Tara looked at the number on her screen and let out a long sigh.
One month. She had just enough money to last her for this month’s rent, food and commute.
She had no idea what she was going to do after the last rupee ran out.
Quite apart from everything else, the money was symbolic too. The morning after she had put her foot down and it had shaken the foundations of their home, her mother had put an envelope in her hand. She had discovered a slip of paper inside with an account number. Before she could ask or protest, her mother had held a finger to Tara’s lips.
Tara had understood. This was the money her mother had squirrelled away over the years. Her father was not to know.
Tara’s parents were unconventional in their own way. Both came from business families, but her father had chosen to break away and work a job when his time came. He wanted to provide the best of educations for his daughters, and even harboured a secret desire to see them grow up to become independent. Such things were never said out aloud, but it was novel even to think it, and her parents were considered ‘zara hat ke‘ in their community.
As a result, Tara went to the only convent school in their town, a bit far from where they lived and a bit outside of their budget too. But they thought it worth it, as year after year, Tara excelled in not just academics but also debate, dramatics and dance. She was their golden child and everyone knew it.
And one day this same beloved child, a young adult now, had made the announcement that had thrown the entire family off-kilter. She wanted to go to Bombay and become a film actress.
Over several days, weeks, the family had wrestled with this alien idea in their midst. There had been incredulity, anger, threats, pleas and silence. Tara had expected resistance but was shocked by the degree of it. Then one day when her father was at work, she had cornered her mother and appealed to her. They were both tired of fighting. The mother had seen something in her girl that she never had before, a determination and a quiet conviction.
Then on she was on her side, as was her younger sister.
Her father had attempted a final volley, alternating between arguments and entreaties, but Tara had been unrelenting. He had hung his head and gone back to his bedroom, shutting himself in and his first-born out.
Traveling light, Tara has felt the weight of her father’s categorical disappointment and her mother’s tentative belief on her journey to Bombay.
She had made the money last nearly two years. Dreams were expensive, she discovered after arriving in Bombay, the city in the business of manufacturing and selling them as well as destroying the ones that were past their due date.
She had gone about it methodically. Having a friend in the industry helped her get a lot right – where to stay such that landing up for a last minute audition was never a problem, the workshops to join, the places to hang out, and so on.
Her friend had also introduced her to a few agents and casting agencies. She had told her where to look for casting calls.
The first month brought with it many revelations. The biggest one being that every aspirant must know their “look”. Are you the motherly kind or did you look rich? Did you have the small-town spunk and go-getter vibe or could you churn out a big city drawl on demand?
Tara found, much to her surprise, that she looked what was called “upmarket”. But her accent left much to be desired.
Between language and diction classes and a wardrobe that would accentuate her looks, her stash started depleting quicker than she had anticipated.
But the hard work seemed to have paid off as she started getting a few call backs at the auditions.
The day she booked her first job, a print ad for a western apparel brand, was the happiest of young Tara’s life so far. She sent a few pictures of the shoot to her mother and even though there was no reply, Tara knew her mother would have been happy for her.
After this success, Tara felt like her life was about to begin but the next few months proved her wrong. She kept boomeranging from one studio to another, but nothing led to anything.
It was then, in a state of growing despondency, that she had met Annie.
They met at an acting workshop - run by a casting agency, it was quite well known and occasionally even those who had gone pro, dropped in.
Annie was everything Tara was not. Oozing confidence and charisma, she had waltzed in and rest of the class had immediately known she was someone to reckon with. The owner of the agency had come running in, greeting her like an old friend. And then she had smiled so warmly all around that their hearts had thawed instantly.
But when it was her turn to go up and perform, they detected a hesitance. Tara was to cue her up; she had said her line with ease and stepped back subtly to give Annie more space.
She had nearly stumbled because of the high pitched wail that Annie let out next. It got a little better as she got the hang of the dialogue and a better grasp of the emotion, but it was safe to say that she was not a natural performer.
Tara had found out later that Annie was short for Anamika Khanna, the daughter of a prominent film family. Her roommate was certain a film was on the horizon, but Tara found that hard to believe. She had been so raw and unprepared.
Be that as it may, amidst the troubles and tribulation of her own life, she had soon forgotten about Annie.
She was on the auditions merry-go-round and it was making her dizzy. Competition was so fierce that even the smallest of speaking parts went to actors with some experience. In an already cut-throat world, social media was the new tyrant on the block, a presence or lack of, could influence casting decisions too. So in her free time, Tara tried to build that up.
The only saving grace through all of this was her theatre work. She had joined a troupe at her roommate’s behest, but got increasingly drawn in. They mounted small performances in little-known auditoriums and even worked with local governments for awareness building campaigns. Tara had yet to graduate to any of these, but she was getting there and it was satisfying to know she was on some sort of path, even though it didn’t pay well.
The days were long, and anxiety was never far away. She missed home, she even missed her parents. She missed the certainty of knowing where her life was going. Yes, it wasn’t all gloom and doom, there were a few flecks of progress – a small piece of work, a pay cheque, being noticed by someone influential – but there weren’t enough of them.
Barely afloat, she bobbed along the unstoppable current of time, and before she knew it, it was close to two years since she had first stepped foot in Bombay.
And it brought her to this point, where the bank balance on her phone screen told her she had just enough money to last a month, and no more.
One day soon after, as she sat in the waiting room of a well-known production company, the door to the corner office opened and the head honcho himself walked out. It looked like he was escorting someone important. With a start, Tara realized who it was - Annie, from a year ago.
As her roommate had predicted, a film had indeed been announced with a bunch of newcomers and Annie was one of them.
She looked every bit the debutante today, confident yet eager, gracious yet coy. Tara stared at her and was embarrassed when Annie looked her way. Tara smiled to save the moment, and to her utter shock, Annie smiled back.
She walked over to where Tara was sitting and said, “Hi, haven’t I seen you somewhere?”
“Yes, uhm, I was your partner at Chaudhary Sir’s once. I gave you your cue.”
“O-M-G yes! How bad was I? I remember it, I was so embarrassed that day.“
Not knowing what to say, she introduced herself. “I am Tara, by the way.”
“Hello Tara. Will you come walk with me?”, said Annie in response.
She gazed down at Tara, face shining with youth and beauty and the certainty of never having been refused. Tara glanced at the script in her hand where she had pitifully, it seemed even to her own self, marked out the single word that her character was to speak, and then at the crowd of hopefuls in the room, here to audition for that very anemic role. She found herself rising from her seat.
“Yeah sure. Why not”. Why, indeed, not.
It was nothing much at first. Annie was sweet and disarming. Surprisingly under-confident about her acting skills, despite her self-assured demeanour. That first day they went to a coffee shop nearby and Tara got to know the nitty gritty of Annie’s packed schedule as her film went into production. She hungrily drank in every word, a flood of emotions roiling inside of her.
Gradually the number of auditions she went to started going down, and there came a time when she hadn’t gone to a single one for a month. Tara spent all her time with Annie now, who ostensibly liked having her around and had started to confide in her about everything, from her frustrations at work to the vertiginous expectations her family had from her.
They never spoke about Tara. And Tara wanted to keep it that way, a strange embarrassment creeping up over her whenever she thought about her own tireless efforts over the last two years. The world of cinema-making was totally different from what she had thought it would be. She now had a front-row seat to how decisions on casting were made. You either had solid connections or had already proven yourself.
She had neither and she honestly had no further fire left in her.
And then one day it happened. Tara was at home, working out what she owed her roommate and wondering how it would feel to chuck it all up and return, tail between her legs, when Annie texted her.
“Hello, let’s meet today. I have something to ask you.”
Annie had something to ask on a daily basis. But this time seemed different.
They met at their latest hangout, an exclusive lounge for well-connected youth.
Tara could sense that Annie was on edge about something. And sure enough, as soon as they had settled into their overstuffed couches, Annie said,
“So I have been thinking, how would you like to work with me?”
“What..what sort of work?”
“See I am always so busy, I need someone to manage my day for me, my calendar, my appointments, my meals, things like that”, Annie counted off on her fingers.
“You want me..to be your personal secretary?”
“Arre no ya. I want you to be by my side. You are good at this stuff na. And you know my likes and dislikes also”, said Annie, at her persuasive best.
Tara was shaken and she looked it.
“See I know you don’t have a lot of money and you are thinking of returning home. This can help you stay here.”, she continued in a low voice.
Tara stared hard at Annie. So she knew her situation. She knew her helplessness, her struggle. And instead of helping her she had decided to use it.
Tara got through the lunch by promising to think about it.
And it was something to think about. It was the best offer she had gotten in her whole damn time in Bombay.
Yes, it would be unbearable at first. Helping propel Annie’s star from the sidelines. Knowing, knowing, that given half the chance, she could do better. But it would also help her stay put, keep doing theatre, be more a part of the industry than she had been till now and could ever hope to, on her own.
And maybe, she thought, half-bitterly, there was some kind of honesty in Annie not trying to sell her the dream, to not promise to introduce her around in lieu of this job. Because, very often, it didn’t work that way.
She was jolted out of her ruminations by a notification that popped up on her phone screen. It was a casting call for a deodorant advertisement, looking to hire yet another “female model with an upmarket look”.
She swiped the notification away with some force, and then started to text Annie.
“Hi Annie. If the offer’s still on, I accept.”
The response came almost immediately.
“Babe! Of course it’s still on! So so happy. We will set this city on fire!”
“Okay. Yes. We will”, said Tara. And then smiled.
Life had a way of surprising you.