by Saranya Rai
‘National level, I did. Anyway, I’d be happy to aim shuttlecocks at anyone trying to attack you.’
‘I think your elbows would be adequate. I saw you practise that mock fight sequence with Rajni. Achha, please be gentle with me when we rehearse together and actually shoot it.’
‘I’m always gentle.’
A skittering heat swept through Vicky’s limbs, settling in his chest.
‘Baby, you’re a nightmare dressed like a daydream?’
She scrunched up her nose, before she connected the dots and her expression cleared. ‘I don’t know whether to feel flattered by that comparison or not.’
‘Are you kidding me? Taylor Swift is hashtag-goals, as the kids say.’
‘I’m pretty sure they don’t say any such thing. I don’t think she’s fashionable any more. You’re not keeping up, Vicky.’
‘Oooh because of the whole Kim Kardashian thing, na? Oh well, I still like her music and I won’t lie about it. Reputation is the bomb.’
‘Okay, I liked some of 1989. I think she’s a better pop star than a country singer, to be honest.’
‘Who even listens to country any more? That makeover had to happen.’
Kritika gasped with outrage. ‘I listen to country.’
‘Oh, poor dear, who hurt you?’
She tried hard to repress a grin but gave up. ‘If you dis country and listen to something like EDM, I will judge you so much.’
‘Yeh lo, didn’t I just say I enjoy pop? And Bollywood music, of course.’
‘All Bollywood, or the acceptably cool old songs?’
‘All,’ Vicky said with emphasis in his trademark enthusiastic manner.
‘I think I will give you ten points for being honest and unpretentious. I would’ve given you fifteen but I docked five for the country-music slur.’
‘Ah, what have you done? You have no idea how competitive I am. I need to win whatever stupid competition these points are a part of.’
‘Good. That’s the point.’
Vicky had an answering gleam in his eyes. He suddenly looked forward to the rest of the filming schedule more than ever.
4
‘You have one job, Ranjha! One job! And this is how you repay my hospitality and faith? How could you have been so very careless as to lose one of my cows? Do you know how much she was worth? You couldn’t hope to repay me even if you spent a year working for free!’ said Chuchak.
Ranjha stood silently in the centre of the courtyard, listening to Heer’s father, the ever-present flute tucked into his waistband. He didn’t offer a single word in his defence.
‘Are you just going to stand there mutely? What were you doing that was so important that you didn’t bring the cows in on time?’
‘No doubt he was playing on that blasted flute of his, brother,’ a mocking voice said from the far end of the courtyard, where Heer’s maternal uncle Kaido sat, smoking a pipe. ‘You’re far too forgiving about these things.’
Heer’s father sighed. ‘Ranjha, you’re a good lad. But if you cannot find that cow and return it to us, I must ask you to leave—’
A distinct tinkling of bells interrupted the rest of Chuchak’s words as Heer led the missing cow into the courtyard.
‘It’s not his fault, father. Veera and I tricked Ranjha by leading Sunehri away and hiding her. We just wanted to scare this Ranjha boy a little—not cause him to lose his job.’
‘What? That’s not—’
‘Yes, I am afraid that is exactly how it happened,’ Heer said, directing a warning look at Ranjha.
Chuchak frowned. ‘What am I going to do with you, Heer? You’re far too old to be playing tricks like this. Take Sunehri to the shed for the night. Ranjha, I apologize. My daughter is playful and does not mean any harm.’
‘I understand, sir. I’ll be more vigilant from tomorrow. I thank you for your kindness.’
Crossing Heer’s path, he took hold of the chain around Sunehri’s neck, brushing his fingers over hers.
Heer dimpled up at him and backed away, disappearing into the house.
~
‘I don’t understand why they won’t just tell us! I hate being left hanging like this. They’re not actually going to give me the part, are they?’ Kriti said, picking at the lacy edge of a cushion.
She heard a slightly exasperated sigh at the other end of the line. She could imagine the expression on her manager’s face. It was one she wore frequently when Kriti expressed any anxiety about her work. Samiya Ansari was unquestionably good at her job but no one could accuse her of responding emotionally to any situation.
‘Kritika, it is not your abilities that are in question at all. If they do not offer you the role, it will not be because they think you can’t act but because Abhimanyu Neogi has a stick up his ass about “commercial cinema”. I was careful to outline the pros of having a successful “commercial” actor in his film in yesterday’s meeting. If that man has an iota of sense, he’ll send you the contract.’
The cosy interior of her vanity van, done up tastefully in old rose, cream and matte gold, did no more to soothe her agitation than Samiya’s assurances.
‘Are you sure that was the right approach to take? If he hates the idea of Bollywood so much, maybe you should’ve downplayed my public perception.’
‘He knows which side his bread is buttered. Even a pretentious self-proclaimed “indie genius” like him needs to sell tickets to stay in the business, and his last film’s collections should concern everyone involved.’
Kriti allowed herself a half-hearted chuckle. ‘You’re right, Samiya. I’m just . . . so tired.’
‘So, take a break. Go to Bali for a few days. Maybe one of those east European countries that are really big now. But frankly, at this stage of your career, you can’t afford to be tired or take too many vacations.’
‘That’s not it.’ Kriti could feel a familiar weight settle in her stomach as the futility of trying to put into words what she was feeling sunk in. ‘Yeah, maybe I’ll take a quick vacation after Ranjha Ranjha wraps up.’
‘How’s this schedule progressing, by the way? These meetings with KNP Productions and Neogi have been so unnecessarily complicated, I’ve barely been able to speak to you. I’ll be back in Hyderabad by tomorrow evening, though.’
‘Samiya, you’ve barely been away for three days. Nothing life-changing has happened on set in that period.’
‘With Sudarshana Samarth, who knows? We’ll be lucky if we can finish this schedule without any major delays. I have dates in reserve just for this, not that Sudarshana needs to know. If you’re lucky, you’ll finish according to plan and you can take a quick break during those days.’
‘Yeah. Just keep me posted on the Neogi situation, no?’
‘Obviously. You need to relax, Kriti. Neogi needs you far more than you need him.’
‘How? I need to be taken seriously as an actor and I feel it in my bones that this part will do it for me. I desperately need Abhimanyu to agree to this. But if your logic works, he could cast any damn “big name” heroine.’
‘This is really not the time to develop Impostor Syndrome. You have to believe you can do it. There are far too many people around who’re just looking for an opportunity to tear you down.’
‘It’s not Impostor Syndrome! I know I can do this. I just need Abhimanyu Neogi to believe it too!’
‘He will. He already does, in fact, or we wouldn’t have come so far in this negotiation. Have some faith in me, Kriti.’
‘Yeah . . .’ Kriti paced the confines of her vanity, trying to keep her voice even and regulate her breathing. ‘I’ll see you soon, and with some good news, hopefully.’
‘Yes, you will.’
Kriti disconnected the phone, slumping into an armchair, for once unmindful of the heavily embroidered dupatta pinned to her shoulders. A bone-deep exhaustion pulled at her limbs even as her mind ran a mile a minute, examining every possible outcome of Samiya’s meetings with Abhimanyu. The ball of lead
lodged in her stomach made its way to her chest, pressing down on her lungs until her eyes prickled with moisture and she released a ragged breath. Her job was way more stressful than the world imagined it to be. Early on in her career, she had let the pressure really get to her, albeit privately, but now she knew how crucial it was to have the right kind of support system. About a year ago, she had started seeing a therapist, who more than anything else helped her deal with the pressure. Therapy had also taught her just how important it was to keep in touch with friends like Meher. Kriti made a mental note to call her later.
She gingerly pressed her fists to her eyes one last time as a soft knock on the door of her vanity van announced the arrival of her hair-and-make-up team. The thought of the gruelling emotional sequence that would follow once she was ready almost made her stay curled up in the soft lap of her armchair. Almost. She sat up straight for a minute and then got up to unlock her door.
~
Vicky couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he was willing to bet with some certainty that Kritika was distracted. On the surface, she appeared to be following Sudarshana’s instructions to the letter, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss. Perhaps it was the tilt of her shoulders. Perhaps it was a note in her usually even voice. Perhaps it was his physical proximity to her. Of course, they were working on a particularly demanding bit of the script and it all may have been a part of Kritika’s interpretation. But somehow, Vicky didn’t think so. There was more to it.
‘Cut!’
Vicky winced mentally. Obviously, Sudarshana had her qualms too, because this was their seventeenth take for a two-line shot and they didn’t seem to be any closer to completing it than when they’d begun. At this rate, this whole scene alone would take a month.
‘Focus, Kritika! You’re not listening to me. You’re going through the motions without channelling that intensity of Heer’s feelings—her junoon. I know you can bring that through but I’m just not seeing it right now.’ Sudarshana’s open, expressive face conveyed her passion, which seemed to be tinged with impatience.
Kritika nodded, the tiniest wrinkle between her brows. ‘What would you specifically like me to do differently this time?’
Sudarshana stopped to consider for a moment, looking tall and imposing in her kurta and jeans as she walked over to Kritika and conferred on minute details of her body language, the way she was sitting, and even beckoned over Kritika’s hair stylist to fiddle with the way her hair was falling over her shoulders. She finally returned to her monitor, nodding at Arun on her way back.
As Vicky returned to his spot next to Kritika, his feeling of unease grew stronger. Instead of helping her focus, Sudarshana’s latest set of instructions seemed to have frazzled her even more. Vicky could tell that Sudarshana was going to get testy soon. He flashed Kritika the tiniest smile of reassurance before offering her his hand and angling his body away from her. Her grip was comfortingly warm and steady.
‘Okay, dim the rest of the lights again, roll sound, and . . . action!’
The chatter around set dropped instantly and Vicky became hyper-aware of Kritika’s hand holding his. It wasn’t difficult slipping into character. It wasn’t difficult imagining that walking away from Heer in that moment would break his heart. The gentle tug on his wrist made him look back at the sombre woman sitting on the wide ledge around the terrace of the house Heer lived in.
‘Aur jo apni bansuri ki dhun mein baandh kar mera dil le ja raha ho, usse main kaise yaad karoon?’
The wistful longing in her eyes made something in his gut twist sharply.
‘Bas Ranjha ke naam se, Heeriye.’
Carefully releasing the fingers holding on to his hand, he walked away, his footsteps silent on the rough-hewn stone.
‘Cut!’
This time, Sudarshana hadn’t even waited for Heer to break down in tears.
‘Come on, Kritika! Get it together! Heer is not merely sad. She’s devastated that Ranjha is leaving. The future is dark and bleak without him. He’s the man you were determined to spend the rest of your life with and he’s going away forever. You are to be married to someone else. This is the last time you’re seeing him, and it’s ripping you apart! We need to see that—feel it along with Heer. Ranjha, back in position!’
Vicky winced at Sudarshana’s tone and looked back at Kritika to see how she was taking it. Heer sat stoically on the ledge, artificial moonlight glinting in her hair, and suddenly, an epiphany struck. It wasn’t that Heer wasn’t involved enough. It was Kritika whose almond-shaped eyes were clouded with a dim, tired sadness that seeped into every movement and expression.
‘All right, roll camera again . . . action!’
And maybe they were going about this the wrong way. Maybe Kritika just needed a break.
‘Aur jo apni bansuri ki dhun mein baandh kar mera dil le ja raha ho, usse main kaise yaad karoon?’
Vicky knew he’d regret it, but he did it anyway.
‘As the Pied Piper of Hamelin, Heeriye.’
Vicky walked away as seriously as each time amid the baffled, complete silence around him.
‘CUT!’
He turned towards Sudarshana with an unapologetic grin on his face. Stray cracks of laughter and murmuring floated around him, but one choked giggle half a second after his response had particularly bolstered his smile. Through the corner of his eye he could still see Kritika alternatively coughing and snorting with laughter.
‘What in actual hell, Vicky?’
Of course, the one person who did not find this funny at all was their director. She radiated so much authoritative disappointment, Vicky felt exactly like he had in class six when he had been sent to the principal’s office for setting off a string of loud crackers in the boys’ bathroom. Come to think of it, Sudarshana had a distinct Father David vibe, and it made his grin falter just a little bit.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. This dialogue has been asking for it from the moment I read it, weeks ago.’
‘Grow up, Vicky Behl! This is one of the most emotionally impactful scenes in the entire film, and I need my leads to take it seriously. At least, Kritika is trying. We don’t have time for your juvenile jokes. Thanks to you, the mood is shot.’
Definite Father David vibe.
‘Everyone, take ten and come back ready to work! I’d like to get this scene covered today.’
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sudarshana stalked off towards the exit.
~
‘You know . . . I don’t always get Vicky’s jokes but I have to admit this one was slightly funny.’
Sudarshana exhaled on a puff of smoke, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. She held the cigarette in her right hand as she crossed her kurta-clad arms. ‘The brat! How will I shoot this scene now with everyone involved imagining a pack of rats following Ranjha as he leaves?’
‘They could also be imagining a pack of children. That’s how the story ends, doesn’t it? Creepy either way. I can see why you gave everyone a break to get the image out of their systems.’
Arun leant against the wall behind Sudarshana, tapping his own cigarette against his well-worn jeans. A grove of trees in front separated them from the next studio building and offered a semblance of privacy. He’d seen Sudarshana slip out here for a quick smoke more than once and had instinctively known where to find her.
‘To be honest, we needed a break. One silly joke isn’t enough to throw off a shot. I’d have quit after my first film if I let something like that distract me. Something’s bothering Kritika and perhaps this will help her refocus. And maybe I need to step away for a minute too.’
‘She was definitely off her game. But then, you’ve always had more faith in her than most.’
Sudarshana looked up at him in some surprise. ‘You don’t think I made the right decision to cast her as Heer?’
Arun shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. ‘I haven’t really thought about it. She’s certainly very dedicated and si
ncere. And the camera captures her beautifully.’
‘That was very diplomatic. You have thought about and no doubt have opinions on everything under the sun—not just this film that you’re working on. And there is nothing passive about the camera photographing Kritika well. You photograph her well and you know it.’
It was enough to provoke a snort.
‘You sure know how to simultaneously wound and soothe a man’s ego.’
‘I want to know why you disapprove of Kritika being cast as Heer.’
‘I don’t disapprove exactly. Especially not now. She shows flashes of potential. And given how hard she works, she’s certainly come a long way from her early work. I’m just saying you took a bit of a chance on her, which seems to be paying off—irrespective of whatever is bothering her today.’
Sudarshana carelessly flicked ash off the end of her cigarette, absorbed in thought. ‘I never thought of it that way. I know Kritika made her way to acting through modelling and believe me, I know of the stereotypes around model-turned-actors. But there’s something about her . . . I can’t quite explain it. I just knew she would be perfect as Heer the moment I was done writing the script.’
‘So much of your work is fuelled by plain intuition, and so successfully,’ Arun grumbled, ‘it’s almost annoying.’ Though he tried to mask it, his admiration showed plainly on his face. He had forgone shaving for a couple of days, and a scruffy beard made his rugged looks even more attractive to Sudarshana.
‘Like you don’t go with your gut while framing and composing and lighting?’
‘Sometimes.’ A grimace twisted one side of his mouth. ‘I’ve just had to explain and justify my creative decisions to too many people over many years to not consciously think about and reason through everything to get my way. Like the next take, where I want to tone down the glowing moonlight. I still think that’s the right way to go.’
Sudarshana stubbed her cigarette out, half groaning, half laughing into her hands.
‘What do you have against the current lighting?’
‘Nothing, if you enjoy being lit like a vengeful ghost in an ’80s haunted-haveli film.’
