The launch was a huge success and ZMI got a lot of credit and good press for its outstanding work.
After the party, an inebriated Shekhar was dropped home by Chika. All along the way, he sang praises of ZMI. As a carnal treat, he offered Chika a lusty night with any actress in Bollywood that he had the hots for.
Chika smiled and replied “Shekhar, you are a production manager. How many other production managers would there be in Bollywood?”
“About 50 good ones I guess…” Shekhar slurred.
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“And how many reputed Directors, Producers, Casting Supervisors?”
“Around 200, I guess…” He slurred again, not getting Chika’s drift.
“And all 250 of them can give the same offer that you just gave me?” Chika smiled again.
“More or less…” Shekhar replied.
“Hence I decline. I am a simple man and I have simple taste in women.” Chika laughed out loud.
Just then Shekhar got a call from his wife on the new Nokia 2010 that OPR had gifted him a few months ago; Mobile GSM service had just been launched in Bombay (now Mumbai) and he was among the first to buy a Sim Card.
“I will be home soon dear. You know Chika from ZMI, right? Yeah … he is dropping me home.”
“Nice phone,” commented Chika, “how much did it cost you?”
“It is cheaper in Europe, but in India it would cost around 35 thousand,” Shekhar replied, “Very convenient, but the incoming and outgoing charges are exorbitant here.”
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Chika decided then and there that he would get a cell phone for himself and Roy the very next day.
It was way past 2:00 am when they reached Shekhar’s home, but he was still in a mood to celebrate. And he insisted that Chika should join him in his home for a drink for the road.
Chika politely declined but promised to have dinner at his house the next day.
The next day Chika bought a bouquet of orchids and a bottle of good French wine before he went to visit the Saxenas. Since it was a Sunday, it was also his day of rest.
The Saxenas had a nice 3 bedroom apartment near the Diamond Garden in Chembur. Chika was welcomed by a pretty Punjabi lady, who seemed to be a little young to be his wife and a little old to be his daughter.
Rashmi, as it turned out to be, was Shekhar’s second wife. He had lost his first wife to leukaemia a decade ago.
Rashmi was a young divorcee, who had been married to a US based Punjabi NRI who turned out to be already married. He had abandoned her after pocketing a hefty dowry and enjoying a passionate 3 week honeymoon in Kulu Manali, paid for by Rashmi’s parents which had left her pregnant.
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Fortunately for her, she realized she had married a cad and medically terminated the baby, before it was too late. It was hard enough finding a groom for a divorcee, it would have been impossible to get her hitched if she had been a single mom as well.
At that time Shekhar was 40 years old with a 10 year old daughter and 18 years her senior.
The marriage was quickly and quietly arranged and Rashmi moved to Mumbai.
That was 10 years ago. Today Rashmi was 32 years old and Shekhar’s daughter Trisha was just beginning her final year of post-graduation in Hotel Management at the Institute in Shivaji Park in Central Mumbai.
Though it was awkward in the beginning, Rashmi soon realized that it would be better if she became ‘friends’ with Trisha than impose a mother-daughter relationship. It had worked. After initial trepidation, Trisha had warmed up to her and now they were best friends.
Yet Rashmi had a problem. Shekhar was severely diabetic and after a prostrate operation 5 years
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back, had developed erectile dysfunction. Despite her best efforts, she could not get him hard enough to enter her.
He was very conscious about the fact and soon started drinking every night and avoiding her in bed.
Chika’s charm and reputation excited her. While the men consumed scotch, Chika graciously opened the bottle of wine he had brought along for her.
Trisha was also at home. Chika found her to be an intense yet quiet young girl. She was not classically pretty but extremely attractive. She reminded him a little of Shameem.
After spending a couple of hours with the guest, Trisha had an early dinner and excused herself saying that she had to go to a friend’s house for combined studies. But the fact that she was going to a party in Bandra with her boyfriend Nikhil was known only to Rashmi.
Soon after Trisha left, the maid kept dinner ready on the table and left. Shekhar was on his fourth scotch and still very sober. He was going
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on and on about Vikramaditya and how the film would change the landscape of Indian cinema.
Chika, as it was his practice for the past few years, stopped at three drinks. But Shekhar went on regardless.
By the time it was midnight, Shekhar was more than half a bottle down and slurring badly. He even started abusing OPR for choosing his rookie nephew as the director of such a mega project.
Rashmi then served dinner, which was quite delicious. The Mutton Amritsari was perfectly marinated and cooked with Punjabi spices. The steamed Biryani rice was long and segregated perfectly. The side dishes were also delicious, though a bit rich. With every morsel that he chewed, Chika’s respect for Rashmi as a cook increased.
The dessert was even better. He had never tasted better Gajar ka Halwa (a sweet dish made from shredded carrots, milk and cream) in his life. Chika thoroughly enjoyed the meal and complimented Rashmi heartily. Then he turned around to thank Shekhar, only to find him passed
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out on the sofa without touching the dessert in front of him.
Rashmi smiled helplessly at Chika, crinkled her pretty nose and requested, “Chika, could you help Shekhar to bed, while I clear the table? He is a bit too heavy for me to handle!”
By the time Chika had tucked the mumbling Shekhar in bed and switched on the air- conditioner, Rashmi had cleared the dining table and slipped into a short, pink, low cut, frilly negligee and was waiting for him at the doorway of the bedroom.
“All set to go to bed?” Chika asked cheekily as he switched off the light in Shekhar’s bedroom.
“Yes … with you…” She replied, pulling him towards her and closing the door in one motion.
Rashmi’s pearly white, oomphy figure was spilling out of the negligee and he could clearly see her taut nipples fighting against the sheer fabric for prominence.
“I have heard so much about you,” she said in a low whisper, “I have been asking Shekhar to call you home, ever since he met you.”
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“And he obliged … for you?” Chika had his eyebrows raised. “He knows?”
“He prefers not to know,” she replied, sliding her hand on the bulge on his trousers. “You know he can’t get it hard anymore, after his prostrate operation a few years ago.”
“Hmmm…” replied Chika, thinking about his conversations with Shekhar. He liked the old man. He had a sense of humour around him though life had played a joke on him.
“A hot wife and surrounded by gorgeous and easily available actresses and starlets … and no blood rushing into his loins … sad!”
“Enough about Shekhar! I can’t wait any longer!!” She said, her voice hoarse with lust, and led him to the other bedroom across the hall.
Chika let her have her way with him as she pushed him on to the bed and undid his shirt as she frantically kissed him.
She was rubbing her face on his chest … licking, kissing and biting like a starving kid let loose on a lavish buffet.
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Rashmi couldn’t wait to see what she had heard so much about at the kitty parties from the more forward women. She undid his belt and fly and swooped her hand in to pull out his little python.
“Wow! God has been ki
nd to you…” She blurted out, “and to me!!”
She kissed the tip of his head and licked the entire length of his hard organ.
“Man … you were made for women!” She exclaimed and opened her mouth wide and sunk her lips into him. In her frenzy, she almost gagged herself and had to pull her face off him, coughing.
Chika smiled and patted her on her head, “Easy, sweets … easy.”
“Not used to your size,” she said, “But I can get used to it … even get addicted to it…” She smiled, took a deep breath and drew him into her mouth. This time she was gentler on herself.
While he was still in her mouth, Rashmi pulled down his trousers till it was down to his knees then paused for a moment to pull out her own
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negligee revealing her full breasts and long and taut pink nipples.
Chika kicked off his trousers and pulled her towards him and then rolled her on her back as she squealed in delight. His hands exploring her soft mounds while his finger teased her right nipple and his tongue got to work on the other one.
Then he moved down to her. His fingers opening her up as his tongue enveloped her clitoris.
“Ooh Chika … you are so goooood” She moaned, “take me… I can wait no longer!”
Chika pulled out a pillow and placed it under her bottom, elevating her by a few inches as she placed her legs on his shoulders.
“Fuck me Chika,” she extolled, “like you have never fucked anyone in your life!”
Then Chika entered her slowly as she took deep breaths to accommodate him. With every deep breath, he would push an inch more till he was three quarters in.
Rashmi felt like she was being split into two “Enough…” she pleaded, “can’t take you in anymore…”
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“You will,” laughed Chika, “once you get used to it sweets,” and began stroking, slowly in the beginning but gathering speed and depth.
Rashmi could not speak, she could only gasp at every stroke. She had not known such pleasure in her life. She held on tightly to him and moved her hips upwards to the rhythm of his strokes.
“Chika… oh my God…you are the best… yessss…” She orgasmed for the second time, her soft body tightening against his. But he went on and on for the next 15 minutes, ploughing into her as she hung on like a ragged doll, till he ejaculated forcefully into her.
While he was still in her, he turned around on his back pulling her on top of him as they both lay panting, sweating like pigs in the air- conditioned bed room.
An hour later, as Chika was driving back home he smiled, shook his head, and said to himself. ‘There goes Sunday, my fucking day of rest!’
He then reached out to the glove compartment and played Ozzy Osborne’s “No Rest for the Wicked” on the car stereo.
The shooting of the Magnum opus Vikramaditya started in full swing. Huge sets were erected in a studio next to the famous R. K. Studios in Chembur.
The launch of the trailer at the Taj had got what it was envisaged for. There were a lot of NRI investors interested in the project, but OPR was playing hard ball, trying to get the best deal.
In the meanwhile, since no bank or financial institution would fund the film industry, OPR borrowed heavily from the underworld to meet the heavy, immediate financial requirement.
The fact that he had no shortage of funds, he thought would put him in a better bargaining position against the NRI investors.
The loans were short term, high interest and secured only by the lives of the borrowers.
Realising the Special FX and post production would form a major chunk of the expenses, OPR
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also struck a deal with ZMI making them Co- Producers of Vikramaditya with a 25% stake in the project. The movie was such a safe bet that Roy, Chika and Ballu had no qualms about signing the deal.
The shooting was going on fine till one day the heroine of the film Roshni Kapoor stopped reporting for shooting. The unit waited and wasted an entire day and reported the incident to OPR.
OPR called Roshni, but her secretary picked up and curtly told OPR that Roshni will not be reporting for shooting anymore. The fact was that Roshni was signed on as the heroine of Vikramaditya before the international hype and now her coterie had convinced her that she had undersold herself.
OPR had a meeting with Roshni the next day. After two hours of discussion, OPR came out fuming. Roshni had refused to continue with the film unless she was given a 200% fee hike!
In a fit of rage, OPR replaced Roshni in the film
with an upcoming actress Payal Sharma.
Roy, Chika and Ballu exchanged glances and smiled when Shekhar announced the development to them.
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“Lip service takes you a long way,” commented Ballu after Shekhar left.
Payal was a competent and hardworking actress though. Replacing Roshni meant re-shooting many parts of the film. She got through them with élan and also started a rollicking affair with the young director Karan Rajan.
OPR was a man possessed. He wanted to release Vikramaditya in a year’s time. He spared no expense and got technicians and stunt directors from Hollywood. Special FX was going on simultaneously. Four more high-end computers were installed in ZMI and Inferno operators from Singapore were brought in on a contract basis.
OPR was having regular meeting with foreign financers. But he was still playing hard ball and not willing to budge an inch. 60% of the film had been shot in just 4 months at an expense of over 30 crore Indian rupees.
Then OPR called a press release at the Taj Mahal hotel and stated that he had finalized the overseas rights of the film for 30 crores and he was going to LA the next day to ink the deal.
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That night, champagne flowed and the cast and crew partied till late night.
OPR had a closed door meeting with his partners while the party was on. He told Roy, Chika and Ballu that he would return the money he had borrowed from the underworld from his account in Cayman Islands while he was in the US.
OPR was happy. His dream was finally fructifying. He was glad he waited and played tough to get what he wanted. He was in his element, popping champagnes with celebrities and toasting to the success of Vikramaditya.
The journalists got their bytes and many of them were thinking of headlines while they drank. It was a great day for Indian film industry. It had finally come alive.
The next morning, OPR was found dead in his rented apartment in Bandra. The cause of death was a massive heart attack.
The news of OPR’s death spread like wild fire and all hell broke loose. The investors backed off, the underworld tightened the screws and young Karan Rajan escaped to Tahiti, never to be heard of again.
For Roy and Chika, it was a flashback of the 1992 stock market crash! The underworld came calling, asking for their money and as official partner in the venture, ZMI had no escape but to bear the brunt of the threats and demands.
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