Chapter 3
I heaved a sigh with slumped shoulders as I thanked the driver before paying the bill. Stepping off the black Maruti Suzuki taxi, I raised my head towards the cluster of high-rise buildings before me. Prakriti Towers; a decent complex consisting of five buildings. Each building had ten floors; a surprise to me but a general norm in this city. All five had huddled together, surrounded by lush green trees that now faded into a darker shade under the night sky.
No wonder the builders had named this complex ‘Prakriti’.
Smiling to myself and at my new home, I pushed my satchel over my shoulder, slipping my phone inside. After greeting the watchman, I entered the first of four elevators of Tower B and pushed the button for my floor. Suddenly feeling parched, I ransacked my bag for my abandoned water bottle, gulping down the last few drops.
A beep echoed within the four sleek metallic walls of the elevator, indicating my stop. With bated breaths, I walked over to my apartment that read ‘Singh’ and pressed the doorbell.
A second passed, and then another. After thirty seconds of patiently waiting, my eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. Taking the maroon satchel in my hands, I looked for the spare key Ma had given to me this morning, the frown on my face growing by the second.
Inserting the key in its hole, I waited for it to click, before swinging the gate open, ready to call out to my mother. She should have been home by now. She would’ve informed me had she gone out.
Only no words came out, just the shrill of broken glass.
I gasped at the sight that welcomed me. The cushions on the sofa had scattered haphazardly, the one-seater angled from its correct position. Our sky blue curtains had been drawn, flailing about frivolously by the cool Mumbai wind. Something shattered a bit more under my unconscious step as I looked down. Glass had been shattered to shreds, oozing out an amber liquid I recognized too well.
I didn’t need to look to my left towards the dining table; the nervous tapping of fingers against the wooden furniture said it all.
“Welcome home, Dad.” I lifted my gaze to find an old man grimacing.
He looked wrecked, as if he hadn’t showered in days. His checkered shirt had faded, his jeans ripped from the ends. And yet his tall built remained the way it had in pictures dated twenty years ago. His hair had greyed, his stubble had grown, his glasses drooped on the bridge of his nose. And yet the wrinkles on his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes told a different story.
He hadn’t aged. Life had just made him helpless.
My father finally met my gaze. Where I had hoped to see pride and happiness, I was welcomed with grief and disappointment.
“You’re late.” His deep baritone voice grumbled through the empty living room.
“I was caught up with work. Where’s mom?” I sighed defeatedly, dropping my satchel on the sofa.
“You said you would be home by 8 PM. It’s past 10.” He continued.
“I wasn’t off partying. I got the job, I was on set.” I whispered, hoping he would take notice of my new achievement. A new step in life. A new step towards fulfilling our dreams.
“How much are they paying you?” He inquired instead.
I scoffed a little, reprimanding myself for expecting too much. “Enough to sustain you and your needs, Dad.”
A glimmer of regret flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a look of indifference.
“Where’s mom?” I repeated my question, looking over to the empty kitchen.
“Inside. She and I can never be in the same room together, you should know that by now.”
I looked away, “You didn’t try to talk either, did you?”
He flinched but responded nevertheless, “It never works.”
“You never try.” I murmur, loud enough for him to hear.
A moment of silence prevailed before he cleared his throat and stood up, walking towards the door. “I think I’ll go now.”
“What, so you only came here to collect your stash?” I charged. He stood quiet. Still masking indifference.
I wasn’t ready to relent. So I provoked him further. “You only came here to take bottles of alcohol, intoxicate yourself, and smash it to the floor? Is that it? That’s the only reason you barge into our lives everyday?”
“Yes!” He hollered, towering over me. I raised my head to meet his glare, fury burning within me.
“That’s all I care about. And that’s all I ever will. The sooner you realize it, the better for you, Mallika.” He spat, hatred spewing out of his mouth.
“I need you. You’re my father. You’re family, Dad.” I whispered, fear clutching my heart yet again.
He spoke succinctly, “I need to go back to them. They need me.”
“Why just her, Dad? Don’t I deserve some of your time too?” I questioned, looking over my shoulder as he grabbed the door handle.
Silence. That’s all I received whenever I brought up this topic.
“Say ‘Hi’ to her from my side, please. Tell her I miss our father.” My voice cracked as he slammed the door and walked out of our lives.
Once again.
------
Swirling the bowl in my hands, I took another spoon of my favorite butterscotch ice cream, a distant smile on my face. Not long after he left, the remaining tears on my face dried and I somehow picked myself up. I wasn’t ready to face my mother just yet, too exhausted both physically and emotionally to have another confrontation.
I gazed at nowhere in particular, admiring the serenity amidst the bustling echoes of cars and people. From the eighth floor I could feel the perfect strokes of wind brush past me, providing me the solace I needed. As I swayed slowly in the hammock, the bowl of ice cream slowly melting into liquid, my eyelids grew heavy and started to droop.
This balcony had officially become my favorite spot.
No longer than twenty minutes had passed before my phone buzzed, jerking me awake. Placing the near empty bowl aside, I got out of my comfort zone, groaning a little as I made my way to the living room where my satchel lay forgotten. I flashed a quick glance towards the antique roman clock on the opposite wall to find five minutes left for this day to end.
After about twenty seconds of rummaging through my bag, I finally relocated my phone. There was a message from my director, as well as a group chat invitation for the entire cast. I quickly accepted the invitation and read his message.
‘Mallika, I’ve arranged for transport as we had discussed before signing the contract. I hope you don’t mind commuting with Sumedh - I figured you both come from the same side of the city so you could carpool.’
Oh God. As if tolerating him on set wasn’t enough, I would now have to see his face every morning too?!
‘Thank you, Sir. Of course, I don’t mind. Please let me know what the schedule is like.’ I messaged.
His reply was instant, ‘The car will be there 7:30 AM every morning. And this might work for the better actually. Each day, you’ll find your scripts in the glove box. So you both can use the hour-long ride to rehearse.’
Well, the sleep deprivation is about to get much worse.
‘Sure, Sir. Thank you once again. Good night.’
‘Good night, Mallika. See you tomorrow.’ He signed off as I sighed, my phone screen changing to the alarm page as I set one for 5:30 AM.
Before I could walk back to my room, another buzz resonated through my phone. This time from an unknown number.
‘I know you’re mentally groaning about this as much as I am. Let’s just keep this strictly professional and I think we’ll at least be able to stand each other.’
‘I was about to ask who this was, but your ‘professionalism’ gave you away, Sumedh. Just FYI, I read the message Anirudh Sir sent.’ I rolled my eyes as I pressed ‘send’.
‘Well, consider this a reminder. Just FYI, I don’t wait for anyone. So you better not be late like today.’
Would he ever stop with those taunts?
‘Make sure you’re on time tomorrow, Mudgalkar. ‘Cause I will be.’
‘Oh we’ll see. ‘Night, Singh.’
Cursing at my phone, I plopped myself on my bed, ready for sleep to take over.
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I dashed out the door, a coffee flask in one hand while the satchel perched up on my shoulder. Running past everyone down the stairs, I hurried past the building to the main road. Lifting my left wrist, I checked the time.
7:28 AM.
Grinning to myself, I puffed a huge breath, feeling the victory course through me. I admit, I had the tendency to get late sometimes, but I knew the value of punctuality, and I wanted to prove to him that I did.
Sure, I skipped breakfast this morning because I couldn’t skip on sleep. Sure, I dressed myself in the first thing I saw in my cupboard - a navy blue hoodie and grey joggers, my hair still damp from the rushed shower. Sure, I was sleep deprived and high on caffeine; a combination my brain understood a little too well. But I was ready. On time. And that’s all that mattered.
While I waited for the black sedan car to arrive, my thoughts drifted back to this morning. Ma and I had quite a few pending talks; on my first day of shoot, and the turn of events last night. I realized it, and from the looks of it, she knew it all too well. When she handed me my lunch, I assured her we would talk tonight, no matter what. Told her that everything was fine, everyone was happy. That we would figure all of this out.
Things would get better, they always do. Right?
I tapped my converse clad foot against the concrete road, focusing on a car that matched the number plate Arihant Sir had messaged me this morning. Within the next minute or so, a similar looking car approached, spreading relief through me.
Only the relief was short-lived, for the next thing that caught my gaze were a pair of hazel green orbs looking out the backseat window. My breath hitched as the nervousness returned. Despite everything I felt in the last twenty-four hours, in that moment, all I wanted for a silent and peaceful ride to our set.
The car skidded to a smooth stop as I walked around it and stepped inside. Instantly, a waft of his mint-scented cologne flooded through my nose, almost throwing me off balance. I shut the door as his voice sparkled with a smirk, “I’m quite impressed, Singh.”
“And a good morning to you too.” I faked a smile at him before looking over to my window, taking in another sip of freshly brewed coffee.
“Here’s your script.” He interrupted my chain of thoughts, passing me a bundle of papers.
“Thanks.” I murmur, not missing the reddened knuckles and puffy eyes before he turned away.
“What happened to your hand?” I asked, curiosity getting the best out of me.
He gritted through his teeth before sliding his hand underneath the sleeve of his black hoodie, “None of your concern.”
“You look bruised.” I confirmed as he staked a glare towards me.
“It’s nothing.” He grunted before looking away.
I knew he was hiding something, I knew the facade too well. He was hiding pain.
“Are you okay?” I asked once again, trying to get him to face me once again.
“What part of ‘stop bothering me’ do you not understand?”
“The part where your words contradict your eyes.” I whispered, almost inaudible to myself.
Because as soon as his fury filled gaze met mine, it was as if an ocean of emotions engulfed me. Between the hazel green waves of his orbs, I spotted emotions he had so artfully hid behind his anger. Despair, loneliness, pain. The feelings were so intense that I forgot to breathe. Forgot to speak. Forgot to move. All I wanted to do was take his pain away. Make things right once again.
He stiffened but his eyes had softened, even if it was for a flicker of a second.
“Stay away from my personal life.” He began.
“Just professional, right?” I completed, locking eyes with him. His lips quivered before straightening in a thin line.
“Right. So stop with the ‘getting to know me’ mission you’re on.”
I scoffed at his retort, “It’s not a mission. It’s called having a conversation.”
“Yeah, well can’t you see I’m not interested.” He spat back.
I rolled my eyes before lashing out, “Is that what you always do? Block people out?”
“You and I can never bond.” He muttered as he looked out the window.
Clenching and unclenching my hands, I blurted in exasperation, “You haven’t even tried?!”
“I don’t need to. I know people like you.” He continued to stare into the oblivion, ruffling his fingers through his curly hair every so often.
“You know, for a second I thought maybe, just maybe we’d be able to get along as acquaintances at least. But you’re such a fixed minded judgemental person, that’s it's so difficult to have a decent conversation with you.”
“So don’t!” He lashed back, his arms flailing about, startling me a little.
“Don’t think you can set things right. Because you can’t. Not everyone has a perfect little life like yours, so don’t try to interfere. It’s nothing but annoying.” He barked, his tone deeper than ever before.
I gulped before taking my lower lip in between my teeth, trying to calm the anger coursing through my veins. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this edgy, never this short-tempered.
“It’s all about perception, okay? Everyone is perfect, you just have to see it that way.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re living in an illusion. A bubble.” He snapped.
That was the last straw. “At least I’m living.”
My words stung, I could tell with the way he flinched ever so subtly.
“Just go to hell!”
“I’d go anywhere if it meant away from you!” I hollered, thrashing the script on his face.
Great.
----------
Decent.
That word perfectly suited the first half of my second day at shoot. Most of it had to do with the fact that I didn’t have to interact with him. After our unpleasant car ride, I refused to let myself drown in melancholy. I refused to let him or his words affect me.
To hell with him. It was official now, if there had been doubts in the first place. I despised him.
So I made sure his thoughts did not bombard my mind. And it worked, to a decent extent. I became friends with my on-screen ones, finally settling into the world of showbiz. We filmed an introduction scene for ‘Radha’ - a mixture of jolly soundtracks and chirpy dance moves. The caffeine had led my insides to a surge of adrenaline, bursting with energy. And that’s exactly what I did. I danced with my heart, thoroughly enjoying myself.
It was challenging, but it was where I belonged.
I just wished I had spent a minute to skim over the script on my way over this morning. At least I would’ve been able to mentally prepare myself for what was coming ahead.
“Radha, ready?”
Holding an earthen pot in my hand, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before reopening them to a pair of light brown orbs, covering his natural green ones. The ones I so wanted to punch.
“Lights, Camera, Action!”
We delivered the dialogues effortlessly, as if the tension between us was nonexistent. It wasn’t all too difficult, since we were carrying out a playful banter on-screen. Too bad our characters didn’t share the same level of hatred we did.
But things were fine, running smoothly. Well they were, until the director gave us a brief of our next scene. The scene that supposedly preceded the one we had just shot. It was an important one. Because it was where his sixteen year-long wait had finally come to an end. Her Krishn had finally set foot in Barsana, eager and nervous to see his Radha.
The scene sounded magical when the director explained it. And once we started filming, it was as if time froze, only literally. The lighting dimmed; only a spotlight hovering over him and me. Everyone had halted their movements, the only sound hitting my ears was my erratic heartbeat. That was, until a soft tune replaced it. Soft as silk, gentle as a feather. The lyrics floated in my head, leaving me enchanted. It was as if listening to Arijit Singh, the words and melody emanating a deep sense of peace within me.
And then he approached. I could feel it through my pale yellow veil as goosebumps reappeared on the back of my neck. I could hear in an extra set of erratic breathing. I could see in the way a figure neared, clad in vibrant yellow. In that moment, I was so thankful I was instructed to look past him, towards nothing in particular. His gaze on me was too intense, I didn’t know what I’d do if I looked at him directly.
And then his hand brushed past my ear, pushing back a strand of hair. I nearly reacted, nearly came undone right there and then. A thousand butterflies erupted in the pit of my stomach as his cool hand slithered across my earlobe. I tightened my grip on the earthen pot, constantly asking myself to focus. To recompose myself. This wasn’t real. It could never be.
As soon as I thought I had regained control over myself, his hand feathered over my skin yet again, leaving the strand of hair loose. From the corner of my eye, I watched him smile longingly. It was too much. The intensity, the proximity, the feelings.
Never in a thousand years had I imagined what it would be like to shift my gaze towards him. The pot in my hand lay forgotten, my veil still flying from the fan placed closeby. But nothing mattered. Not the director’s instructions. Not the mental reprimands. All that mattered was the intensity evident in his gaze. I gulped as I delved deeper. He had taken a step towards me, our faces just inches apart. His cool breath fanned my face as I felt my cheeks redden.
Mesmerizing. Mesmerizingly expressive.
How could someone’s eyes be so transparent, so full of emotion. His glistened under the spotlight, reflecting a spectrum of emotions, all at once. The rims of his eyes reddened; in fear or happiness, I couldn’t tell. But it was so captivating that I found myself lost in them. So enchanting that I felt my lips curve from the corners. So painfully beautiful that a lone tear trickled down my right eye.
He seemed to have noticed, but refused to step away. Instead he reached forward and lightly tugged on my hand. I responded to the touch, a shiver running down my spine. His delightfully cool fingers brushed along my uncannily warm palm, a slow tickle reaching my veins. And then he intertwined his fingers with mine, his orbs still fixated on mine. I clutched his hand in assurance, letting him know that I won’t let go.
His eyes softened in response, a genuine smile playing on his lips as he nodded in gratitude.
At that moment, I felt as if he had become my Krishn.
Maybe because it was at that moment, that I became his Radha.
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