Cut

by Sreemoyee Piu Kundu

  ‘Maya…will you please reconsider your decision?’

  ‘How did you get this play, Avi? I thought you hated him; that he was the reason you never took up theatre? Did you meet him behind my back? When he was really as sick as the media claims? Dying?’ I questioned urgently.

  ‘I never met Amitabh Kulasheshtra, after NCD. This manuscript was lost on the train where he breathed his last…lost in the scuffle, perhaps. Then someone turned it in at the police station where it lay unclaimed for two years. I want you to play the role of Sarla Kulasheshtra, Maya. That’s all there is to it…it is my decision as the director of this play.’

  ‘Avi, how can I essay the role of his wife? This is the trajectory…the story of Amitabh and Sarla. I was the alleged other woman, Avi…why don’t you get this? I am always going to be regarded as an outsider, no matter how Amitabh saw it or you do, now…I mean, let’s face it, Marie…what transpired between Bourdaine and Amitabh, was purely speculation, at some level…also it happened in Paris…not here, in India, in Mumbai…I was accused of wrecking his personal life, Avi…for staining his reputation as a stalwart…’ I was breathless.

  ‘Kulasheshtra never gave a shit about his reputation, Maya. I am pretty sure; it’s what he too would have wanted, had he not met his end. Just the way I am certain, like you, that he was headed to Mumbai.’

  ‘Amitabh never discussed death, Avi, you know. Maybe, it was too ordinary, too predictable for someone like him. A man who was unafraid to take the risks he ended up taking…I wish he had met me, Avi…I wish I could have told him…everything…’ my words trailed.

  ‘What, Maya? What do you wish you had said to Amitabh Kulasheshtra?’

  Avi’s voice echoed eerily in the coffee-shop.

  There was a storm predicted that day.

  SARLA KULASHRESHTA

  My students came for dance classes six days a week so I looked forward to Sundays. Relishing the time I had to myself.

  It had been a fortnight since Avi had left Pune. We had remained in touch. Avi assured me that he was going to try and get Maya onboard, the way he was also determined to get some of the old members from Amitabh’s troupe, those who had dispersed over time, to be associated with the play. Avi kept assuring me that he’d do full justice to Cut, that he would produce it himself, if he didn’t manage enough sponsors. ‘I won’t let him down, you have my word, Sarlaji…’ Avi always insisted, before disconnecting.

  I had just got off a call with him, hanging up in a hurry, as someone rang my bell insistently. The part-timer who had replaced Meena-tai, who was usually here at this time of the day, had taken a leave of absence. I didn’t want to answer the door so I took my time, settling the folds of my cotton sari with my left hand, at the same time. My hair was wet. Open.

  I pulled open the door and stared at the man outside, not believing my eyes. So long. What had taken him so long to muster the courage to meet me?

  I placed a glass of sherbet on the table. Then settling back in the wicker chair, I asked pointedly: ‘Why are you here, Rakesh?’

  Rakesh looked stumped. He had put on a lot of weight. His face was sweaty from the mugginess outside. He wore a shiny red polyester shirt, his front buttons open, two thick gold chains dangled around his stout neck. His ears were pierced with diamond studs. His complexion, a shade or two darker than I remembered. He kept wiping his face. Stone rings of different colours adorned his thick fingers. An expensive Rolex wristwatch caught my attention. He wore a brown tweed beret.

  Rakesh had everything he had once wanted.

  ‘I had to see you, Banno; I couldn’t keep away any more. I tried calling you as well. I rang on the landline, so many times. I even contemplated writing a letter…as in, I wasn’t sure if you used email…possessed a computer…laptop, I mean…’ he bit his lip, tapping the table nervously.

  I stared at the deepset lines around his eyes. A sudden tenderness rose in me. ‘And I often thought of writing to you…in the early years, especially.’

  ‘You did?’ Rakesh sounded surprised, his face lighting up.

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you would have the courage or the patience to hear me out…I wasn’t even sure if it was right to reach out…’

  ‘Right?’ Rakesh looked up.

  ‘You’re married Rakesh, and so was I. But, just as you travelled to Pune because you felt it was the right thing to do…the way you almost forced your way inside…sitting in awkward silence for all this time, making small talk…in the same way I…’

  ‘I have been holding back all these years, Banno. But then AD visited me. After he met you for the second time in Pune. He insisted he wanted me to be involved with Bhai Jaan’s Cut. He wants me to help him recreate the era…especially, the time we spent together under the shadow of Dada Saheb. I told him I was broke, because I thought he was looking at me as a producer…But what I really wanted to know was if you had sent him to me…made him call me? If I was right…in…in assuming…?’ his voice caught in his throat.

  ‘Avik met you?’

  ‘I said I needed some time to make up my mind, but, the truth was I wanted to come and meet you first; ask in person, if this is what you want; if this is what Bhai…I mean…’ Rakesh searched my face.

  ‘Amitabh…you can say his name now…he’s dead, Rakesh,’ I remarked brusquely.

  ‘Banno, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to misunderstand my involvement with all this. The reason I bribed none other than Amol Rawat to lay my hands on the manuscript…is because I wanted to do something for you to remember me by; something more…to prove to you that I meant what I said all those years ago…God knows I’ve let you down in the past…’

  My heart broke to see Rakesh like this. He looked at me earnestly: ‘You know Banno, the real reason I cast Maya in Ishq…was to get back at Amitabh…and you…this all-encompassing rage…Banno, it has consumed me since the day you agreed to Dada Saheb’s marriage proposal…it was too raw, too potent, the pain I felt…the void…the sense of betrayal and failure I have nursed all these years, despite making it so big in Bollywood…living the high life…yet, every night, Banno, I wished Amitabh dead…oh Banno, how long will we have to live this way? Fighting shadows…’ he covered his face with both hands.

  I walked across to the window. Pushing open one of the wooden panes, I took a deep breath, ‘I did it for my father, Rakesh. I married Amitabh because I felt that was the only way I could compensate Dada Saheb, for…for the ultimate sin of being a girl. He wanted a son, desperately, you know: “If only I had a boy,” he’d always lament. It hurt me. Dada Saheb’s words. The way he pronounced the word “son”. I resented Dada Saheb in those moments…the fact that he longed for someone else. I never told Dada Saheb that he hurt me, though. The times he did. The way he did. I never talked much about my disappointments, either. About how unhappy I was.

  ‘In the days leading up to my marriage, my father and I had slipped into a rehearsed silence, except, one full moon night when he sat beside me on my bed.

  “Are you happy, now?” my lips trembled. I was holding a stainless steel blade that glistened in the glow of the moon. It was after he had announced my marriage. After you had stormed off…’

  Rakesh looked up, his eyes smarting. ‘You were ready to kill yourself?'

  ‘I was particularly despondent that day. Because I remembered what you had said: “You will never be happy, Banno, till the day Amitabh Kulasheshtra is alive…mark my words, this decision is going to cost you…both!” Your words rang in my ears. This decision happened because of the way you had not looked back, when I followed you out, Rakesh,’ I wiped my eyes. ‘Anyway, Dada Saheb remained silent, for a while. Then he gently removed the blade from my grasp and said: “I was married once before, for a couple of years. I loved my first wife passionately, but she was in love with another man, Sarla. Ours was an arranged alliance. It’s…it’s why she died, committing suicide by drinking a bottle of acid. I never wanted to remarry; I had stopped believing in love or ma
rriage and despised children, until I met your mother, an aspiring actress, who gave up the stage after you were born, after a very complicated pregnancy. That’s when I understood the importance of devotion. Above love.”’

  RK came closer to me.

  ‘Dada Saheb compared me to his dead wife. He called heartbreak “slow poison”. “You want too much, like her, your eyes imminently alive, like hers, so, so different from mine. You share that same angst, my child, an ache that just doesn’t go away; your intensity would have scorched Rakesh over time.” Dada Saheb felt he understood your thirst for quick fame…your ambition to be famous; he was an astute observer of people…he was absolutely certain that we had no future. “I could not watch you destroy your life with the wrong man, nursing a bunch of fractured dreams. That’s the reason I chose Amitabh…he, he is, good for you. Trust your father. He is like my son. He will never leave you, Sarla…he will never betray your heart.” I had brought the blade closer to my wrist. Wanting to kill myself in front of Dada Saheb’s eyes. Wanting him to suffer. To pay.’

  RK froze in his tracks. ‘Banno…no…’ he gasped, placing his arms around me.

  ‘“And what if he dies like your first wife, prematurely? Or chooses to go away, leaving me behind?” I had blurted bitterly, the blade slowly slipping from my hand. Dada Saheb’s warm breath covered the nape of my neck. He was sure Amitabh would never desert me, that he would always come back to the home we would go on to build together, as husband and wife. “Amitabh will learn to love you,” he told me.’

  RK held me tight: ‘You can’t ever learn how to love someone, Banno, loving someone is not the same as cultivating a habit or memorizing a dialogue,’ he had just started speaking, when I turned to face him, touching his chest:

  ‘Dada Saheb stayed with me, that entire night. “You will make a beautiful bride and you will be loved. Amitabh will learn, such is the law of marriage, things come around in the end…as they must, as they were destined to…”’ he had whispered, as I sobbed in his arms. I asked: “Did you ever love my mother? Me? Did you ever fall out of love with your first wife? Did you choose the stage to hide your own scars?” I shuddered. Dada Saheb didn’t answer. Maybe, he was dead inside. Like I was to become.’

  RK lifted my chin up, slowly, searching for words to comfort me: ‘Banno…was my mother’s pet name, you know…she died during the Partition riots…’ he placed his cheek to mine.

  For a long while, we remained like that.

  ‘Sometimes, I wished he would die, too, Rakesh... that’s the truth…and you must know this,’ I pulled away, agitatedly.

  Rakesh moved away and took off his beret. ‘Truth?’ he sounding startled.

  ‘I was happy when the news came,’ I looked away.

  ‘How can it be possible?’ Rakesh asked.

  ‘My indifference towards my husband?’

  ‘No,’ he clarified, coming closer, touching my shoulders, for a fleeting second.

  ‘Then?’ I moved back, a few steps, ‘I thought you wished to know more about us, like the rest…everyone seems to want to know what we shared…how Kulasheshtra was, as a husband…a man of flesh and blood…how it was, living with him, in the same house, especially, after my Samna interview…after Amitabh suddenly returned from Mumbai…one night…’

  ‘I find that ironical…’ Rakesh frowned.

  ‘Amitabh’s death? The way it happened in a stuffy train compartment?’

  ‘No, Banno, what Amitabh’s death represented…the stark truth about this country. Our political conscience. Fame. The price we all must pay... for the person we were thought to be... larger than life...’ Rakesh murmured, staring at the garden outside.

  ‘Saint…’ our wrists brushed each other’s, briefly.

  Rakesh followed me back to the couch, after a while.

  ‘I, I didn’t mean for this to get awkward in any way, Banno... us, meeting, this way, again. Dissecting Amitabh’s death, bringing up the past...’

  We sat beside each other on the same sofa.

  ‘Actually, I’ve done it almost every day since Amitabh went away,’ I confessed, turning to face him.

  ‘To Mumbai, first, you mean? To Maya?’

  ‘Our Maya was dead, Rakesh. She died in Amitabh’s arms. We could do nothing to save her…she suffered from a rare congenital heart problem…it’s what the doctors said.’

  ‘And, is that why you hated Bhai Jaan so deeply, Banno? Because he wasn’t there for you when you needed him the most…when your child was ailing…because he wasn’t ever a good husband in the ways wives are conditioned to expect and…how he never loved you back, as a woman?’ Rakesh’s lips quivered.

  ‘It’s okay, I told myself,’ I rested my head on his shoulders.

  ‘When?’ Rakesh stiffened, at once.

  ‘When the call first came. I felt we were equals, in a sense.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because, Amitabh was to never have the thing he loved the most,’ a tear rolled out of my eye.

  ‘Maya? His Maya? Maya Shirale?’

  ‘They told me Amitabh couldn’t even recall his own name when he was being asked for his identity on that train... he, he had lost his memory... most of it, by then...all the recollections of who he was or where he may have been headed...’ I moved closer.

  Rakesh gently removed a strand of hair from my eyes.

  ‘Memory, Rakesh. That intangible construct between man and a woman, people like us. Brought together by circumstance ... but fated to love someone else... memory is all Amitabh had. It’s all I lived with, too. The times...all the years we spent under one roof...the fights, the fall-outs, the success, the silences, the awards, the aloneness... the lies... the lovers...the bed we slept on, in different directions – his legs facing me. I’d touch them lightly, some days. Never waking Amitabh...not making too much noise, either. It was my place, I suppose. It’s the way my marriage was designed…fated, perhaps, from the start,’ I pressed my face into Rakesh’s shoulder.

  ‘You know, Banno, I never looked at you both that way…as man and a woman…maybe, I was in denial too…’ Rakesh paused abruptly, covering my hands with his. ‘And, if I may ask, is that why you took it upon yourself to have this play staged? Amitabh Kulasheshtra’s last wish...his swan song...?’

  ‘I am no victim, Rakesh. I owe this to myself, equally. Or, maybe, I am not afraid to own the power I have always possessed…anymore,’ I lifted my head.

  Rakesh raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I don’t understand. How can a play based on a man like your husband – an icon, a legend – be about you, Banno?’

  ‘Just the way I slept for all those years, lying opposite Amitabh. Never looking into his eyes, directly, making my station in the shadows, and, yet knowing his every move...the times he’d get up to visit the toilet, around midnight. Or when he’d stir. In the throes of a nightmare... screaming her name,’ I answered, stiffly, rising up.

  Rakesh rose up, wiping his face.

  ‘Will you come when the play opens, Banno? AD wants the first show to be staged here, in, Pune…’ he searched my eyes.

  ‘It depends on how I feel on the day. I am not getting any younger,’ I shrugged my shoulders, almost dismissing his request.

  ‘I…I need you, Sarlu…’ Rakesh grasped my hands and placed them near his chest.

  ‘Sarlu?’

  ‘I apologize, I must have got carried away,’ Rakesh looked down, embarrassed.

  ‘No one has called me by that name since Amitabh went away,’ I said slowly.

  ‘Everyone will be happy if you can come…I mean…’ Rakesh leaned in, pressing his fingers over mine.

  ‘It’s exactly what Amitabh said to me, every time a play of his opened, he’d say it in exactly the same way…never using the word "wait"…’

  ‘Would it have made a difference, if he had said he would wait for you? Would you attend any of his plays, then?’ Rakesh questioned, a slight tremor in his voice.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe,
it was my place...’ I mused.

  ‘That can change, Banno! You are the reason behind Cut,’ Rakesh slipped his fingers inside mine.

  ‘Behind, yes, but, never in front, Rakesh. It was the way Amitabh would have also wanted. That was his place and he selfishly guarded that spot. Anyway, Rakesh, it’s pretty late, and, I suspect it may rain…and…I must rest a while,’ I remarked, gently cupping his face.

  The phone rang just then.

  I answered the phone and then turned to RK: ‘That was Avik. Maya has agreed. She will play me in Cut,’ I turned to convey the good news to Rakesh.

  He nodded and pressed his hands over mine, ‘I’m happy for you, Banno. This is the moment you have dreamt of…’

  I was about to say something, when Rakesh looked into my eyes, ‘It’s time for you to take your place on the stage, this time, Banno. For Bhai Jaan. For Dada Saheb…For yourself…I will think of you…imagine you the way we had first met…although I cannot attend the opening of Cut. My trial is coming up, actually it happens to be on the very same day…’

  I frowned.

  ‘I will be implicated, this time, in all probability…I’ve been running from the law, forever, I feel, sometimes. For as long as I can remember…bribes, black money, Dubai dons, drugs, mistresses, casting couch…I have seen it all…finally, I have exhausted all my alibis…my lawyers say I should be prepared for the worst…’

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Are you scared?’ I asked, softly, after a few seconds.

  Rakesh shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I have tried my best with Cut. Pulled all strings to get this manuscript to you…to help AD find sponsors, Banno…I had to…it was my…’ he took a deep breath.

  ‘Is that why you didn’t want your name anywhere? Did you get involved just to be close to me?’ I questioned him directly.

  He stared at me in silence, for a while.

  ‘I did it for Bhai Jaan, Banno…though, you know as well as I do, that I would do anything to meet you once…be close, this way…’ Rakesh sighed, his breath falling on my face, ‘I have always blamed myself, somewhere, that because of me…you hated Amitabh…because of the way I left, wanting to punish you, by never looking back…maybe, if I had not been there in your life…you would have loved him more spontaneously. The way you do now.’