Chapter 18

Sunday evening when I was leaving from office, I found my cellphone dancing to the familiar tune of best friends forever.

"Say." I mouthed disinterestedly.

"I need your help." Jigar sounded distressed.

"O k a y." I acted cool.

"So, I launched my movie poster yesterday...

"So..." I asked him pointedly. I wanted him to break the suspense immediately.

"And one of my co-producers of the film is giving me feelers like he isn't interested in this project anymore and he is the man I am relying on to sail my ship in the Hindi film industry."

"You want to join Bollywood? Like seriously?" I was shocked at Jigar's revelation.

"Yes, is there a problem?"

"None. Continue."

"Can you go and meet him?"

"Me? Who will allow me? I am nobody."

"Listen, don't panic."

"Don't you, don't panic me. I am new in this city barely managing on my own without money, friends and struggling to keep myself sane without work and you want me to head on for a more complex battle."

"Don't worry, I will talk to his PA to get access to him. I just want you to go and connect me to him."

"This is a stupid idea."

Jigar was desperate. "Abhi, it's really important for me to talk to him. I have been trying for days to reach him but to no avail."

There was silence for a few seconds, probably a minute. I was processing his words and thinking of plausible excuses to ditch him. But I felt a tad guilty for not helping him when he helped me whenever I needed him.

"Okay. When and where do I go to meet him?" I agreed.

"Now, head to SOBO."

"SOBO!" I rolled my eyes.

"South Bombay. He is at Taj for dinner with his wife. I mean that's what I got to know from his PA."

"Who is this producer fellow you are so desperate about?"

"Raman Jindal."

"What? Do you know he is the only person who gets bad reviews for being interviewed? He is snarky, arrogant and refuses to entertain people."

"Chill. It's just one of those images portrayed by him. He is nice. Eccentric – maybe, but he is sweet and he is my mother's friend and..."

"He is your mother's friend, not mine," I was enraged.

"He is going through some problems in his personal life," Jigar explained.

"His wife is cheating on him with a newbie singer and his sugar baby is supposedly pregnant and throwing tantrums to outdo him in the press. Some problems he should definitely be worried about."

"Wow...you are updated with the newest gossip in one week of travelling to Mumbai."

"Gossip is the only thing I am learning here, nothing else."

"That bad...eh."

"Hmm. So, how do I reach South Bombay?"

"You don't know South Bomba? Lady, what is the use of you travelling to Mumbai?"

"I have been wondering that myself every day," I spoke with contempt.

"TMP, he is dining at a restaurant there with..."

"Got it! What am I supposed to say?"

"Just tell him you are my girlfriend..."

"Ouch."

"Truth hurts. Jokes apart, the cocky ass that Raman is, he has a reputation of jumping into beds, so let's avoid any misdemeanour."

"You just said he is dining with his wife. I am sure he would keep his fangs in control in front of her."

"If you believe so. Just don't push your luck too hard on this one. And if he ever brings the idea of discussing things in his suite, just refuse him outright and don't entertain him ever."

"Ahem...you know a lot."

"Yes, and Abhi please trust me on this."

"I am not a fool."

"You aren't a fool but too innocent to fall prey."

"Okay sir, on your instinct."

"Can we get back to the more important things you might need to say to him?"

"Yes." I was put in my place with his chiding."

"I don't have a story ready for you." He stated.

"I am very well aware." I snapped.

"So, how does this go?"

"I don't know." And I knew Jigar was in a full-on panic mode. I had to steer control to make some sense out of this situation.

"Don't you have any other people to rely on for your film?"

"There are...it's just that Raman offered a very secure or a better deal for me. Also, with him being a part of this project means access to a lot of inner networks."

"You are Naina's son. Naina Bhansali's – the superstar of the 90s."

"So much so for the debate on nepotism by non-industry people."

"Hmm. Nepotism sucks but the truth is having a Godfather in any workplace or industry never sucks. You need to get an opportunity to let someone know you have talent. The struggle to let people know you are talented and worth the money is a back-breaking task. Look at me I have managed to get into this uber-cool place but still struggling to let people know I am talented."

Jigar's "hmmm" was an assurance he was hearing me.

"Can I do something for you?" He asked.

"Thanks, but you can't help me forever."

"I can."

And before it escalated into a never-ending debate, I told Jigar I would manage with the help of Google. He asked me to take a cab but that would have burnt a hole in my pocket. I decided to try the local trains.

I quickly called Jivi Bua and told her I would be late due to some work that was yet to be finished. I searched Google Maps and found the nearest local station to be within walking distance from the office. I would have to get off at Churchgate and hail a cab or bus from thereon to reach TMP. I quickly packed my belongings and left the office.

My first local train experience was fun. Perhaps because it was a Sunday and the trains were not packed to the brim. It was an enjoyable affair. Standing at the door of the coach, the breeze blowing my hair felt like a picture worth capturing for a fashion magazine. Except that I was no model. My wayward hair was a reminder of my perfectly messy life. Blowing away in different directions and searching for my place in the fast-paced life of this city. Mumbaikars never find peace. Their peace perhaps lies in their constant struggle to earn better and do better in life with each passing day.

It was fun exploring the city on my own. South Bombay was totally different from the Mumbai, I had experienced till now. The old-world charm of the British era and the new zing of modern India was on view at their best. The architectural splendour on display enthralled me. History was my favourite subject and getting lost in old stories was something I loved to do. This Mumbai was worth exploring.

The posh English cafes were thronged by tourists from different countries. And I could see the fashionable Mumbaikars hobnobbing. The streets were dotted with boutiques of the who's who of the fashion world. The myriad colours and intricate artwork on display was a paradise for a lover of Indian culture.

When I arrived at the magnanimous TMP I was at a loss. I was shabbily dressed compared to the ladies who walked out of their expensive cars. An octogenarian wearing a designer label and diamonds on her neck gave me an inferiority complex that would last for a long time. She carried herself with so much élan that I was mesmerized by her confidence. Did money unleash confidence in you or do you need a striking personality to carry off such clothes?

My hundred-rupee bag brought from the street could stand no chance to the Louis Vuitton and Chanel these ladies were showing off. I felt so timid and scared at that moment and so out of place. I wanted to run and call Jigar, give him a piece of my mind for sending me to a hell hole like this to make a fool of myself.

The ping on my mobile indicated the arrival of Jigar's text message. The man was bang on time to ensure I don't duck out of tough situations. I held my head high and walked in. The security on the gate troubled me; what if they found something questionable in my attire and they ask me to go away. What if they found an illegal thing in my bag and I was shamed in front of all these affluent people? I was totally paranoid by the time it was my time to get frisked.

The guard at the gate greeted me with the same warmth and congruence that he did to others. Perhaps I wasn't too out of place or perhaps he was being kind to me before I was shown the door. They handed me a tray to put my bag and cell phone in to pass through the scanner. I was constantly praying throughout those few seconds to ensure I did not land myself in trouble.

I managed to go in without raising any suspicions. I checked my phone. Jigar had shared Jindal's assistant's number as well as the man himself. I shuddered at the thought of calling him. I picked up my phone and took the easy route.

"Hello?" The deep baritone voice of Jindal's assistant on the other end made me go dumb.

"See me at the Pearl Room." And the line was clipped.

I was too shocked to react. He hung up on me. Jigar's warning rang in my ears. The man had a history of preying on young starlets but I was just an average girl. Can I trust these horrible men?

I decided to be a little bold. I had to first enquire where the Pearl Room was.

I looked at the receptionist; she seemed friendly and approachable but I clammed up when it was my turn to speak. I decided to look for the Pearl Room on my own. I took the first elevator on the left and sashayed on confidently that I would find my way.

I pressed a random number on the elevator. When the doors opened, I was at a rooftop restaurant at Taj. I glided inside the restaurant and got soaked by the aroma of the cool breeze flowing in from the sea. The view of the bay and the Gateway was stunning. It enraptured me to an extent that I completely forgot the reason I was here for. I stood at the balcony, holding the railing for some time until I was disturbed by one of the waiters at the restaurant.

"Ma'am, your table number, please?"

The trance was broken.

"I am sorry, I did not catch you," was the immediate honest reply.

"Table number?"

"Oh!"

"Actually, I am supposed to be at the Pearl Room, I pressed the wrong number on the elevator and landed here. Could you help me please with the way?" I said apologetically.

"Sure, Ma'am. Pearl Room is on the first floor. Take the first right and walk straight."

"Thank you so much. I am indebted."

I saw a pair of familiar eyes looking at me. His lips curved in an upward bend on seeing me while I just stared at his face rudely.

"Do you plan to get in?" I felt ridiculed by that question. I was standing for the elevator, so obviously it was a yes.

"Hi!" I said. "Ahh...yes." I couldn't get clumsier.

The waiter left my side. I thanked him profusely once again until the doors closed and Agam and I stood next to each other.

"So, what brings you here?" I hated Agam's inquisitiveness.

"The same reason as yours."

Agam raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Cocky?"

"Sarcasm at your silly question."

"I am offended."

It was my turn to raise eyebrows.

"Wow, for what?"

"For your smugness."

"If it satisfies you, I am here to meet a family friend."

"That seems appropriate."

The elevator dinged and came to my rescue.

"Do you mind if I make a call?" I asked.

He looked at me with piercing eyes. "Do you need my permission?"

"Isn't it rude to stall the conversation abruptly and move on to the other?"

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Go ahead. I won't disturb you."

"Thanks."

We both exited on the same floor. I turned towards him to bid him goodbye. Agam went inside the restaurant named Bistro while I headed to the Pearl Room which was a private dining section of the same restaurant. I tried dialling Jindal's assistant but I could not reach him.

I called Jigar but he wasn't available. It kept ringing and went to his voicemail. The only choice left with me was now to meet the man directly and introduce myself. I was trembling out of fear. When I saw Jindal relaxing at the table with his arm candy in tow, I felt a knot tightening in my stomach. I mustered all my courage and went up to him. I dialled Jigar frantically and at last, he picked up. I told him to be handy as I walked up to Jindal's table.

"Excuse me," I spoke in a honey laden sweet voice that I could not believe existed within me. Jindal turned to me bewildered. His arm candy was Nikitaa Popov, the queen of item numbers.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Mr Jindal. I am Jigar Bhansali's girlfriend." The words were not familiar to my tongue and came off as alien, but this seemed a better introduction than my name, which was of no importance to him.

He was unaffected by my introduction but politely offered me a seat at his table.

"How may I help you?"

I heaved a sigh of relief at his directness. My dad had once told me that the rich loved to be on a pedestal. And though I hated it, I found this working perfectly in the case of Naina Bhansali and some of her rich friends. And Jindal was no exception.

"Jigar often talks about you and how you are guiding him for his debut through your excellent advice. I am sure your experience and your knowledge will benefit him immensely. Thank you for taking him under his wing. I am delighted to see him working so hard for his first movie." I spoke all of it in one go. Jindal must have thought I had rehearsed it before speaking.

Raman Jindal nodded in acknowledgement and tried to appear modest.

"He is Naina's son after all." I wondered at the proximity that these two shared. I smiled and cringed inwardly at my thoughts. Before I could speak more, the waiter was back with drinks. The smell of alcohol on the table was nauseating for a teetotaler like me.

Jindal downed his peg in a go while the lady took small sips of the wine from her glass. Smart girl, it is better not to be inebriated with this man. You never know what tricks he will pull out to take you to bed.

"What would you like to drink?" Jindal enquired politely.

"Oh! No, thank you for your offer. I am so sorry I am spoiling your dinner with your friend. I just could not stop myself from thanking you personally for helping Jigar. I am actually here for dinner with my colleagues. I just saw you and thought I should drop by." I continued with my story very honestly.

"Jigar did mention you were working in Mumbai and we would meet soon. I didn't know it would be so soon."

I simply flashed my teeth at his comment because deep down I was seething with anger at Jigar for telling an outright lie to his almost business partner. Before I could speak anything further, Jigar called. I excused myself and let Jindal know it was Jigar. He was unperturbed and showed no sign of discomfort at the idea of talking to Jigar. I believe Jigar was getting distrustful without any reason. Jindal seemed keen to help him out in his career.

I picked up the call and spoke such words that pronounced my love for Jigar without even acknowledging anything in public.

"Hi, baby! Guess who I met at TMP today, Mr Raman Jindal." Jigar snorted at the other hand. And I caught Jindal by total surprise when I offered him the phone to talk with Jigar.

Jindal and Jigar spoke for about ten minutes on the phone while I waited with bated breath for everything to work out between them. Jigar wanted this to work out desperately. While Jindal and Jigar talked, I turned my gaze to the starlet at the table and her jewellery. However, I was too dumb to make out whether she was wearing real sapphires or artificial ones to keep up the charade.

I glanced at the other tables, only to find my eyes meeting with Agam. He was seated in a position where I could see Bini and him clearly. Bini was leaning on to him and laughing continuously. I wondered what the joke was that turned the foul-mouthed Bini into a gregariously funny person. Agam didn't falter for a second to see me at the private section of the hotel. Perhaps I was living up to his false notion of belonging to the privileged class.

Mr Jindal handed me the phone and I averted my eyes from Agam to him. Jindal seemed happy after talking to Jigar. I told him I would get in touch with him shortly. I decided to leave and stood up. He offered me dinner which I politely refused citing my previous commitment. I shook hands with him and the starlet before calling it a night. I turned towards the exit, and Jindal politely reminded me that was the wrong direction. I pretended to walk towards my colleagues and I could feel Jindal's eyes on my back. I had no option but to go to Agam and Bini to be my rescuers in this tight position.

"Oh, Bini! How nice to see you!" That was the worst surprised act ever. Bini was more surprised at my surprised exclamation than my presence at the hotel. She murmured a hi but with much disdain. Bini's aloofness did not escape the other man at the table who was surprised to see my outburst and Bini's lacklustreness.

"Your friend?" He enquired but she dismissed it with no interest. He was Bini's brother as he introduced himself later. He was embarrassed by her tardy response. He brought his hand out and introduce himself. "Sujoy Chattophadyay." -the author of the national bestseller 'If I May'.

"Are you for real?" I asked in disbelief. "I need to pinch myself, I am a huge fan of your writings and even follow you on social media."

Sujoy broke into a laugh at my epic fan moment with him. Binodini for sure was cringing and hating me for intruding on their private dinner. But I cared for nothing. I could turn into a shameless leech if it was about literature and books.

"Why don't we continue our conversation while you are seated Ms...?"

"Abhilasha Bhayani," Agam spoke for me. He was clearly irritated.

"You know her?" Sujoy asked.

"She works at FMN and with Bini, so..." Agam explained. Sujoy did not seem to buy his reason and I could not understand why. The non-verbal communication that happened between the two friends through their eyes and body language was enough to speak about the bond they shared.

I sat next to Sujoy with my mouth open in wonder and brought out my hand to shake.

"Call me Sujoy. After all, you are Bini's friend." Sujoy told me.

"Colleague," Bini interjected.

"Yeah, we just happen to be working in the same place," I said in a flat tone.

"Miss Bhayani," and I turned to Agam.

"Agam, you were saying something." And my address to him on a first-name basis made his professional pretence fall in front of Sujoy. The look that passed on Sujoy's face was that of fascination while Agam seemed to be flustered. Bini was the least affected of all about what was happening. She was too busy on her phone to pay attention to me or our conversation.

"Why don't we order something for you to drink?" Sujoy suggested. His kindness made me nervous suddenly, but I declined the offer; trying to avoid a foot in the mouth moment.

"She is here to meet a family friend," Agam said making Sujoy twitch in his chair.

I hesitated for a second. "Aaa...sorry yes. I was here to meet a family friend. I escaped dinner with them on the pretext of finding my colleagues here. Sorry, and thanks for helping."

Agam quirked his eyebrow while Sujoy being the polite man insisted on having dinner with them. I refused. But I obliged him till they finished their first round of drinks.

I was not welcome and totally aware of it. While Sujoy and I conversed about his books and stories passionately, Agam and Bini were lost in a conversation amongst themselves and their phones. As soon as Sujoy finished emptying the contents of his glass, I rose immediately and announced my departure. The gentleman that Sujoy was, he offered to drop me at the door. I declined his offer, apologizing for spoiling their dinner plans. I had already invaded too much of their time. He did not mind the intrusion and bid me farewell with the promise that he would see me again very soon.

I left without a glance at Bini. Agam was totally indifferent to my presence, however, he stood up and ushered me out. I was tired and hungry after the hell of an exciting end to a boring Sunday. Agam and I walked in silence. My mind was raging at his pretence. As we stood waiting for the elevator in complete silence, I found Jindal walking towards us.

"Abhilasha, we meet again." Jindal spoke warmly, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"Yes," I nodded, scared at what could go wrong next.

Agam recognized him.

"How was your dinner?" he inquired.

"Fabulous. I had a great time. Thank you for asking."

I slowly introduced Agam to Mr Jindal as my colleague from the office and Mr Jindal as one of the top producers of Bollywood. Nikitaa was nowhere around him. She must have left earlier to avoid the prying eyes of people.

Agam if surprised to see Jindal speaking so warmly with me did not betray it on his face. He remained poker-faced throughout. I tugged Agam's hand and took him in the elevator to avoid any suspicion from Jindal. Jindal bid me adieu at the gate of the hotel. Finally, when he was out of sight, my mind and body felt relaxed. Agam avoided speaking until he left.

"Raman Jindal is your family friend?"

"Kind of," I replied. I wanted to avoid discussing this topic at length. I did not want to spin a story either nor divulge details. I brusquely thanked him and citing getting late as an excuse left him to head back home.