KIRAN
CHAPTER - 1
The thoughts ran through Emon Roy’s mind as he stood in the balcony enjoying the crisp morning air. The breeze blew gently; ruffling his hair in the process. He stood near the railings, elbows resting on the high parapet with his face cupped in his palms. Fingers of steam leapt from the coffee mug perched next to him on the wooden top. His apartment on the twenty-ninth floor of Mont Blanc building was one of the most expensive real estate properties in Bandra, a suburb of Mumbai. A thin man of medium height, he appeared tall because of his long legs. The streaked curly hair which fell a little short of his unusually broad shoulders excited a lot of women. Casually dressed in a kurta and jeans, not many would have considered him a writer, which was ironic, because his literary talent had already fetched him many awards.
He adjusted his glasses as he sipped coffee from the large mug, which had his picture emblazoned on it. The mug was presented to him by his wife Anoushka, on winning the coveted title for his first novel Shattered Dreams. The publishers had got these printed in a limited quantity, to be distributed on a book signing tour. Anoushka had secretly pinched one from the box before the event. Emon was thrilled when she showed him the dark brown porcelain souvenir later. Not long ago, drinking coffee in the printed mug gave him a big kick, but gradually it became just like any other routine.
It had also become a ritual for him to stand here every morning and enjoy his coffee. Although there was a cane swing hanging from the ceiling of the balcony, he seldom used it. He preferred watching the whole city with the cerulean sea on the horizon from his favorite vantage point; the panoramic view gave him a sense of atonement. It had a rejuvenating effect on his mind, an essence so important in a writer’s life. With the mug of unfinished coffee still in his hand, he strolled towards the small adjoining room, which doubled as his working space. There was a reason for that extra bounce in his walk. The nerve-wracking wait was over. He would be able to finish writing his third book. At least, he knew the end.
He eased himself into the cushioned chair, paused for while before typing the first word of the morning. Outside, the sun rose casting glittering rays of gold and orange on his face, forcing him to constantly shift his head sideways to view the laptop screen clearly. The excitement of finishing the book was so overwhelming that he did not mind playing hide-and-seek with the sun rather than pulling down the blinds. He paused once gain, thinking hard, to form those perfect sentences, when he heard Anoushka’s loud call.
“Emon, I have prepared your breakfast,” she said. “I am putting it in the refrigerator. Warm it up in the oven whenever you feel like eating.”
“Okay,” Emon replied, matching her high pitched voice. It never crossed his mind that owning such a big apartment was a disadvantage. That they shouted to communicate with each other never dawned on him.
“You have to pick up Sid from the airport at eleven,” she continued.
“I know. Now stop behaving like my mother,” he said, eyebrows drawn together, trying to conceal his displeasure. He had figured out those perfect punch lines to end the chapter but now he’d lost them. Damn Anoushka.
“Great!” she said, knowing very well how often he forgot important things.
Finally, she came out of the kitchen, untying the apron on the way; ready to leave for the office. Her gaze fell on the digital wall clock. It read half past nine. The day Sunday blinked . Her long walk finally terminated at Emon’s chaotic desk. Unable to endure his disorganized working space, she quickly arranged the things in their proper place.
"So, you were right all along. Kiran has become a film star. You can now complete your unfinished manuscript. That should make you happy," she commented.
"I am happy,” replied Emon.
Emon looked at his wife, impressed by her excellent dress sense and choice of jewelry. The white Salwar Kameez, tie-dyed vermillion Dupatta with matching oxidized ear-rings, necklace, bangles and payal, which always graced her feet transformed her completely. He thought her heart-shaped face complemented her small lithe body very well. But it was her nose ring which drove him crazy, giving her that beautiful ‘ Gypsy ’ appearance. She often used this weakness to blackmail him. To get things done.
"I could have finished the book long ago, but the ending would have been questionable. The concluding chapter would have lacked authenticity. Now that everything has fallen into place, I have no complaints. My only regret is, I shouldn’t have severed my ties with the Indian film industry. It was foolish of me to blame Bollywood for her rumored death,” Emon continued.
“I agree. It was a hasty decision. If you had remained in touch, you would have known of her success a long time ago.”
“I am surprised you and Sid never read about her or saw her picture in any film magazine,” Emon asked. It was more of a statement than a question.
“Emon, be reasonable. We saw her once, that too a long time ago. How do you expect us to remember her face?”
“But her name?”
Anoushka had no answer for that. It was odd that they never heard about her until today. She gave his hand a mild squeeze, trying to calm him.
"Anyway, have the publishers called up recently?" Anoushka continued probing him, her almond shaped eyes full of concern. "The delay must be bothering them. I hope they stick to their promise of a five-book contract."
"Not again, Anoushka," Emon said. God forbid if they changed their plans; how would I ever pay the monthly installments to the builder for this apartment and the brand new Honda City?
"Sid is taking care of that. Remember, this is my third book. There are no formalities. I have given them a deadline, which is still a few weeks from now. In a way, the timing of Kiran’s success couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time."
“I hope he is in touch with the publishers.”
“Don’t worry, Anoushka. Ronnie, the acquiring editor is a close friend of his.”
“Frankly, I am still dazed. Kiran’s sudden reappearance has thrown me off-track. Her phone call has grabbed all my attention since morning.”
“Yes, it is strange.”
“Bizarre would be the right word.”
“You could say that.”
“It might sound odd but I am really looking forward to her premiere today,” Anoushka said, kissing him on the forehead.
She ambled across the room towards the exit.
“I hope you don’t forget that in your excitement,” she continued, as she reached the door.
“No way! I have been waiting for this day for a long time. Thanks for reminding me. You’re an angel. I don't know what I would have done without you.”
Anoushka's face flushed, her eyes twinkled. The word “Angel” aroused her. It was Emon‘s favorite word while making love. She cleared her throat and said, "You are a big liar. Keep those romantic dialogs for your books."
She opened the door and looked back at Emon, who got up from the chair and walked towards her.
“No, I mean it. You, Sid and Kiran have been the three pillars of my life. Especially you Anoushka. I love you.”
“I know, you don’t have to say,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.
She kissed him once again, passionately, on the lips this time. “Tell Sid I’ll see him in the evening. I have a lot to discuss.”
She looked back at him once again from the elevator cabin. She was proud of him. Her love for Emon was born out of long conversations and endless waits, creating an unwavering bond between them.
TAGS - India, Mumbai, Bollywood, Actress, Struggler, Writer, Novelist, Playwrright, Films, Box Office, Glamour
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