by Ruby Gupta
It began during their first film together. They had a two-month shoot scheduled at various locations in Europe.
In retrospect, Remanika could never understand what had happened.
Was it the exotic locales, or the proximity to one of the most handsome men she had ever come across – she could never figure it out. But it was like she had been hit. Hit by an avalanche of emotions of fierce desire, longing, need, craving, addiction…
Was this love? She did not know.
All she knew was that she wanted to be with him all the time. It was as if he was in her blood and she needed her constant fix of him in order to function normally.
Strangely enough, he seemed to mirror all these emotions too. The two were caught up in such extreme passion that nothing else mattered.
Six months into the affair, Remanika realized that she had to get out of it. The relationship was becoming toxic, at least for her. She was slowly being drawn into a kind of prison. Her star-boyfriend began controlling everything. What she wore, what she ate, whom she met, whom she talked to – he had to not only know every little detail, but it all had to meet his approval too. A dangerous side of him began to come to the forefront. If she kept anything from him, even inadvertently, or did not follow his advice, he would become furiously irate. After every episode of losing it and becoming angry with her, he would be so contrite, so apologetic and beg so tearfully for her understanding, that she would easily forgive him. Then he would smother her with such extreme love and caring, that she would feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Gradually, his episodes of becoming upset with her began to increase in frequency. Once, he even came close to hitting her. This was after seeing photographs of one of her photo shoots, in which according to him, she wore particularly revealing clothes. Remanika began getting alarmed. Even though after the outburst, he was more loving than usual – bought her an enormous diamond pendant and whisked her to Madrid for a week-long getaway.
But Remanika was now fearful of him. She became particularly careful not to antagonize him. Her mother pointed out that she was turning into a puppet controlled by him. As long as she followed his dictates, everything was fine; but for how long could this continue? She knew she needed to break away, but did not know how.
Meanwhile, her films were doing well and she was being recognized as a consummate actress. One day she received an offer from a top award-winning director for the lead in a woman-centric film. It was the chance of a lifetime. The role was challenging and it was sure to win her the National Award for Best Actress. The only catch was that it entailed a mandatory lovemaking scene given the bold theme that the movie revolved around.
Remanika knew that there was no way that her boyfriend would allow her to do the film. But this film was something that she had been waiting for, all her life. It would truly establish her credentials as an actress, instead of just a model-turned-star. She desperately wanted respect in the industry, respect for her talent as an actress. So should she go ahead, and do the film without telling her boyfriend and take her chances or should she tell him everything and have him forbid her, she wondered.
The choice was tough. Her mother advised her to tell the truth from the beginning. Taking her advice, Remanika did so. The result was predictable. She was given a choice – it was either her man or the film. She chose the latter. Soon she shifted to a place of her own. This rejection was more than what her star-boyfriend could handle. Till date – in his entire life no woman had ever rejected him. Soon he was stalking her, turning up at her sets, at her apartment, and calling her up relentlessly.
One night, after a pathetically long conversation over the phone whilst he stood outside her door, Remanika let him inside her apartment. The ensuing discussion soon turned into an argument and he hit her. A shocked Remanika called her mother, who upon seeing her black eye, called the police. This was the final break. Remanika filed for a restraining order against him and that was the end of the one and only love of her life.
Till the end she could not really be sure of what it was – was it love, or addiction, or what?
The film did win her the National Award for Best Actress along with sundry other best actress awards as well. Instantly she came into the big league. Soon she had a film with the reigning superstar, Rajvir Kapoor. Remanika was thrilled.
Knowing Rajvir’s reputation with the ladies, she took care to keep a distance from him. Curiously enough, he did not make a single move on her. This miffed her. What was the matter? she thought. Was she not good enough for him, or attractive enough, or beautiful enough?
The reason soon became clear. One day he took her aside, sat her down and asked her about her future plans. Admittedly, until that point, Remanika had not really thought of any future plans as such. When she said so, Rajvir launched into a long counselling about how important it was for a girl in her position to have some kind of backing, some kind of support system in the industry.
Rajvir then said something that she could never have imagined. ‘I would like you to be my daughter-in-law,’ he said.
Remanika was shocked. Was he drunk, she wondered.
After the silence stretched for long, he asked again, ‘Well?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she stuttered.
‘You know my son, Amar?’ he said.
‘Yes.’ Remanika certainly knew about Amar, the flop son of Rajvir. She had also heard some unsavoury rumours about him.
As if reading her mind, Rajvir continued, ‘Well, I’m proposing a win-win deal for the two of us. You marry my son and gain respect and position in the industry; as also life-long stability,’ he paused.
Remanika waited for the catch.
‘And I get stability for my son and an end to the nasty rumours about him,’ he smiled.
All through the seven-month shoot of the film, Rajvir worked at her resistance. He invited her to his home as also to all his family’s social functions. She got to know Pallavi and Amar; and realized that she quite liked them. It seemed to be a very nice proposition. When her mother learnt about the proposal, she wondered why Remanika was delaying taking a decision. ‘You will not get a better match than this,’ her mother told her repeatedly. The continued and combined cajoling finally got to her and she agreed to the match.
Their wedding was the most lavish the industry had ever seen. Everyone who was anyone was invited during the week-long celebrations. Remanika believed that she had truly hit the jackpot. She had everything that any girl could possible ask for.
But it was too good to last.
A sort of anti-climax followed the wedding. Amar was somehow never at home. He was always away on some pretext or the other. Rajvir went back to his busy shooting schedule and Pallavi was always busy in her various film, television, and social commitments. Remanika had foolishly stopped signing films given her impending marriage and was now alone at home with nothing to do. Her mother asked her to look at the bright side, that Remanika could enjoy herself and be a lady of leisure. But having always worked ever since leaving school, Remanika did not know how to live unless she was working.
Six months later, when the doctor prescribed her anti-depressants, Remanika knew that she had to take action, or else her very existence was threatened. Immediately she rehired her former secretary and put out word that she was looking for a comeback. Initially, there were no offers as everyone was wary about offering anything to Rajvir Kapoor’s daughter-in-law, lest he disapproved. Remanika felt a searing resentment well up within her for Rajvir. The man had ruined her. It was because of him that she was in this pathetic condition. She spent her days being brain dead in front of the television and the nights in a sleeping pill induced stupor. She had never been so alone in her life.
Another six months went by, and still there was no work for her. Remanika knew it was time she had a word with her father-in-law.
‘Okay, so you conned me,’ she said without any preliminaries.
‘You have everything that
I had promised,’ Rajvir Kapoor was cool.
‘What about Amar?’ she challenged.
‘I had promised you stability, position and life-long security. And that is what you have got.’
Remanika was quiet. ‘Okay, but please let me work or else I will go mad, sitting alone at home,’ she pleaded.
‘Okay,’ Rajvir relented.
A week later, there was an offer for her. It was not exactly big league, but a desperate Remanika grabbed it. She knew that it was courtesy Rajvir, and this made her dislike him even more. But after that Remanika managed to steadily get offers. Soon it was as if she had never married Amar and life went back to normal.
But somehow, she could never forgive Rajvir for what he had done to her. Maybe, just maybe she could have met someone, fallen in love and married him, if she had not got married to Amar, she often fantasized. Now since she was a married woman, and that too Rajvir Kapoor’s daughter-in-law, no man approached her, much less made a pass at her. But now Rajvir was dead – as he rightly deserved to be. Maybe now, maybe now, she would be able to come out of the shadow of the Rajvir clan and live a fulfilling life, Remanika thought, as a tear of self-pity slipped out of the corner of her eye.
Chapter 5
As Inspector Bhogle’s vehicle entered the porch of Xanadu, he marvelled at the idiosyncrasies of the stars. Xanadu was the name of Rajvir Kapoor’s ritzy new home, which had been completed a year ago.
Built at a cost of over two billion dollars, the palatial home, comprising thirty storeys was located in the heart of Mumbai. It was on its way to becoming one of the famous landmarks of Mumbai and a must-go-to tourist destination for small town hicks.
Xanadu had everything that one could think of, and more. From 400,000 square feet of floor space, artistic, residential, and guest accommodation, maintenance levels, a ball-room (with wall-to-wall crystal chandeliers), private theatre, multimedia gaming zone, multi-storey garage, gyms, three stories of parking levels, a garden level, library floor, swimming pools, and ice room with snow flurries – the house had it all. It also included a lobby, several drawing rooms, sitting rooms, living rooms, dining rooms, exotic bathrooms, Jacuzzi, dance and yoga halls, a playpen that housed snooker and table tennis tables and a basketball section. The top floor had a study that opened into a terrace garden with a personal helipad.
It was a marvel in architecture with gorgeous design methods implemented by Chicago’s famed designers, Hoffman and Guise.
The interiors created as per Pallavi’s directions were a study in extreme opulence. It was a veritable palace – the ultimate in luxurious living.
Bhogle was here to begin his interrogation of the people in the VIP guest list of the party. Almost all the people who had been on the list were scheduled to visit Xanadu to convey their condolences. Bhogle had decided that this was the most opportune moment to have a word with all of them. Otherwise it would be very difficult to meet and talk to each one separately. The logistics of it would never work out, particularly given the fact that these were extremely busy people.
Ensconced in one of the sitting rooms, which had turned into an interrogation area of sorts since the last time he was here, Bhogle went through the list. All the notable people, about whom he had previously only read about in newspapers, were present in the list.
He took a deep breath. He would have to very careful about how he worded his questions.
It would not do to antagonize any of these big shots.
Somewhat nervously he twirled his handlebar moustache.
Mentally he went through his rehearsed sentences. He would begin by saying that it was just a routine information-gathering exercise. Then, he would simply ask about their closeness to the star, and about the exact time-period during which they had been present at Xanadu on the night of the murder.
This would be enough to give him some idea about the possible suspects, if any, from the guest list.
He leaned back to wait.
The guests would be escorted here by Rose, once they had finished offering their commiseration to Pallavi Kapoor.
Inside the central drawing room, an irritated Pallavi was dealing with the numerous people who had come to pay their respects and offer their condolences. These social niceties always got on her nerves and she longed to escape to her sanctuary – her bedroom. But that would not do. These were people from the film industry, political bigwigs, and corporate honchos, who would not take to it very kindly. She had better hang around, grit her teeth, and suffer through the ordeal.
It seemed to her that most of them had come more for the photo-op than anything else. Everybody who was anybody, wanted to be publicly seen as paying his or her respects to the departed star and his family. She could catch snatches of whispered speculations about the cause of death, the circumstances around it, and the impact it would have on the films that Rajvir had not yet completed. Presumably, people were here to offer their compassion, but in actuality, they seemed more concerned with gossip. This was what the world was like, Pallavi sighed deeply.
She espied Jyothika and her son Chandra Prakash, making their way towards her. Her expression hardened. How dare they, she thought. A wild rage rose within her. She wanted to scream for her guards and order for them to be thrown out. But she did not do anything of the sort. By the time they reached abreast, Pallavi knew that her face had reddened in ire. Her mind became blank, her senses shut down, and she could not hear a single word of sympathy that the duo uttered. Thankfully, a moment later, it was over. The two left.
For the entire afternoon thereafter, a jealous rage continued to gnaw at Pallavi’s insides. Jyothika was the third wife of the late Rajvir Kapoor. She had been his heroine for over a decade.
This was nothing new.
Rajvir always did have a weakness for women. However, to his credit he always treated his current woman like a princess. And that was perhaps his charm. Even the women whom he had loved and left, never spoke a word against him.
Pallavi had always known of Rajvir’s penchant for beautiful women. But her extreme youth had convinced her that marriage to her would cure him of all such predilections.
But that was not to be.
Within a year of marrying her, there were rumours of Rajvir having an affair with an upcoming star.
He had fervently denied it to her teary-eyed face. And she had believed him too. At the time, she was hopelessly in love with his charisma and was ready to believe every word that he uttered.
Over the years, Pallavi was forced to accept the truth about Rajvir. She had no choice. She could take recourse to one of two paths: accept it and remain his wife, or accept it and leave him. In both cases, acceptance was mandatory.
She could never really understand it herself why she chose to stay, in spite of knowing that he was unfaithful to her, was cheating on her. Could it be that she could not stay away from him and continued to love him? Or was it because she gave birth to Amar within a year of marriage? Or was it simply because she did not have the guts to go back to being plain and simple Pallavi, the opposite of Mrs Kapoor, the wife of superstar Rajvir Kapoor and the position it accorded her? She honestly did not know.
Pallavi asked Rose to send her a cup of her favourite chamomile tea, whilst she settled down in her favourite place – the small hidden alcove, that lead onto a terrace overlooking the garden.
Quietly sipping her tea, she was lost in silent introspection.
The events since Rajvir’s death had moved so rapidly that she had not had time to assimilate everything. Now she wondered how life would be with Rajvir gone. Admittedly, it would not make much difference to her. The two had led separate lives for more than a decade. So, she would in most likelihood, continue with her life, like she always had.
Amar too would in all probability continue the same as before. Only now, there was an even lesser chance of saving him than before. After all, no matter how old a son became, a parent, particularly a father’s influence was instrumental, in ensuring his cont
inued well-being and stability. A tear threatened to spill out of one eye.
‘So here you are. I knew I would find you here,’ Dr. Singhvi entered the alcove.
Hastily, Pallavi controlled herself, smiled tremulously, and indicated for him to take a chair with a wave of her delicate hand.
As Dr. Singhvi lowered himself heavily into the plush chair, Pallavi called for Rose to get another cup of tea. She was glad at the intrusion; otherwise, she would have been in tears by now.
‘I hope you are all right, my dear,’ Dr. Singhvi spoke astutely.
‘Yes; as much as possible,’ Pallavi was truthful.
‘Don’t worry, I – we, are here for you,’ Dr. Singhvi spoke gravely.
Rose entered with a cup of tea and some biscuits. She was glad to see Dr. Singhvi with her mistress. She often worried about Pallavi, and was happy to see that the good doctor was lending her much needed support.
‘Thank you,’ Dr. Singhvi mumbled.
Rose left.
Gruffly he cleared his throat and continued, ‘Now Pallavi, you know I have great regard and affection for you. And – and, I could do anything, anything, for you. You know that, don’t you? You need just ask.’
‘Yes,’ Pallavi nodded. ‘I know you would do anything for Rajvir. I know how close you were to him and how much you care for us as a result.’
Dr. Singhvi was quiet for some time, wondering whether he should say what was there in his mind. Then taking a decision he said, ‘Yes, dear, I was close to Rajvir. But I know he was not without fault. I have seen how you have stood by his side, even though he made choices that were an insult to you. I can’t tell you of the number of times I have counselled him to treat you with respect.’
What was the doctor saying? For a millisecond, Pallavi thought that she had somehow misheard what had just been spoken.
‘And when Rajvir continued his wayward ways, I was deeply upset and always wished I could do something – anything for, for you. To make your life better. Somehow give you the love, affection, care and respect that you deserve,’ Dr. Singhvi spoke in a rush, his voice throaty with passion.