Three Stories by Sureshkumara Indrajit

The Actress and Her Book

There was a rumour among the assistant directors that actress Dhanya was a reader of a Latin American writer called Carlos Fuentes. Some assistant directors were in awe. Others, like me, searched for books by Carlos Fuentes. I found the book The Death of Artemio Cruz. I struggled to read it.

            Mohan, an assistant director, hastily mentioned to the director that actress Dhanya was reading Carlos Fuentes. The director scolded him, “What’s the fucking use of reading when she can’t act? Get back to your work.”

            I learnt that the book the actress was reading was called The Buried Mirror.

            “Nerd! Look at her sitting cross-legged, all self-important!” said Mohan.

            I, too, thought she was a nerd. But why did the director say that she could not act? Then I realized that what actress Dhanya considered acting was completely different from the director’s idea of acting.

            A scene was shot. The director was restless. Several takes rolled by. At one point, he asked us to pack up.

            The director was convinced that her reading habit was the reason she could not act. He ordered me to take the book away and lose it.

            I waited for an opportunity. When the actress went to the toilet, I took the half-read book lying on the chair and hid it in my bag.

            The actress searched for the lost book. She shouted. She did not know Tamil and I did not understand the rapid English words she used. She complained to the director. He, too, pretended to look around and said in English, “I don’t know. Are you sure you left it here?” The actress became sad.

            Would losing a book result in a search of our belongings? I was afraid I would be caught red-handed. I took that book without anyone’s knowledge and threw it out of the window.

            The director cancelled the rest of the day’s shooting. The next day, the actress brought to the shooting spot the book When the Air is Clear by Carlos Fuentes.

            The director sacked the actress who could not act. Because of her, we had learnt the name of a Mexican writer. The director booked a Hindi actress who did not read books. He said that the new actress acted well, and that she did not read books.

            Actress Dhanya acted in a Hollywood movie that became a box-office success. Mohan said, “She belongs in Hollywood movies. Our director booked her, tempted by her body and colour.”

            We, the assistant directors, said that she would be reading Carlos Fuentes in Hollywood during her shooting breaks.

Husband, Wife, Girlfriend

Jaisankar felt as if everything ended up in failure. He could not find a job he liked. All his friends were useless. They were just people to talk random topics with, not people who evoked interest or happiness. In his family, too, all the relatives were imbeciles.

            He found a girlfriend. She was old-fashioned with archaic beliefs. She was conservative, a believer in rituals. But she wore a different face for the outside world. He learnt that this face related to her taste. She, from a vegetarian family, ate meat and loved drinking brandy. This gave her an image that he liked. Desire for her waned because he realised this. He did not break off his relationship with her. They lost touch over time. 

            He found another girlfriend, a music enthusiast. Jaisankar, though knowledgeable about ragas, would occasionally get confused. He would not be able to recollect even a well-known raga’s name. But his girlfriend was an expert in finding ragas. She knew all the musical intricacies. But she was abysmally ignorant in worldly affairs. She had no opinion on anything. She knew nothing about what happened in the country, in the world. Music apart she stayed outdated in all other matters. He would feel embarrassed whenever her outdated knowledge made an appearance. He would find it intolerable. He did not talk about any topic other than music. If he did, he would get angry with her. Is it possible to have conversations on just one topic? His interaction with her whittled down to getting clarification on music and ragas.

            After this, he did not have any girlfriends at all. But his wedding took place. The wife was not like a girlfriend. The wife carried out what she thought were wifely duties. She would make note of,  and pray to God on pradhosham, sashti, sankatahara chaturthi, and other auspicious days. She would fast. He understood that there was no meaningful connection between the words girlfriend and wife. He became enlightened that what a wife needed was a husband, not a friend.

            He also gained wisdom that it was impossible in life to get a girlfriend who met his expectations.

Fish curry

Vidya was exhausted. The ceremonies were all completed on the third day of her husband’s death. Today was the feast with meat delicacies. A trick for the scene to change. The visiting relatives were still around. She had a son and a daughter.

            After the feast, the relatives began to leave. The families of her son and daughter stayed back. When the elders asked where Vidya would like to live, she replied that she would live in the same house for some time. A few older women relatives said that staying in the house filled with her husband’s memories would do her good.

            Vidya thought she would not be comfortable living in her children’s homes. She could be free in her home. She could cook what she wanted. She could go to the temple. She could go to the movies. She could watch TV serials. Vidya thought she would not be able to do any of these as she wished in her children’s homes.

            Vidya’s husband had been sick. She knew that his death was imminently close. He died as she watched helplessly, not knowing how to help when he struggled to breathe. Later, when the doctor was summoned, he informed her that her husband had already passed away.

            As the news spread, family and others started gathering. Vidya had to cry every time someone arrived. Had she not cried, they would have berated her for her stone-hearted behaviour. It was annoying to cry this way. Sometimes, she had to cry even when the tears refused to come. When important relatives arrived, she cried louder. Her throat became sore. She asked one of the relatives to bring her Strepsils.

            Vidya and her husband were affectionate and kind to each other. Every life must come to an end. In fact, Vidya had mourned how solitary her life would be if her husband were to die. She was embarrassed to be a widow.

            Ceremonies establishing her widowhood also took place. The TV serials remained switched off for four days. Several loads of clothes remained unwashed. Only today the food served was delicious.

            Sitting next to Vidya, her daughter soothed her. Her son, with a tonsured head, was preparing to leave. That night, he would travel by car to the city where he worked, followed by her daughter, who would leave for her home.

            The next morning, Vidya’s daughter hugged her, crying inconsolably. Vidya, too, cried. Her son had already left. Now, her daughter had also left. The house was bereft of people. Vidya experienced a solitude that she had never felt until that day.

            While her son was still at her house, Vidya had gotten a photograph of her husband framed from a shop. She had hung it in the hall. Vidya looked at it for a moment. In the past forty years she had lived with him, she had seen several good and bad in her life.

            She looked at the spot where he used to read newspaper, his bed, and the other areas he inhabited. She sat on the chair, looking around the deserted house.

            She needed to cook lunch for herself. She locked the house. She went to the fishmonger. She bought fish. Then, at the snacks store, she bought omapodi and pakoda.

            She let herself into the house. She switched on the TV. She changed the channel to a TV serial and sat there watching it.

            She wanted to make delicious and fragrant fish curry for lunch.