Who is not a shoemaker???

Dev.D

Yes, I wasn’t in the movie. Yes, I had nothing to do with the production of it in any way, but, it was a big deal for me. No. And the director in question is no shoemaker!

Why?

College was over. I had stopped working with Nadira Babbar’s Ekjute Theatre Group and joined Barry John. Under his direction, we commenced work on a play called Baghdad ka Ghulam. I was excited to know that sometime in the 80s, King Khan himself had played the title role under Barry Sir’s direction.

Barry John's Baghdad ka Ghulam.  I, in orange.

My desire to become an actor was well-known among my peers by now. Someone suggested I go to audition for an Anurag Kashyap film. I greedily agreed!

Aram Nagar is a legendary place. Spotted with Beverly-Hills-like palm trees, it’s a magical place where in the abundant nearby coffee shops, creative people meet. Much in the nature of a marriage consummating, an idea for a film is conceived at every table, and while most such films have a limited release on that very table, some masterpieces actually see light of day. So …I went to 40, Aram Nagar part 2, with greasepaint on my face. Three gentlemen were in a small wooden floored room to take the audition. Vasan Bala * was one of them.

How to grow mushrooms on your skin!

When it rains in Mumbai…it changes.

The whole house smells…of wet socks… or floaters that have walked under water for hours.

When I shut the windows, the wind bellows menacingly and everything reeks of the same musty smell. Everything seems to grow moist mushrooms. If you take a long nap, you will wake up scratching yourself. The same fungus grows on living, breathing things as well. Run a finger over any thing and I really doubt my sense of touch. Is it wet, is it not? Is it just cold? Want to squeeze this palpable wet-ness out of everything. Blow-dry the house.

If I open the windows, flies, moths and mosquitoes take refuge from the outside. They sit on bare arms, tickle the back of knees and appear suddenly when a wet towel is taken off the hook. The authorities turn of the electricity supply, fearing electrocution in water-logged areas. At eight am, the sky looks like it should at eight pm. All three meals of the day are candlelight dinners.

The clothes don’t dry. The flutter madly in the wind and with moist sulk, await a good dose of sunlight. Like all else.

In the building complex, only one end of the bright yellow see-saw is pokes put of the water like an incomplete example for the Pythagoras theorem.

The blue or black plastic roofs of thatched slums slide dangerously off their structures. They reveal all manner of things stored under them- utensils, brooms, polythene bags, deflated tyre tubes. Floating living-rooms of the lesser fortunate.

Thoughttrain

Birth.Amritsar. Khalistan. Run. Delhi. Joint family. Four brothers. Tomboy. Antidote. Kathak. “Beta, dance for uncle”. Groan. Attention problem. Art. Limelight-hungry. Movies. Madhuri Dixit. Awkward teenager. Puberty. Spectacles. Braces. Ugly-Betty. Art. Recluse. Salman Rushdie. Alanis Morissette. Puberty. Waxing. Contact lenses. Art. More dancing.Performing art.Theatre.Kuhu.Kirti Jain. Aur Kitne Tukde. “I know nothing”. Barry John. College. Mumbai. Barry moves to Mumbai. Baghdad ka Ghulam. Audition. Dev.D. Oye Lucky. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Dolly! Work. No-work. Thanikachalam. Vasan Bala. Wet Bride. Khalid Mohammad.Kennedy Bridge.Independence Day. Anurag Kashyap. Gangs of Wasseypur. (Waiting for June 22^nd).  Waiting. Waiting. Waiting patiently. 

:-D

Maybe we are the change!

It was an easy break by all means. There was no slimy producer offering me a couch as the ladder to success, I wasn’t making an entry as a silly moll or as a sexy item number.

It happened like this. I was acting in a period play called “Baghdad ka Ghulam’ directed Barry John. I played Benazir, a woman who dresses as a man in order to reach her lover in the traditional Arabic 18^th century setup. An assistant spotted me and called me to audition for Dibakar Banerjee’s next film.

26/11

Dibakar, the genius, and I

On the 26^th of November, the cast and crew of Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye were in Goa for the film’s premiere at IFFI. When we emerged glowing from the houseful cheering hall, we heard.

Our premiere to be held the following day was cancelled. Obviously.

So for most of us, the film is the semi-delivered child. The head is popping out, but the limbs are still kicking in the womb. I couldn’t say a decent good bye to nearly a year worth of work. My first film was stuck in my throat, choking me.

I sank into depression…till Rajinder called.

He called to ask how Dibakar Banerjee had his number. He had received a call on his mobile that urged him to make the title track ‘Oye Lucky’ his caller tune. I explained to him that the call must have been from Airtel, not Dibakar.

Rajinder is our driver. He is from Gorakhpur, UP and currently stays in Trilokpuri in Delhi. His voice smiled with the complete satisfaction of watching a good film.