A Burning(46)

And the guard is not knowing what to say to that, because that is true. So he is saying, “No walking on the grass!”

Then he is taking a close look at my face. “Aren’t you—didn’t you testify at the big trial? Sorry, sorry,” he is saying to me, I am not understanding why.

    When a man is bringing his baby to me, I am dipping an old flower into my small jar of holy water—water from the municipal pump—and I am circling the baby’s head with the flower, dropping dew on the baby, until the baby is looking like he is about to start wailing.

Suddenly a person is saying from behind me, “Lovely, is it you?”

Turning around, I am seeing Mr. Jhunjhunwala. He is wearing jeans and sunglasses which he is pushing on top of his head.

“It is you! Ha-ha!” he is saying, like it is such a surprise that I can be roaming in a tourist spot.

I am saying hello, how is your family, and such things.

“Are you free for one minute?” he is saying after a while. “I wanted to—”

I am giving the baby back to the villager, but not wanting to take money for my non-acting trade in front of the casting director. I am saying, “Free blessing for your golden baby!”

Mr. Jhunjhunwala is now face-to-face with me. He is saying, “Look, Lovely, I finally heard about your testimony at the big trial. So I looked at your reel. Your reel is—!” And he is bringing all his fingers together and kissing them.

“My what?” I am saying.

He is continuing, “Then I saw your WhatsApp video. One hundred percent authentic!”

    “WhatsApp—”

“The video from your acting classes—”

“My practice videos? From Mr. Debnath’s class? How you are seeing it?” I am demanding. “Only my sisters are seeing it.” For one moment the mad thought is running in my head—is he coming to laugh in my face? Is he coming to personally tell me that my acting is B-class?

“Are you joking, Lovely?” he is saying. “I think your sisters must be sharing it, because it is all over WhatsApp. My friends forwarded it to me. So many of them forwarded it to me that in the end I was replying to them, ‘Okay, okay, I saw it already!’ Anyway, now directors are calling me up and saying, ‘Is it the same person who gave the most passionate testimony at that trial? Can you book her?’ So I think you can be perfect for this music video. Are you available tomorrow?”



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THE STUDIO IS FULL of stadium-strength lights and silver sheets that people are holding for bouncing the light correctly. I am watching from the side while the two main actors are embracing in front of a green screen.

“Turn, turn, turn,” the director is calling. The couple is turning round and round. “Now kiss him on the cheek!”

The actress is looking like she will prefer to kiss an elephant’s behind. But she is doing it.

“Cut it,” the director is saying.

    Then, after some minutes of setup, where they are moving the lights and marking my place on the ground with chalk, it is time for my scene.

My scene is only one. But it is repeating and repeating.

Now the couple is getting married, and I am looking up from blessing the bride and winking at the camera.

I am looking up from blessing the bride and winking at the camera.

I am looking up from blessing the bride and winking at the camera.

I am looking up from blessing the bride and, again, winking at the camera. My eye is twitching. The director is coming up to me in the end, and saying, “Lovely, it is not mattering to me whether your words at that trial are true, false, or in between! All I care about is you have that star material. The nation wants to watch you. You will make this song a hit, I am feeling it!”



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WHEN A BREAK IS CALLED, I am going searching for some food, and seeing a table full of sponge cakes and fruits. In the heap, I am looking for a picture of a brown cake. I am wanting chocolate flavor. Why not fully enjoy? Finally I am spotting one, at the bottom of the heap, when an assistant is appearing. He is tapping my shoulder with his notepad and saying, “Your break area is over there, outside! This is A-category actors only.”

    I am still not really understanding this A-category B-category business.

“Okay,” I am saying, and turning away.

But the assistant is saying, “Please! You cannot be taking cake from here.”

So I am putting it back. I am wishing to ask the assistant if he is not knowing who I am! Is he not seeing my video? But everywhere people are expecting that a person like me will make a scene, so it is my dear wish that I am not making any scene in this professional environment. I am going to join my B-category people, no problem.

Outside the studio, in the field, the light is bright in my eyes. My head is feeling woozy. So long I have been in that studio, where everything outside the circle of lights is black.

There is a crowd of extras around something on a table. A water filter.

A woman is shouting, “How can the water finish? Bring more water!”

I am walking closer and another man is saying, “Let someone faint, then they will learn the lesson.”

Other than an empty water filter, there are some blackened bananas on the table. From looking at the bananas I am feeling them in my mouth—squishing on my tongue, smelling a bit fermented, rotting in the heat. So I am swallowing my saliva and waiting for the new water jar to come.