Opening Night

by Diksha Basu

  The ear-pieced man looked up again. ‘Ah, yes. Jay is on the list plus one. Are you that plus one? There is no name.’

  ‘Yes. He was supposed to meet me here but got delayed; so I’m here,’ I justified.

  The man looked at me arrogantly, called to someone on his little ear piece and turned away while I continued standing at the entrance with my face on fire with embarrassment. Rajeev’s date whined to him, ‘Uff, K baby. Why do we have to wait? Don’t the media people have a different entrance?’

  The man with the ear piece finally turned back looking disappointed and lifted the red rope to let me in before cooing at Rajeev and the girl behind me.

  I walked in to more cameras that also stubbornly refused to flash at me; more tight dresses and mile-high heels; more men with make-up; more flashing lights; and, thank god, at long last, the bar. I perched myself up near the alcohol, demanded a double vodka tonic with lime, took a large gulp and finally sighed with relief.

  I had found the perfect spot to sit and stare at everyone at the party. I saw Tarun Jaisingh in the distance, surrounded by cameras and pretty girls in tight dresses. I chugged my drink in order to feel less foolish about my outfit. I really wanted to be introduced to Tarun that night, but felt terribly frumpily dressed. I thought the gloss and the glamour of Bollywood were all created specifically for the screen, but there, that night, I realized that it was a 24/7 job. Professional hair and make-up were an everyday affair.

  Rajeev and his arm candy for the night were giggling in front of photographers and discreetly trying to stand in front of each other. I saw Rajeev remove his jacket and flex for the cameras. The producer/director Nikhil Chawla was there, accompanied by a woman whose appearance would suggest she was his daughter but behaviour suggested she was his lover. Nobody troubled me and I troubled nobody. Ex-model turned gossip guru Neha Sinha was there in a white chiffon sari, dripping diamonds and looking striking. Musician/reality TV star Saurav NoLastName was there, looking uncomfortably hot in a velvet jacket but managing to smile through the sweat whenever a camera came close.

  Suddenly, to my right, ordering white wine spritzers at the bar, were two little dolls. They were both about five feet tall, one was wearing a black layered flapper dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She was a bit masculine looking but still quite beautiful. The other one was wearing a red, fitted knee-length dress with a belt clipping in her tiny little waist. She looked unnervingly like me. Not like me exactly but, I am scared to admit, we shared a certain essence. Like she could be the dumb, vacant, made-up version of me. Perhaps I was slightly jealous. The duo was teetering on five-inch stilettos and had perfectly straightened hair. They had the similarity of best friends, as opposed to sisters, and were oddly captivating. The girls looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite place where I knew them from. They ignored me while they waited for their spritzers. The one in the black dress said, ‘I don’t think he’s come yet. Stop freaking.’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m just nervous. Is my hair okay?’ asked the pretty little red dress.

  ‘Yes. It’s fine. Look at Nikhil’s new girl. I don’t know what he sees in her.’

  ‘I don’t either. He’ll realize he’s made a mistake soon enough. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I know, I know. Where’s Jay? I thought he’d be here by now.’

  ‘He said something about having dinner. I’m guessing he’ll come after that.’

  ‘Is that Tarun Jaisingh? Come, na, I need to chat him up a bit,’ the little black dress said as she began walking away.

  ‘Sonal, wait, give me lip gloss first.’

  Ah. Seher and Sonal. That’s who they were. The one in the red dress was Seher and Sonal was in the black. They were the best friends, actors/models notorious for their bad acting skills and love of old men. They were always in the papers but they didn’t really seem to do much. Seher was usually in the press for having been robbed or harassed or some such, and Sonal insisted she almost died in the tsunami. Although Ritesh claimed he saw her doing shots at a party in Goa when the tsunami hit.

  I was tempted to follow the two and continue eavesdropping but the only thing more awkward than sitting alone at the bar was suspiciously following Seher and Sonal. Why would Seher know where Jay was? Well, she didn’t know where Jay was but she obviously felt entitled to know.

  I stayed put at the bar, downed the first drink, ordered another, and started to feel a bit better about being utterly alone and underdressed. I was starving, but apparently Bollywood had also stopped consuming carbs. Nobody was acknowledging me, everyone seemed to know each other intimately and was far too concerned with the cameras to bother about me. I felt silly and childish perched up on my little bar stool, straw in mouth, swivelling the seat and staring at people. Did they really know each other, though? They were all patting each other on the back and hugging, but were facing the cameras while chatting. How does it work when two famous people meet? Or when a non-famous person (i.e., me) is introduced to someone she obviously recognizes from the press – were you supposed to admit that? Or were you supposed to play it cool? What if the person you were recognizing was someone you were embarrassed to be recognizing – like Shaheen Chopra or Amrit Patel? What then? I was utterly confused by this strange fraternity of people, and when the sea of recognizable faces parted, there was Jay. He looked devilishly handsome, loosened tie and casual black blazer. He smiled graciously at a few photographers, hugged a few members of the fraternity, met my gaze, held it and made his way over to me. The movie version of this scene played in my head while he came straight to me, gave me a hug and ordered himself a large gin on the rocks.

  ‘So sorry I got late. I’m so happy you came, ya. The cameras, the flashes, the people, it all makes me tense-tense. It’s such garbage.’ He smiled, I did too, and all was forgiven.

  So he was a bit late, but he really needed me here.

  ‘Don’t be silly. This is your night,’ I whispered back proudly.

  He smiled and said, ‘God, you look amazing. I love that you don’t waste hours putting on make-up. You look better than everyone here.’ With that, he squeezed my knee and turned to the cameras.

  A pretty-looking journalist smiled at him and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of possessiveness. She was too pretty. He saw it too. Must he be such a charmer? As she nodded to her cameraman to start rolling, Jay said, ‘You’re far too beautiful to be asking the questions, young lady.’

  She smiled. Didn’t giggle. How do you not giggle in the face of such charm?

  ‘Thanks, Jay. It’s nice to see you here tonight. How do you feel about the collection?’

  ‘I think Sayali’s brilliant. This line is exceptional. You should model for her.’

  I wasn’t too sure what he was talking about because I hadn’t seen any clothes on display. Besides, the journalist could not model … she was barely over five feet tall. If he was going to be helping anyone, it better have been me.

  ‘She calls you one of her muses. Are you going to come out of retirement and model for her?’

  ‘I’m thinking about it. I really am. It’s just such a compliment. I feel so fortunate for everything. I feel that nights like tonight make my painful childhood all worth it. I might model these clothes to inspire people to survive.’

  ‘I’m sorry. What are you talking about?’ the journalist asked.

  ‘Well, a part of the proceeds goes towards poverty … towards a charity for children … education … education for children … and I want those children to know that they can do it.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Dream. They too can dream. Just like I did, and look where I am now. And where I came from.’

  ‘Where you came from? Didn’t you come from Malabar Hill?’

  ‘Right. So, I’m so proud of Sayali. You have a wonderful evening, darling. Cheers.’

  Jay quickly moved on to the next camera and the pretty journalist caught me listening, smiled, shook her head, rolled her eyes, and went off to chase t
he next celebrity.

  I saw Seher and Sonal come over to Jay and flank him just as the cameras started clicking. I should have done that – staked my claim. No point sitting there and whining when I wasn’t taking any initiative. I saw him lean over to Seher and whisper into her ear. She looked up at him and fake pouted. Jay pinched her cheek and I continued to sit on the stool, seething like an idiot. Seher flirtatiously hooked her pointer finger through the buttonhole of his blazer and led him away from the cameras. Sonal followed quietly behind and the three walked over to the entrance, where Sameer Bhatia was just walking in. My heart stopped. Hugs were shared all around and Jay, Sameer, Seher and Sonal stood around, chatting like old friends. Sonal slipped away from the circle of love and Seher stood between Jay and Sameer, looking like Jay’s lover and Sameer’s muse, and I felt hollow and dreadful. I refused to be defeated so easily. This was madness. I didn’t quite have the courage to hook my finger through Jay’s buttonhole but I was going to walk over and make my presence felt.

  I shakily got up from my bar stool and began to make my way towards Jay and Sameer. Jay saw me, excused himself from Sameer and Seher, and quickly came towards me. I said, ‘Isn’t that Sameer? Can I finally meet him?’

  ‘Yes! Yes, yes, yes! I told you I’d introduce him to you. Can I get another gin quickly? Come with …’

  I had no option but to follow him. Jay stayed put at the bar and sipped his gin and finally waved Sameer over after Seher had traipsed away from him. I wiped clean the inside corners of my eyes, pushed my hair back, stood up, straightened my shirt and smiled my brightest smile.

  ‘That Seher is something else,’ Sameer said to Jay, laughing.

  ‘She’s mad. Come, come, Sameer-ji. Drink leejeye.’

  Sameer ordered a large scotch on the rocks while I continued to stand there, waiting for my introduction. Jay finally said, ‘Sameer, you must meet Naiya. I had mentioned her to you. She’s from New York. Actress. I have been telling her she should audition for you.’

  Sameer, who seemed as gay as the day was long, looked at me, smiled lovingly and said, ‘Naiya, hello darling. So nice to meet you. Welcome to Bombay. How are you liking this city?’

  I liked Sameer immediately. He was smiling genuinely and waited for me to respond. He was about fifty years old and looked like a kindly economics professor. His face was open and welcoming and, seeing him, my Red Carpet dreams came flooding back in full force.

  ‘I really like Bombay. I think I’m here permanently now,’ I said.

  ‘Good good, Naiya. India’s changing. It’s a good time to be here.’ Even his voice was booming and welcoming, and that made me feel safe and protected.

  ‘I think so too. Mr Bhatia, I have to tell you – it is such a pleasure to meet you. I’m a huge fan. And Jay’s been telling me so much about you.’

  ‘Darling, it is my pleasure entirely. Meeting beautiful young women is always a delight. You must come by the office.’

  ‘I would love to, Mr Bhatia. Any day that suits you. You just let me know.’

  ‘First, you start calling me Sameer, okay? And yes, I will take your details from Jay and get in touch. You can treat the office like your home.’

  I didn’t want to treat his office like my home. I wanted to audition and sign contracts and change my life there, but for now, I smiled and thanked him for his generous home-away-from-home offer.

  ‘Jay, good seeing you, but I will not see you again until you have read the script. This is getting too much. Chalo, I must go and find Sayali now. Nice party she has thrown,’ Sameer said.

  ‘Sameer-ji, for you I will read the script tonight only. Is Sayali here?’ Jay asked.

  ‘I will find out,’ said Sameer. ‘See you soon, Naiya. Don’t spend too much time with Jay. You also will go mad.’

  I was thrilled. I didn’t care about Seher and her tiny little waist and her finger through Jay’s buttonhole. I cared but ignored the throwaway comment that Jay had not yet read the script that he had been insisting was perfect for me. All I cared about was Sameer Bhatia’s new movie. I turned to Jay, beaming, and said, ‘You. Are my hero. Jay, thank you SO much. I’ll have to find a way to pay you back.’

  Jay smiled naughtily and said, ‘I think we can figure out a way for you to do that. Let’s get out of here.’

  I didn’t want to leave yet. I wanted to meet more people but I knew that I had to agree to leave with Jay. He had orchestrated this entire meeting and that night, whether or not I wanted to, I owed him.

  ‘Let me just finish my drink,’ I said. Just then, the tall couple who had walked into the party in front of me came over to Jay and me at the bar. I was tersely introduced to ‘Matthew and his wife, old friends of mine’ by Jay. The wife was not given a name, but I vaguely remembered her face from somewhere. But with the headiness of the evening, combined with the gin and tonic, I couldn’t place or care less who she was.

  When Matthew and his wife moved along, Jay quickly scanned the room, saw Seher and Sonal cosying up to Tarun Jaisingh at the opposite end and said, ‘Let’s go. I want you to myself.’

  Rajeev Singh and his date were also going towards the exit as we were getting out. As the theme of the night demanded, Rajeev and Jay were photo-friends and they back-slapped each other for one final frenzy of photographers. Jay and I were walking towards his car when Rajeev’s girl said to me, ‘Looks like getting out was a lot easier for you than getting in.’

  To: NaiyaKnows@gmail.com

  From: NalSharma84@gmail.com

  Naiya,

  It’s a bit slow on the audition front these days. I decided not to go back for the final rounds of the Baltimore audition. I don’t think James and I would survive that. I wish you were here so we could hang out and kill time together. Walking around Soho all alone just isn’t the same. But I have been working out like a fiend and I finally wore your halter the other night. That’s the one good thing that came out of your leaving! I’m actually considering investing in a pair of Laboutins. Can you imagine? I got a decent cheque from the McDonalds ad that I did and I’ve always craved those red-soled shoes.

  Things aren’t all that great with James. Sometimes I feel like it’s just so boring. And, while I completely chose to back out of the Baltimore play, I know I wouldn’t have done that if I was single. I don’t want to resent him for holding me back, but I just can’t help but look at you doing so much and I feel so stuck.

  Love,

  Nal

  To: NalSharma84@gmail.com

  From: NaiyaKnows@gmail.com

  Nal,

  I’ve been dreadful about staying in touch, haven’t I? But, that is such good news about the halter. I’m so glad you finally managed to fit into it. Louboutins (but please, for the love of Karl Lagerfeld, spell it right!) sound like a great idea!

  I definitely need to plan a trip back to NYC soon. And you come visit. Bring James. It might put an extra spark into your lives.

  Meanwhile, don’t beat yourself up about the Baltimore show. Like you yourself said, it’s the worst city in the world, so really it’s all a blessing in disguise.

  I’ll email more later. I have just so much going on here. I met Sameer Bhatia and he’s considering me for the lead for his next film.

  I promise, promise, promise to fill you in on more.

  Naiya

  Naiya Kapur is off for a weekend in the Hamptons of Bombay. on Friday x

  I didn’t hear from Jay for six days after the party. Which meant, more importantly, that I couldn’t get my hands on Sameer for those six days. I tried not to read too much into Jay’s disappearance until I saw a picture on Wednesday’s Page 3 of Jay and Seher at a music launch for some B-grade film called Pyaar Ki Maut. I wanted to believe that they both happened to be there and happened to be photographed together, but something about the picture suggested they had come together. But seeing what I had of Seher, she had probably masterminded that. I really did have to learn from her. Forget the fact that she was with Jay – she was on Page 3
and that was just the kind of publicity I needed to start getting. I sent Jay a casual text on Wednesday afternoon saying,

  Can you send me Sameer’s cell no?

  To this he replied,

  will do

  And then he never did. I felt like I had been kicked out of the driver’s seat of my life again. I was mulling over all this and my next course of action when Jay called. He didn’t mention Sameer and said instead, ‘Alibaug tomorrow morning. What do you say? Just for two nights. It’ll be a nice break. I want you to meet some of my friends.’

  Obviously, I accepted. It wasn’t as if my work schedule was out of control and I reasoned that a weekend with Jay would help me understand him a little more. And, worst-case scenario, I could probably manage to steal Sameer’s phone number from Jay’s phone while he was sleeping. Besides, a weekend of fun with pretty people would help lift my mood and maybe they would be influential people who would help me get work.

  By the time we started off for Alibaug, it was well past noon. We were driving about three hours out of Bombay and, I have to admit, I was nervous. I got the feeling that I was going to be the least accomplished one there. Well, it depends on your definition of accomplished, but I would definitely be the least ‘celebrity-ish’. I knew it was going to be a weekend of getting sized up by all of Jay’s friends and probably being judged not trendy enough. And, as much as I pretended not to care, I did. They intimidated me, all these beautiful people. I wondered if you were born to fit into that charmed circle or it was something you could attain. Like nirvana.