| Narayani V Manapadam | July 2024 | Short Story |
[Scene 1 Take 1 – Bratati Cinema Hall, Gariahat]
Angoorbala looked ethereal in a floral silk saree with a contrast long-sleeved blouse. A couple of clips, decorated with mother-of-pearls, ensured that her coiffeur didn’t play truant, as she pranced around in a garden. Her luscious lips, when she smiled, revealed perfectly shaped white teeth. As she lip-synced to tumi kothai*, her kohl-laden almond eyes reflected the inner turmoil raging inside her heart, as she pined for a glimpse of her lover. Her graceful movements and coquettish expressions held a virginal allure and appealed to the conservative public.
Nripati Kumar, her co-star, hid behind a tree. Dressed in a simple dhoti and kurta, his eyes twinkled mischievously, as he watched his lady fiddling with the end of her saree. She was throwing furtive glances around. The famous lopsided grin that had sent many a female heart aflutter appeared on his clean-shaven face. He ended her misery and appeared before her by trilling la…la…la…la.
Angoorbala’s eyes lit up like a hundred-watt bulb, as her lover approached her, hands outstretched. Her gaze shifted coyly to the grass beneath her feet. In a swift motion, Nripati grabbed her hand and drew her towards him. He then cupped her face between his palms and brought his lips closer to hers. The camera panned to a rose, over which a bee hovered, sucking its nectar, flapping its wings incessantly.
Not a sound emerged from the audience at the housefull matinee show, as the lead pair of Saat Sagorer Paar** set the 35 MM screen on fire with their sizzling chemistry.
An old lady broke the silence and whispered to her husband, “Why can’t these two get married?”
[Scene 2 Take 1 – Raichak]
The steel-grey Chevrolet Impala glided to a halt in front of an innocuous-looking two-storey house on the banks of the Ganges. A woman in a pistachio green Jamdani saree got out, adjusting her goggles. A middle-aged servant opened the main door and folded his hands in front of her. His wife rushed to the kitchen. Their impassive faces and the no-nonsense way in which they went about their duties indicated that the woman driving the Impala was a frequent visitor to the house.
A flight of winding stairs took her to a spacious room with a river-facing balcony on the first floor. A vase containing pink roses gave off a delightful aroma. Fresh floral bedspreads had been laid over the four-poster bed. A magazine lay strewn on one of the pillows. Smiling to herself, the woman sat on the bed and picked up the Cine Glitz.
The Star To Watch Out For – proclaimed the headlines. The journalist had gushed over the latest sensation from the Bengali film industry and had traced his meteoric rise from his humble beginnings as a schoolteacher to a matinee idol.
Angoorbala traced her long fingers over the picture of Nripati Kumar. As of now, none of the media persons had got a whiff of the tumultuous affair they had been carrying on for over six months now.
“This is a dream come true for me.” Nripati emerged from the bathroom.
Angoorbala turned in his direction. “You deserve every bit of the adulation that comes your way, my love. I am so proud of you.”
Nripati joined her on the bed, taking her hand in his, and caressing her smooth skin. “Still, I’m nowhere near you.”
Angoorbala stared at him for a second. For an actor whose eyes spoke volumes, Nripati’s face was impassive. It must be the stress of the weekend shooting. With a smile, she whispered in his ears, “I have more experience than you in this industry. And… are we competing against each other?”
Nripati turned towards her and winked. “I’m joking, darling.”
Relieved, Angoorbala lay on her back, pulling him gently towards her. No retakes were required as his lips sought hers hungrily, and she didn’t stop him when his hand expertly unclasped the pin attached to the anchal of her saree.
[Scene 3 Take 1 – Indranagari Studios, Tollygunge – Angoorbala’s Film Shoot]
Angoorbala folded The Calcutta Daily and placed it carefully on the table. Two sheets of paper with her lines for the day lay next to the empty teacup, kept firmly in place by a crystal paperweight.
“Now where is Habul when I need him?” That was the Assistant Director searching for the spotboy.
The cameraman was barking out instructions to his hassled assistants. He needed that perfect angle, not only to accentuate Angoorbala’s beauty but also to bring out her angst. She was going to enact a grieving scene.
The makeup artist sat on an apple box, grateful for the few seconds of peace to take a puff.
Angoorbala hummed. Tumi kothai? She wished for the day to get over and read the article in peace, soaking in every alphabet. And why not? She had arrived on the scene in style. Every newspaper vied with its rivals to outline the impressive filmography of the superstar.
Mir Abbasi, the journalist who had written Angoorbala’s success off as a flash in the pan, now sang paeans of praise.
Angoorbala once again demonstrates why she is Bengal’s most accomplished actress. Her mind-blowing performance in Saat Sagorer Paar fetched her the coveted ‘Best Actor – Female’ at the 10th National Awards. The talented beauty from Calcutta will receive this prestigious award from the President of India, to be held in Delhi around April end, 1962. In an industry dominated by Bombay, Angoorbala’s win assumes significance as it puts Bengal firmly on the Indian cinema map.
The cacophony in the set didn’t bother Angoorbala anymore. She yearned for the bustle and the arclights. Her mind went back to that memorable day.
[Scene 4 Take 1 – Indranagari Studios – 2 Years Ago]
“Lights! Camera! Action!”
Angoorbala looked her co-star in the eye. “I have f.. f… fallen in ….”
“Cut!”
The director spewed out a couple of juicy expletives. Tears stung Angoorbala’s eyes, as she wished for the ground to swallow her up. This was proving to be a disastrous day for the debutante.
The reigning superstar Srinjoy Chatterjee shrugged his shoulders and dashed to his chair. His assistant followed him with a cup of tea. The producer ordered a plate of fish cutlets for the famished hero.
Licking her wounds, Angoorbala crouched on the apple box. She began to read out her lines softly.
“This will not help,” smirked Srinjoy. “You’ve to put yourself in the shoes of a passionate woman.”
Angoorbala didn’t respond. Srinjoy Chatterjee was the reason why she had decided to join films. Quitting college midway, she had relentlessly chased producers and auditioned for roles. Finally, Lady Luck smiled at her, and Moti Sanyal signed her for his ambitious Kanya.
Angoorbala looked at Srinjoy. Her heart twisted into a thousand knots as his eyes darted towards her. There was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes. He wanted her!
“Another take?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“Action!” screamed Moti Sanyal.
Angoorbala looked at her heartthrob longingly. “I have fallen in love with you.”
The scene was okayed in a single take.
Kanya was a box-office hit. Angoorbala tasted success. And Srinjoy Chatterjee’s love.
[Scene 5 Take 1 – The Present – Raichak]
Nripati Kumar flung the Sambad Pratidin on the floor. All his hard work and dedication had come to nought.
The small article on the third page was kind to him, but he felt as if the journalist was rubbing salt in his wounds.
Bengal’s Nripati Kumar was a serious contender for the National Awards under the ‘Best Actor – Male’ category, but his flamboyant contemporary from Madras, Chandrakanth Ganesan, walked away with the honours. However, Nripati’s performance in Saat Sagorer Paar has earned appreciation from critics and fans alike. He remains a talent to watch out for.
“Talent? My foot!” he muttered to himself. He was way better than that overhyped Angoorbal.
His mind went back to that afternoon when he had demonstrated his ease in front of the camera, much to the amazement of Moti Sanyal and the reigning heroine.
[Scene 6 Take 1 – Indranagari Studios – 1 Year Ago]
Nripati Kumar sat on the chair, crossing his legs. If he was nervous about his debut, he didn’t show it. Angoorbala walked into the set, trailed by the director. He couldn’t hear what they were discussing, but judging by the eye-rolls, Angoorbala seemed not too keen on doing a film with a newcomer.
As they neared him, Nripati could hear every word. Angoorbala didn’t bother to speak softly.
“Listen, Moti da. I respect you a lot. But are you sure about this man? Were you there during the auditions?”
Sanyal nodded at her. “Trust me, Angoor. He is fabulous. We can’t afford to lose such a talent.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Angoorbala called the makeup artist to apply a fresh coat of lipstick.
Moti Sanyal whispered to her before ambling to his seat. “You too were a debutante once.”
The camera rolled. Nripati Kumar looked Angoorbala in her eyes. “Deride me. Trample over me. But my love for you is unflinching.”
The scene was okayed in a single take. Nripati didn’t fail to notice the look of amazement on Angoorbala’s face.
[Scene 7 Take 1 – Raichak]
“Can I ask you something?” Angoorbala leaned towards Nripati and whispered in his ears, as they stood on the balcony, watching the sunset over the Ganges.
Nripati nodded.
“You don’t seem too happy with my win,” she mumbled.
“Of course, I am. This award rightfully belongs to you.”
Angoorbala took his hand in hers. Not a word more was spoken between the two.
Nripati broke the silence. “I think we should get married, Angoor.”
Angoorbala raised her eyebrow. “Nripati! We have known each other for only a few months now. Isn’t it a bit too early? The audience will never accept a married woman as a heroine. It’s the end of the road for me as far as lead roles are concerned.”
“So? What’s the problem? Why don’t you quit acting? I am there for you. We can live in luxury.”
“How can you say something like that, Nripati? You have been behaving strangely ever since we came here. Is it about the awards?”
“Oh wow! You’ve won a prestigious award. Congratulations! Why do you keep on repeating that? As if you are the first person ever to win this!”
Angoorbala’s face turned ashen. She released his hand. “Ah! You are jealous!”
Nripati lit up a cigar. “No way! I have my head firmly on my shoulders.”
“Are you implying that I am proud?”
“I didn’t mean that. If I happen to win an award, rest assured, I am not going to crow over it. Unlike you. You seem to be suddenly under the misconception that you are the best actress India has ever seen.”
Angoorbala’s voice quivered. “I just gave an interview to an English daily. Nothing else. And speaking of my acting skills, I know there are much better actors in Bombay and Madras who are just as talented as I am, if not more. So, dear Nripati, please dismiss those thoughts away. We are happy in our space. That’s what matters.”
“Happy?” Nripati spat out the word. He continued, “What happiness are you talking about? You didn’t have any qualms sleeping your way to the top. Don’t we all know how you wrecked Srinjoy Chatterjee’s career? And now.. strutting around, pretending to be innocent!”
His cheeks stung, as Angoorbala’s slap reverberated in the room.
“My reputation as a home breaker didn’t deter you in any way from having your way with me,” Angoorbala spoke through gritted teeth.
Nripati puffed on his cigar. “I thought I loved you. But I am glad I was proved wrong. Women in my family are revered like a devi.”
“And of course, I am not,” Angoorbala said sarcastically. “You want to flaunt me as your trophy wife. And yet, you have the audacity to accuse me of having loose morals.”
“Oh shut up! You are no different from those whores in Sonagachi. The only difference is, you are famous, while they struggle for even basic amenities.”
“In that case, I don’t see any reason why we should continue this charade. Let’s call it quits. Go ahead, Nripati Kumar. I am freeing you from my immoral clutches.” With that, Angoorbala exited the room.
[Scene 8 Take 1 – Indranagari Studios]
“You look pale, Angoor.” Moti Sanyal looked at her with concern.
Angoorbala smiled wilfully. “I am alright, dada.”
The director patted her shoulder. “Okay. As you say.” With that, he went away, shouting at the cameraman and sending the spot boys into a frenzy.
It had been a month since Angoorbala had ended her relationship with Nripati Kumar. But Moti Sanyal had come up with another stupendous script, which he termed as the sequel to the award-winning Kanya, and she couldn’t stop herself from signing on the dotted line.
She knew Nripati Kumar was to replace Srinjoy Chatterjee. She wondered if she could have requested Moti da to come up with a replacement actor. But, how could she? Nobody knew about her scandalous affair. And Moti da had to tweak the script to justify the original star’s absence. Any more change in the cast would make the media suspicious. That was the last thing she needed – a fodder for gossip.
No way was she going to relinquish her numero uno spot for an insecure man. She had done it with Srinjoy. She would do the same to Nripati if the need arose. But as of now, the cine-going public wanted the super-hit jodi of Angoorbala and Nripati Kumar on screen, and she wouldn’t disappoint her fans.
She signalled to the director that she was ready.
[Scene 9 Take 1 – Angoorbala’s House – 18 Months Ago]
The bell rang thrice in succession. A servant rushed to open the door.
Srinjoy Chatterjee burst into the living room. “What’s the meaning of all this nonsense?”
Angoorbala was seated on the sofa, draped in a floral kaftan. She crossed her legs, gesturing for the servant to leave them alone. Stifling a yawn, she asked the guest in a cool tone, “What’s wrong?”
Srinjoy flung a sheet of paper at her. “My wife has filed for divorce.”
“And is that my problem?”
Srinjoy seethed with rage. “You destroyed me.”
Angoorbala remained calm. “I didn’t. You couldn’t bear to see a woman upstaging you on screen. Fans want my autograph nowadays. Journalists are vying with each other to interview me. As long as I played second fiddle to you, life was smooth. But I’m getting meatier roles. It threatens your status. Am I right?”
“This fame will be short-lived, Angoor.”
“So be it. Let me bask in the limelight as long as it lasts. And now leave before I call the police. Your innings as an actor is over. If I whisper a word about you, the public will believe me.”
“You will send me to jail.”
Angoorbala shook her head. “My motto is simple. Be nice to me, and I’ll do the same. Mess with me, and brace yourself to see me in a Maa Kali avatar.”
“Don’t compare yourself to a Goddess!”
“I’m not. I didn’t use you to gain a foothold in the industry. Whatever happened between us was consensual. I didn’t nag you to marry me. Your ego came in our way.”
“Your image will be spoiled too, you wretch!”
“Not if your wife goes public with her tales of abuse.”
Muttering an expletive, Srinjoy Chatterjee left her house.
A week later, the newspapers all over Bengal went agog with the breaking news.
In a shocking move, Srinjoy Chatterjee’s wife filed for divorce, citing domestic violence as the cause. His alleged lover Angoorbala has distanced herself from the controversy, emphasizing that Srinjoy was just a good co-star. However, the rising star refused to support the disgraced idol, stating she would always stand with the wife.
With this, Srinjoy Chatterjee’s career is all but finished.
The question on every producer’s lips now is – Who will be the next male superstar of Bengali cinema?
[Scene 10 Take 1 – Bratati Cinema Hall, Gariahat]
Angoorbala sat on the nuptial bed, legs folded, her hands resting on her knees. Rose petals were strewn across the white bedsheets. A lilting music played in the background, as Nripati entered the bedroom, unbuttoning his kurta. Angoorbala adjusted her bridal saree. The mellifluous strains of the shehnai took over, as the groom took the bride’s hand in his, and stroked it lovingly. As he leaned forward to kiss her, the camera panned to the bedside lamp.
Not a sound emerged from the audience at the housefull matinee show, as the lead pair of Kanya 2 set the 35 MM screen on fire with their sizzling chemistry.
A young woman in the audience leaned towards her husband. “Uff! Whatever you say .. Angoorbala is Angoorbala. The National Awards are hers again for sure. Mark my words.”
*** THE END ***
Glossary:
* Tumi Kothai – Where are you?
** Saat Sagorer Paar – Across the seven seas
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Narayani works in an IT firm. She has garnered appreciation for her stories, poems, and travelogues in various literary platforms like Penmancy, ArtoonsInn and Beyond The Box. Her works have found a permanent place in anthologies and magazines like The Hive Publishers, Pachyderm Tales, Chrysanthemum Chronicles, MeanPepperVine, Asian Literary Society, The Wise Owl, and Tell Me Your Story.
She is the recipient of the Sagar Memorial Award 2023 (3rd Prize), and the Bharat Award for Literature 2024 (1st Prize). She resides in Jamshedpur with her accountant husband Venkatesh and their mischievous cat Uttam.
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Homepage image by Ashim Das via Unsplash
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