A stormy triangle

'You ready for the take?'

A gangling 60-year Amit looked up to Karan, the director, from above his thick, blue frame of progressive lenses and nodded. 'When is she coming?'

'She'll be here anytime now,' Karan chuckled and winked, 'you going cold feet after all these years?' Amit opted to ignore. It wasn't that he was dying to see her;  yes, there was a bit of apprehension, a little discomfort maybe, he wouldn't deny; and then he knew how habituated she was to coming late to sets, sooner she arrived, sooner they'll be done for the day - it was out of this mix of eagerness that he asked; Karan was way younger to understand.

'Guys get your gears ready, chop chop,' Karan clicked fingers to shepherd his team to the centre of the set.

There, there, chop, chop - lamb chop, pork chop - these kids, this gen, and their ways of expression, Amit shook his head in disapproval; a tad supercilious he was, he admitted, about how well they manoeuvred feelings, emotions with an art of language in their times. Chop chop didn’t stand a chance for his demeanour - not when he was young like Karan, not now when his 6' stature stooped slightly as though to bow before his ripe years in respect.

Was it to defy his conviction or had she mended her ways,  Amit thought when she, Rekha, appeared dot on the hour she was expected. Her elegance hasn't ebbed, Amit silently admired as his eyes followed her shimmy to the podium in a light blue linen gown, her auburn tresses tied in a top notch. Assistant and helpers flocked to her like flies to flame. She removed the dark brown shades with a nimble touch of her left hand and her dewy gaze grazed his through a sea of heads; dimple in her left cheek dipped just enough to acknowledge his presence.

Soon after, Karan was on his toes - the air of the set was impregnated with the usual bustle of shooting, and Amit was in limelight with Rekha, first time after decades, amidst 'lights', 'camera', 'action', and other instructions thrown around by Karan. Hours passed like they never passed before. Their silver screen prowess that swept thousands of fans off their feet in their late teens was working magic once again on the floors of the sumptuous set. Wrapping up a successful take, Amit offered, Rekha, 'Mind a cup of ginger tea?'

'Like old times? Can't see why not,' her beautiful eyes danced with a naughty grin. Flaunting her flair in gorgeous black-gold silk that she slipped into for the her scenes, curving up ruby red lips, batting her thick dark eyelashes, she added, 'Are you nervous catching up after what, twenty years?' Her laughter rang in his ears pushing him down the memory lane. Once they held hands, lunched, dined, and dated - mostly on the sets that were their workspaces and occasionally off the sets. One remarkable shot in the tulips-wrapped variagated fields of Netherlands had especially brought out a camaraderie out of them that till date he couldn't tell apart, discriminate, if it was love or simply acting. And here they were again,  miles apart metaphorically, seemingly lonely in their own busy worlds, or so he thought.

After a formal exchange on each other's families, they talked over ginger tea with the verve of past times about their roles, how to amalgamate their sequences seamlessly, what else the capable director could possibly do with their sequences, and what pains they might face with the punctilious producer of their upcoming movie that brought them to the common floor. The old times were gone, but the old spark, he realised, hadn't.

Weeks passed, the initial awkwardness of meeting a familiar, close what - friend, ex-fiancée, no he could not put a finger on the relationship - after a long time had settled. Amit was once again at as much ease discussing how to perfect the scenes as he was forty years back. Was she too, he wondered.

                                 ~~~~~~~~~~ 

He wouldn't be tired of it if the shooting went on for ever. But good or bad, in favour or against, change rules all realms; they were soon gearing up for the concluding take. Amit was early to the sets, script in his hands, he was glancing more at the door than at the wad of print outs in his hand - the door that'd swing any moment making way for the beguiling racy Rekha. Through his impatient waiting, he reflected how flawlessly Rekha still wore bold makeup and attitude that crowned her as the queen in glamour globe. Beauty conglomerates those days couldn't think outside her presence in their glossies and promotions. Newbies in the industry still had an ocean to pick up from her grace and skill of holding every attention even after all these decades. His train of thoughts were pulled to a halt as she stepped in draped in ocean green risqué chiffon accentuating the greenish gleam in her eyes. The dot at the corner of her left upper lip never attracted his attention as much before. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his head straight as his presence gravitated to hers. He hurried to the sets lest his actions or words turned to a fiasco. Karan didn't spare much time either to commence the final take. 

The frame was domicile of a wealthy merchant; a magnificent chandelier emanating soft yellow glow was perfect for their on-screen clandestine meeting. Outside was gloomy, a light drizzle pitter-pattered on large French windows, adorned with silky valances. 

'And what did you think when you simply walked out of my life to marry Jaya? What more did she have that I didn't? Where were your lovey dovey commitments gone - you are the Hriday aur Jivan Rekha (life and love lines) on my palm that I'd keep safe in my fist? Were they all empty, hollow?' Her tremulous voice echoed in the sets while her querulous vengeful eyes  gave way to tears. 

The light pitter patter was gradually gaining strength, pounding on the French windows. He knew he'd be in the eye of this storm some day, yet he couldn't resist when Karan offered the role to him, detailing every bit of the script, story, and co-actors. Amit steepled and buried his face in his hands.

That was only a part of her script, he calmed himself, I must stick to mine. But nothing could reign his unbridled thoughts. His memory ran him through his capricious years of youth - falling in love with Jaya, moving to his ritzy house at Jubilee Tower smothering any vestigial warmth for Rekha, delivering box-office hits year after year while at the helm of his thriving business, nurturing two adorable children, and then sliding down the hill of fame - nothing lasts forever. He had assented to do this film in an endeavour to overcome the tough trough of life he was in - the trough where he agreed to meet his enigmatic ex with an anticipation to ignite the silver screens once again for their audience. He was sure their flair would garner love, profiting the business, and in turn spiking up his revenues

It wasn't part of the act, yet he found himself striding to her, lending his lean shoulders caressing her deep wounds, and mumbling, 'Life isn't always fair.'

'Camera, close in,' Karan whispered to his troupe.

'Look, I can't fix things, but I'll do what it takes to mend as much as I can,' Amit uttered, his voice muffled in grief.

'And bring back all that I missed in the years that have brought me closer to my grave?' Rekha was relentless.

'Cur, cut,' Karan had allowed a bit of leeway to the veterans of the industry to drift off the script, but not this much. The storm outside was raging, wind and sheets of rain hammering the French windows in an endeavour to break in. 

Karan wheeled his camera away to give them some time to reconcile and recover only to face an irascible petite Jaya walking into the studio. 

'Ma-mya-m, you?' Karan stuttered.

Jaya glowered at him and padded through the tunnel of people to her spouse, 'Shall we?' A cold stiffness cut through Amit and Rekha as they staggered to their feet.

'Jaya, look, it isn't what you might surmise, I, we...,' Amit spluttered.

Jaya gestured to stop, slipped her fingers into Amit's knotted slender ones, and pulled him away - away from the set, away from the crowd, away from his old flame. There was no turning back. Outside, the unabated storm was picking speed or slowing down, nobody could say.

Dona, Sydney, Feb 2024