How About a Sin Tonight?

by Novoneel Chakraborty

  ‘Isn’t it better?’ Neev said.

  ‘Fuck off, darling!’ she ripped off his picture and smiled at Shahraan’s.

  A few months later, Neev’s film career finally saw a glimpse of dawn. He met Suparna, an aspiring actress herself, in his Salsa class. As Neev and Suparna got to know each other, they realized they had a common wound: both needed a break. Sometime during the third month, they slept together. Post coitus, as a prize to Neev’s expertise on bed, she confessed she had signed a Bhojpuri film as the lead. She said the producer was looking for a male lead and she could recommend Neev to him.

  Back in their apartment, when Neev told her what he had signed up for, Reva seemed shell shocked.

  ‘Do you even know Bhojpuri?’

  ‘My voice will be dubbed.’

  ‘Listen Neev, just cancel this contract. You have waited so long. Can’t you wait for some more time? You are good. You’ll have your opportunities.’

  ‘This is my opportunity, Reva. I know it’s a Bhojpuri film, but it’s a film nevertheless.’

  ‘What’s the movie called?’

  ‘Tarzan Lautath Ba or something. It means Tarzan returns. It’s an emotional father-son story.’

  Reva kept looking at him forthe longst time and then chuckled indecently. Seeing her laugh made Neev mad.

  ‘Why don’t you say you are plain jealous that I cracked the film thing before you did.’

  Reva’s chuckle went missing in a trice.

  ‘I can’t believe you said that.’

  ‘I’m sharing my joy with you and look at you! You don’t have any film experience anyway. So why don’t you keep your opinion to yourself for a change.’

  Reva stood up and faced him.

  ‘Shut up and listen. I haven’t done any films till now not because I haven’t got any offers like you, but because I’m smart enough to know which ones to let go and patient enough to wait for the roles made for me. Moreover, you know how the offer for girls comes with a hidden offer.’

  ‘Roles made for you? Who are you? Fucking Marilyn Monroe?’

  ‘Ha, ha, ha! Neev has such a nice sense of humour! Happy?’ Crossed, she went to the kitchen. The more she wanted to get this guy, the more churlish he behaved. She knew he was making a blunder and yet he would not give her perspective a chance.

  She scrolled down the names list in her phone. She had to call someone to talk about nothing in particular. Her thoughts paused till she reached a name: ‘Raima’. The fake name was to spare Neev from reaching any undesirable conclusions which he seemed to have a real talent for. She messaged:

  Are you free tonight?

  Going by the diversity he gave her every time they met, she thought he was India on bed. They only knew each other by their moans. They never saw each other or even tried to know the other’s identity. Even the first night they made out in the washroom, Reva was too drunk to remember him. In the past eight months, they had copulated three times. Either she booked the hotel or he did. They connected through messages and once in the hotel room, they intentionally kept the light off and eyes blindfolded. It was an undecided but affirmed agreement.

  For Reva, the sessions were an escape from the quandaries her relationship with Neev put her into. During one such session she also understood why artists, like her, were incorrigible philanderers. They are a rare awakened-mind-inan-aroused-body species, inherently more aware of their inner dimensions than a normal person. And no matter how much those dimensions crave, it’s impossible to find the magical compliments of those dimensions in one single person.

  The fuck sessions were a cheap, hence easy, way to replenish herself to face Neev again. Moving away from him was out of question because a space within her thirsted for him, irrespective of his faults. Conditions of love and consequences of sex—both in the end were necessary evils. There were times when she wanted to tell Neev about the mystery man because it would have made him suffer and in that suffering he would have understood her worth. But her courage gave way because confession was a double-edged sword: it could destroy as ruthlessly as it could build spontaneously.

  The physical roof under which they stayed was still the same, but the emotional roof under which they connected suffered. Reva accepted a mythological serial while simultaneously also doing auditions for advertisements arranged for her by an elderly casting co-coordinator, Vinod ji, with whom she had developed a good working relationship over time.

  Neev was busy building his chemistry with Suparna as per the producer’s wish. Finally, the outdoor leg of the film’s shooting commenced. With Neev gone, Reva decided to visit her father in Delhi. She was welcomed with a series of smiles and waves of hands in her neighborhood. The recognition was her first taste of a spoonful of stardom. She also caught up with her old friend Sheetal who was now a mother. Sometimes others’ achievement reflects one’s own void in life. As Sheetal excitedly talked about how marriage and motherhood changed her, Reva seemed lost. Was it okay to cry because what Sheetal had already gained was what a person actually lives for; a family? Or, should she be happy Sheetal couldn’t gain what she had; recognition? She knew how unfit a family man Neev would be. Some kites should simply be left alone and their movement admired from a distance. Neev was one such kite. She was another.

  Once home, she slept straight for eighteen hours. She got up feeling sick to get a call from Vinod ji.

  ‘Beta, this time it’s a big advertisement.’

  When she heard why it was a big one, all her sickness flew right out of the window.

  The next morning, Reva flew to Mumbai. She went straight to Siddhivinayak temple in Dadar after landing, prayed hard, and refused to move out until the women security personnel pulled her out. It was for the first time she had gone to any religious place in her life. Back in her apartment, she was flipping the newspaper when her eyes went to the daily prediction section: the next five days will be bad… And she didn’t read the rest. To numb her mind, she plugged on her iPod and played all her favourite Whitney, Avril, Rihanna, and Britney numbers. On the second day, Vinod ji rang her again

  ‘I have got a connection.’

  ‘Oh, Vinod ji. Please, make it happen. Please!’

  ‘I’m trying hard, beta.’

  Three days later, she got a confirmation mail for the advertisement. A bit of recommendation and a lot of her good past work was behind it. A draft contract was attached for which she had to reply ASAP. But how could she? Reva was in heaven reading the mail since it stated she would do the ad-film with the endorser of the watch brand: Shahraan Ali Bakshi. And life after the allegorical death seemed so underrated.

  There was a constant buzz on the sets were the advertisement was to be shot, till it was reported Shahraan was arriving in a few minutes. People calmed down while Reva, who was in the make shift make-up room, felt her limbs go numb. An AD came running in to confirm if she was ready.

  ‘I am.’ Her entire body was shaking.

  Outside, the director—Sanjiv Advani—came to her.

  ‘I know you have a television background. But right now, forget melodrama. I want you to be as subtle as possible.’

  ‘Sure.’

  They were supposed to shoot in front of a green screen which would be substituted with some African scenery later during post production.

  Finally Shahraan entered wearing a camouflage shirt and trousers with hunter boots and a tactic vest look alike.

  ‘Everything set?’ he asked. There were five nods. Shahraan noticed only the director’s.

  ‘Where is the girl?’

  Reva was emotionally high, sexually aroused, and spiritually confused—all at the same time.

  ‘There. Reva Gupta,’ said the director introducing her to him.

  ‘I am Shahraan Ali Bakshi. Nice to meet you,’ he offered his right hand. The handshake felt warm and protective.

  ‘God, you are cold!’

  ‘Yeah,’ Reva managed a stupid smile.

  ‘Just calm down. I am sure this ad is mo
re important for you and your career than meeting me.’

  How easily he’d said the truth. Her senses were finally anchored.

  Everything was approved in the third take itself. A moment after the pack up, Shahraan came up to her and said, ‘Where are the red and golden earrings you were wearing in your photographs?’

  For a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about. Then she did.

  ‘Those are my mother’s. They are at my place. Why what’s wrong?’

  ‘Those earrings got you here,’ he smiled and went away. As Reva stood there, uncertain if he was joking or not, a man came running to her.

  ‘Reva Ma’am?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Shahraan sir wants your number. Could you please write it here.’ He gave her a slip of paper and a Mont Blanc pen.

  What the heck is happening? Reva’s hands shuddered as she wrote her name and mobile number. The man scampered off.

  ‘This did not happen. THIS did not happen!’ The first time she said it in her mind. The second time she said it aloud. Vinod ji, who was himself present during the shoot for Reva’s sake, came to her smiling.

  ‘What are you mumbling?’

  ‘I said the man didn’t take my number on Shahraan sir’s behest.’

  ‘Of course he did. Have you gone mad?’

  Once home, she called Neev. Nobody picked up after two full rings. She messaged him instead.

  I met and shot with Shahraan Ai Bakshi!!!!

  He replied after an hour.

  Really??? (Sorry was shooting so couldn’t pick up)

  Yes, yes, yes!!

  He is twenty years older to you.

  Shut up, jealous.

  On the following weekend, Reva got a call from an unknown number. It was Shahraan’s secretary.

  ‘Sir wants to meet you.’

  ‘Me?’ Reva was immediately apologetic for the way she must have sounded.

  ‘Yes. Are you free tomorrow night at nine?’

  ‘Am I free?’

  ‘I am asking you.’

  ‘Yes I am free. Why?’

  ‘I told you sir wants to meet you. Could you meet me near the entrance of Hyatt? I’ll pick you up from there.’

  ‘Okay.’

  The line was cut. Tomorrow night at nine near the Hyatt entrance. She kept repeating softly under her breath and then suddenly shouted at the top of her voice, ‘Tomorrow night at nine near Hyatt!’

  She bought for herself a black ruched LBD, matching lingerie, a clutch, a tiny diamond pendant, and matching heels.

  Reva was on time. As soon as she got down from the hired cab, she saw a black Mercedes standing by the Hyatt hotel’s entrance. A man waved at her. She recognized Krishna—Shahraan’s secretary. She got in and the chauffeur wasted no time to hit the road. He parked at a corner by Nariman Point.

  First she saw a panipuri wallah. Then she saw the man standing beside him wearing a cap, black track trousers, and a tight turquoise-coloured t-shirt. It had a signature on its chest which she knew dearly. The clothing line was in the name of Shahraan. Realizing he was dressed in casuals, she hoped he wouldn’t mind her dressed-for-party attire. Seeing Reva step out of the car, he came up to her and said, ‘Hope you didn’t have any problem?’

  ‘None at all.’ It was then she realized he was sporting a fake beard and a moustache too.

  Shahraan smiled reading her confusion. ‘Without this, I won’t be able to walk with you here. Come,’ he gestured as if requesting her to lead. She did and they started walking alongside the cemented barricade lining the Marine Drive. To their left were couples lost in their own world and to the right there was steady traffic.

  ‘I am sorry to have dressed wrong. I thought—’

  ‘Not your fault. Anyone would have dressed like this. But we wouldn’t have met here if you were just anyone.’

  That was the first clue for Reva to understand it was a dream. She sighed, preparing herself to wake up soon. She was not walking with the legend himself. No way!

  ‘You look beautiful with those earrings.’

  ‘Thanks. If you don’t mind—what is it about them?’

  ‘They remind me of someone. They were a rage some twenty years ago. And I’d gifted them to someone with my first income.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  Shahraan nodded negative.

  ‘The prostitute?’

  Shahraan threw a curt glance at her. She realized it came out rude.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Anyway, she was a lucky girl.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone would ever love me so much to remember my birthday, even after I’m gone like twenty years.’

  ‘Would you do that for someone?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she smiled compulsively. ‘It sounds beyond my emotional capacity.’

  ‘So I thought too. Then of course I fell in love with her.’

  ‘Sorry for being personal, but what actually changed you; her arrival in your life or her departure?’

  ‘Her departure changed my priorities.’ A silence after, Shahraan continued, ‘Her arrival helped me to discover myself. As life went on, I realized how important those discoveries were. It actually kept me going. And what else is love but a tool to dig, to discover what all you need from within you to lead a life of your choice.’

  In the quietude that followed, Reva could hear her heart screaming out to her in beats.

  ‘May I tell you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Your eyes remind me of her. It’s like a time machine where I want to go, but I can’t.’

  Reva had an instant attack of goosebumps. Until that night, she had no idea she could inspire a man like that.

  ‘Why didn’t you get married? You are like forty—’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I guess I’ve become so used to the reactions she once had to my imperfections, my incompleteness, that I fear someone else’s reaction would not be favourable enough.’ A pause later he added, ‘Are you married?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Committed or engaged?’

  ‘Not really.’ The lie was so compulsive that it scared Reva. With those two words—not really—she had so easily disowned the last few years spent with Neev. Why? What for?

  ‘Why do we have to tag everyone as something in our lives?’ she said, swallowing a bit of her own saliva to quench the sudden dryness in her throat.

  ‘The bottom line is, people are need based. And when you have lots of needs, you’ll have to prioritize them lest they confuse you. Tagging people, I guess, helps us subconsciously prioritize our needs.’

  She let the essence of it register with her. Half a minute later she said, ‘Why are we here, Sir?’

  ‘Call me Shahraan. And we are here because I haven’t had pani puris in a long time.’

  It sounded so cute she could have kissed him then. A smile twinkled in her face. ‘When was the last time?’

  ‘With her.’

  ‘Twenty years! You were a cab driver then, weren’t you? I mean, are these stories real?’

  Shahraan laughed out.

  ‘Let me tell you something. Its only when you are successful, people at large realize you are there, existing somewhere. But when you are super successful, people want to know you. They will treat you like an alien for, whether you agree or not, this earth is full of losers and failures. And when they want to know you, just to keep them interested—don’t reveal yourself. So, maybe I was a cab driver. I’m not confessing.’

  Reva smiled feeling emotionally high, sexually aroused, and spiritually confused—all at the same time. Again!

  Reva initially presumed it was just a surreal one-night affair she had with him. But soon she started getting calls from Krishna requesting for some more of her time. She never found herself saying no.

  One night after several such meetings had taken place over the past few months, a message appeared in her mobile phone fr
om an unknown number.

  I think I’ll need you for the rest of the nights that bracket my life. Are you game? It was written Shahraan underneath. Reva only stared at the message for as long as she could. It was a Hobson’s choice for her. She couldn’t take the risk of rejecting his proposal outright. It was Shahraan Ali Bakshi, not some psycho who claimed to love her. A ‘no’ would undoubtedly upset him. Vishal’s story flashed in front of her. Should she upset a man with connections just like that?

  Accepting Shahraan as her lover would be too much for her to handle emotionally. It would invariably make her a weak and biased person. She knew she would be emotionally blind towards him. And that’s suicidal for a relationship. They may have met months back, but she wished for him since her childhood.

  ‘God help me!’

  Precisely then the door bell rang. Neev was back from his outdoor shoot.

  ‘Do you even know how many women Shahraan has slept with?’ Neev asked sitting on a lazy bag sipping coffee. Reva was sitting opposite him. It was a rare instance for him to advise her. He made sure he did it rather well.

  ‘Everybody knows why Shahraan never married. He had some true love shit with a prostitute or something. Christ, what’s that even supposed to mean? It’s all PR, damn it! They mess with the common people. And what never happened with Shahraan in the last twenty years, you are trying to tell me, happened after he saw you donning an old pair of earrings? I haven’t heard anything more stupid than that. It’s a ploy Reva to add you to his use-and-throw bedmate list.’

  ‘But girls like me will happily sleep with him. He doesn’t have to try.’

  ‘Wow! Some lucky sonofabitch he is!’

  ‘Watch your language, Neev. You know what he means to me.’

  ‘Sorry. But I think it would be a mistake to say yes because it can ruin your career.’

  ‘Or take me to greater heights.’

  That sealed Neev’s residual arguments. Reva got a call from Vinod ji who informed her about another audition and she went to her room to get ready. Neev knew if Reva agreed, she would invariably make it to Shahraan’s good books. And then there won’t be any stopping her. But he wanted to make it big before her. Not as a revenge but as a matter of fact. He had seen in her eyes love and care for him, but only till he remained subjugated to her. His secret wish was to make it big in the film industry, marry her, and thereafter burst all her ambition balloons by making her pregnant.