on living heads, now dead. He had imagined it so many times, sitting Ma down at her dressing table and shaving her off, like they took the hair off them widows. Ma hadn’t shaved hers, it made her look even more beautiful in her widow’s whites. He had looked long and hard as she had sat by the window in the sun drying her long hair. Then Putu…Ma would rub oil on her head, comb, then plait her hair tightly. Say to Putu that she would have hair like her. He’d gotten that turd-like coil, held her back by it and snipped it away…all of Ma’s work gone in making it long and fat. He’d wanted tresses of his own when he was still not as high as her waist and her locks would sweep the top of his head. Only Ma wouldn’t hear of it. She’d screwed up her nose and laughed at him, ‘Long hair like me…ja, stupid boy…’
He’d gotten his tresses alright, so what if Ma hadn’t let him. How nicely the dark hair set on his head. It wasn’t for them worms, such beauty.
II
Ramola stared at her plate of roast chicken from the studio’s canteen, then pushed it away. The chicken’s legs wagged themselves at her, like they would jump out of the plate and start dancing about her. Goading and mocking her…like that girl. She shook her head. Made her head reel, even thinking of the rehearsals they had had these last four, no, five days. Poor Nishith Babu had come close to tearing out his hair. ‘No, no, ma, no, not that way… be calm…’, he even called her to him, putting a hand on her head, but that little wretch simply wouldn’t take heed. Kept on with it, like it was one of those char anna wala action romances of hers. Mira was emotion, it was about her eyes, and the pain in them and her devotion. She was the Lord’s dasi lost in His love…his sevika, not a charmer. And here was this girl, throwing herself like that, so very insolent…uncouth. She couldn’t look their young assistant cameraman in the eye. Even Bimal Babu had hung his head. Those shots could not be used, of that she was certain.
She took a sip from her glass. Would she have to give up on Mira…close down Bharat Talkies, by and by? She still wanted to go on, but how, with this wretched girl they had thrust on her? She still found it hard to believe. Kedar Babu…Shankar had trusted him so very much. That morning, two weeks before, when she had called him to the office, only to ask his assistance for Mira, he had come prepared. It would be foolhardy, her acting and directing, he had said. They could not risk it. Not at this most critical of times. It might cost Bharat Talkies its good name…his mind had been made. ‘And the truth, Madam…’ he had paused a few seconds before saying it, ‘is that it might be best that you not appear in a bioscope picture just yet, given your good name…your very illustrious family, your image. The public might not see it in the right way, a widow…people have their ways of thinking, you know that. They are not so educated… and there are one or two’, he’d coughed delicately, ‘love scenes I understand…with Devdutt, dream sequence… and then, a little bit dancing also, all in the dream sequence, naturally. But you know some of the studios. They will pay the papers to write just about anything… about you and Shankar Da. It will not be good Madam, for you or the studio.’
A popular face, he had said. Some young girl perhaps, he hoped that Madam did not mind, him saying it. It would cut the risk, at this time, what with the studio now having only this one big picture. Dev Burma saheb’s picture, who knew now what would come of that one. Madam herself was in a class of her own, but she might not be accepted by the audience, not right away… not so quickly after her husband’s sad demise, that too in the role of a woman lost in love, and leaving the home of her husband. Perhaps in one more year, a more mature role befitting her present position. No explaining, no argument…nothing had moved him. He had put it simply to her, ‘You take up the direction Madam, but get another face…it is the general view…’
She had asked, ‘Who Kedar Babu? Which of our girls could do it? You know, it will not be an easy character to play, especially in the later parts…’
‘Why one of ours, Madam?’ He’d fumbled an instant, ‘…someone…from outside.’
‘From outside, who?’ she’d been flummoxed. Surely he knew it that any actress worth her name would be contracted with some studio or other. ‘Do you mean someone from Bombay? Or Lahore? This is not any naachgaanawali’s job Kedar Babu, you know we need somebody with a screen presence, someone who is an artiste in her own right…perhaps somebody like Bombay’s Mrs Khote if she were not too advanced in her years…not just anybody with a pretty face will do.’
‘There is Rajbala Dasi, Madam…she…had shown interest. They say she is made for the bioscope, though most certainly, she will need a little bit of direction…and guidance.’
‘Rajbala who?’ she had been unable to place her at first. No one in the business really called her that.
‘Unique Pictures Madam…Raju…Darling.’
She’d balked. ‘Kedar Babu, are you in your right mind? What are you saying? This is not some two anna, four anna picture. Do you even know what class of public goes to watch that girl…how could you even…’ she’d felt her cheeks start to burn.
Kedar had replied slowly, a little bit unsure even, she had thought later.
‘If you will pardon me, Madam…this is a critical time for us all…for Bharat Talkies. If we are to survive, then…for a little while we must step down…from the high values that Shankar Da had imparted to us all. I am sure you know what rumours are floating. That Bharat Talkies is finished, now that Shankar Da is no more. We need a quick hit, something keeping an eye on the market…it will keep the audience with us.’
‘And you want to make Shankar’s Mira that quick hit Kedar Babu, what had been his labour of love…what he…and I…what we have spent our days and months over?’
He had refused to meet her eyes. ‘I understand that Madam, but it is the only way out
now, without Shankar Da directing. I beg your pardon, but it cannot be that same great work now…also, if I have not heard wrong, Avinash Mukherjee is now uncertain at best, of Miracle’s partnership? Then why not make it commercial, for the market…the studio has to run…’
‘And Kedar Babu,’ she had had to fight hard to keep her rising anger from showing, ‘you say this Rajbala… this Raju Darling is the one for us?’
Kedar had not answered her directly. ‘She has her market, Madam, whatever anyone says. True, she is not of high class, but how many of our studio girls are? Haven’t we trained and educated them, as far as it is possible? It is the nature of our line, you know it as well as I. Rajbala is under contract with Unique studio but they have allowed her one outside picture…that is known in studio circles. They will release her twelve days a month or for good even, as I understand it, depending on how Unique can be compensated. She herself…Rajbala… is rather eager to leave that place. She could be engaged wholly as a permanent staff.’
‘May I ask Kedar Babu, what is the source of this information, on this Rajbala? Has she contacted you directly? Or through someone else at Bharat Talkies?’
Kedar had pursed his lips and studied the teacup before him a few long seconds as her unease had built up, then looked in her eyes.
‘Let us say Madam that she is known to me…in a… very personal way,’ he had spoken strangely, making her frown.
‘Personal Kedar Babu? How…do you mean? Surely…’ Ramola’s voice was a whisper, ‘you cannot mean…’ Kedar had dropped his eyes. But the sharpness of his voice stayed.
‘No Madam, there is no mistake here. I stand personally for Rajbala, and I request you to engage her for this one picture at least…for my sake…in the present situation…we must see how we can keep our market…’
‘I…I find this very hard to believe Kedar Babu… you…it cannot be…’
Kedar had shaken his head, ‘I had found it hard to believe myself, but so it is. I have given my word…I cannot go back now. You have tried so many girls, can you not train her Madam, artiste of your calibre? Rajbala…she is not high class but she is…highly popular.’
‘And if I do not agree to this Kedar Babu? You understand, of course, that the final decision will be mine and this Rajbala of yours seems to me to be rather a miserable and cheap way out, even in our present circumstances. Also, I am not sure how you or I can explain this to anyone here at the studio. This will not be like any of our other girls…we created them, here at Bharat Talkies, gave them screen names, introduced them to the world as we wanted them to be…without Bharat Talkies they were nothing. But this Rajbala… she is already rather a sensation, as you yourself say. She has her image, how in the wide world can we make her fit here at Bharat Talkies? Can we introduce her as we in the bioscope business are so used to doing…as so and so educated girl from such and such good family, who considers bioscope a form of art? It will become a laughing matter. What of our image? I will be answerable Kedar Babu…it cannot happen. I simply cannot allow it.’
Kedar had laughed. She had not known him like that before. ‘Certainly Madam, you can turn me away. You are the malik here, I am just a worker. Yet, Madam, your studio is run by workers like me, Palash and Bimal, and Anil whom you had shown the door after all what he has given to Shankar Da…to Bharat Talkies.’
‘Anil…shown him the door…what do you mean, Kedar Babu? Anil was here even this morning to speak with me on some matters…here at this office.’
‘Yes Madam, he came back to the studio, only on my telling. He was leaving on Sunday, in the night. Back to his hometown. He had come to me to tell me. That he could no longer be at Bharat Talkies. I stopped him.’
‘Leaving…for Comilla? Why? Whatever for?’ she had been astounded.
‘Because Madam, he had made the mistake of trying to guide you through some matters…feeling a responsibility, and knowing that Shankar Da had forever wished to keep you secure. But you told him his place…like you told me my place, here, just now,’ his eyes had blazed at her.
Ramola had struggled to find words. Why hadn’t she spoken with Anil like she had thought she would? She had just let it blow over, that day of Avinash Mukherjee’s visit…then, again, the day that Shankar’s dada had come to the studio. But then, Anil had seemed alright…
Kedar was speaking softly. ‘We…us all…we are in Shankar Da’s debt. There was no distance between him and us. He was one of us, and he would say that Bharat Talkies belonged to us all. You might think differently Madam, but we still believe in him, what he had given to us…and in that we are all together. That is why I did not let Anil go away. You can refuse me, but then they will refuse you Madam…this studio will come to a stop.’ He had sighed, looking suddenly despondent. ‘Bharat Talkies will be finished, only you do not realise it…’
‘I’m not sure what you mean Kedar Babu, I have made no changes whatsoever. Everything is the same as before, as Shankar had it, as we have always had it.’ Ramola was sharp.
Kedar was shaking his head. ‘No Madam, you do not understand. It is how they now feel, that they have no say anymore…that Bharat Talkies is no more their own, like it used to be, when Shankar Da was there.’
‘Is it Anil only? Or, the rest too?’
‘Anil is not alone. I said to you Madam…there is no difference between us. We are all together, Anil, Palash, Bimal, myself…we who were with Shankar Da from the start.’
‘But that is why I had asked to see you Kedar Babu, to ask your assistance. Because I wanted you…you all…to stand by me like you had stood with Shankar. You were there, dada, when I acted in my first picture, when I was not Ramola Devi. You had stood by Shankar, and me… why should everything change now that I have stepped into his shoes? Now that I wish to make his picture? Is it because I am a woman Kedar Babu that you do not have trust in me? That I could lead Bharat Talkies like Shankar? What is it?’ Ramola’s voice had risen.
She had gotten up and walked to the window where she would unfailingly position herself during her arguments with Shankar. It had allowed her to steady herself.
‘Why do you think I cannot act and direct? Because I have never directed before? But that was why I wanted you all with me…? Do you not have faith in us all together?’
‘Madam, it will be seen as your endeavour to benefit yourself, through and through, in the circumstances… if you act and direct. As if…do not take it otherwise Madam, you are not sufficiently affected by Shankar Da’s death, that you now wish to make it your stepping stone. There has been a…a discontent…within the studio. Not to speak of all the talk outside. You must allow people’s sympathy…mark my words, it will serve you well.’ He had been beseeching, yet unyielding.
‘But I don’t want sympathy, Kedar Babu. I want the best for Bharat Talkies. And no one knows Mira more than me, or how Shankar had thought it. And certainly not your Rajbala, Kedar Babu. That class of girl cannot give shape and form to Shankar’s last work.’
‘This is no longer Shankar Da’s work, Madam. He is gone. And if you wish, I will go as well…leave Bharat Talkies today, here and now. I have given my word, I cannot go back on it. And if then you cannot stop some of the others, do not hold me responsible.’ He had not relented.
She had given in in the end, knowing Kedar would be true to his words. And to Rajbala Dasi’s entry into Bharat Talkies. She hadn’t spoken with any of the others, though she had wondered first if she should. It would not have been of any use. Kedar Babu would take it as an affront. It would break Bharat Talkies. Kedar was right, it was he…and them…that were holding the studio… not her. She had thought long and hard after that day. And the truth was that all of this time she had had only Shankar by her side. She had kept formality and they too had built their walls.
Why hadn’t Shankar seen it…that she was alone? So far removed from the rest of them. But then was it even possible for a lady to be one with her workers in the way that Shankar had been? She had valued her superior
ity, and her distance from them all, and it had come with its price. With Shankar gone they were one in their love for him…and against her. Was it also because Shankar had been so open in his love for her? Perhaps it had done her more harm than good. Pitted her against everybody else that had loved him so dearly. It was Kedar they now sought, a leader who was one of them. And Kedar had gotten his way, on her giving up Mira to that girl he wanted to bring to Bharat Talkies. He would speak to them all, he had said, about this change, the reasons for it. They would understand if he explained, Madam needn’t worry. They should get a contract done, to release the girl from Unique studio guaranteeing them a suitable sum. And best to keep Nishith Babu at hand while they went about making the picture…him being a veteran in the line, and not knowing what might be said if she took it all over.
‘Who has spoken with her, Kedar Babu?’ she had asked as she had put her signature on the contract papers. ‘Will she…come here to sign it? How is the money to be paid to Unique studio? Do you know that they will not ask for more?’
He had been like the Kedar Babu of old. ‘You can leave it to me Madam, it will all be done, I can assure you that. There is somebody there…to speak with her, and Unique. Rajbala…I understand…will be at your service from the date given on these papers, which is… Monday next.’
Menoka has hanged herself Page 13