X: The Hunt Begins Page 22

  Virat and Aditya stared at each other in amazement. Payal had gotten up again, too excited to sit, and was still talking rapidly.

  “Khurana said Mr. Kapoor will be in Delhi at the NCR tomorrow after he attends an art exhibition one of his friends has set up. He wants us to come to the hotel Taj and have dinner with him, and discuss the details of the film.”

  “So tomorrow night we meet him at the Taj Hotel.” Excitement seemed to overcome Payal again. “I can't believe I'm going to meet Mr. Kapoor! I've seen all his films at least three times.”

  “And I could barely sit through them the first time.” Virat commented. “He always makes such syrupy sweet romance stories.”

  “Those movies make millions of dolllars across the world.” Payal informed him warmly. “Imagine getting fourteen percent of the profits from a Karan Kapoor blockbuster. Even after you take out my fee it'll still be enough money to retire on.” She amended her statement hastily. “Okay, maybe not retire on, but it'll still be a lot.”

  “Your fee?” Aditya asked.

  “As your manager.” Payal spoke as though it was obvious. “Trust me, you'll need my help to discuss royalty and consultation fees. I'll go with you to the Taj tomororow night to make sure he doesn't rip you off. Unless you two think you can handle the meeting on your own?”

  “I can make no such claim.” Aditya said. “I have zero experience talking to celebrities or film folk.”

  “Well, I do. I've met them often at the station. So tomorrow night we'll talk to Mr. Kapoor and get you an airtight movie deal.”

  * * *

  “Now, remember, don't think of me as a reporter. Tonight I'm your manager, all right?” Payal said.

  It was the night of the meeting. Aditya, Virat and Payal were on their way to the Taj. They all wore brand new clothes that Payal had bought in honor of the occasion, and had hired a private car for the ride.

  “How much percentage of the profit should we ask for as royalty?” Payal said happily. “And as your manager, I should tell you I'll get nine percent of the fee.”

  “I'd rather ask him for the phone number of the actresses he's working with at the moment.” Virat said with a grin.

  “I'll just be happy with a good dinner.” Aditya commented. “I doubt any of us will get to have a full course meal at the Taj on our own salaries. This is a chance to see how rich people eat.”

  “For god's sake, you sound like you sleep on the footpath.” Payal told him admonishingly. “Mr. Kapoor likes to make films about rich people. Try to act like you have dinners at that hotel every other week.”

  “so I guess asking him to pay for the taxi would be a bad idea?” Virat asked. Payal gave him an exasperated look. “I'm kidding. I'm kidding.”

  They reached their destination and stopped the taxi in front of the restaurant. “Let me take a look at you two.” Payal ordered. She scrutinised her two companions and nodded in satisfaction. She led the way into the restaurant, where the manager surveyed them with a raised brow.

  “We're here to see Mr. Kapoor.” Payal said importantly. “Aditya Matthews and Virat Joshi, with their manager Payal Rastogi.”

  “Right this way, miss.” The manager ushered them up a flight of stairs to a recess of the hotel, to a private area where a single party of two was seated at a table laid out for five. “Mr. Kapoor? Your guests have arrived, sir.”

  Karan Kapoor rose to his feet with a beaming smile. He was a very tall and slight man. Dressed in a faultless, dark green suit of the latest fashion, he managed to look conservative yet bohemian at the same time. Impossibly white teeth glittered in the subdued light as his eyes roved over the three. “Welcome! Welcome! So glad you were able to come.”

  “It is so good to meet you, Mr. Kapoor.” Payal said, her voice slightly breathless. “Thank you for inviting us. These are my clients, Detective Virat Joshi and criminal psychologist Adtiya Matthews.”

  “The famous sleuths!” Mr. Kapoor exclaimed, shaking Virat's hand warmly. “I am such a big fan of your work. The Selfie killer case, now. The way you laid the trap for the killer. That was really out of this world!”

  “Thank you, sir.” Virat smiled a slightly embarrased smile. “I had a lot of help.

  “And officer Matthews, too!” He sized Aditya's hand with equal warmth. “I am so glad to have the chance to meet you.”

  “Thanks for inviting us.” Aditya said.

  “This is my assistant, Sumit.” Mr. Kapoor gestured towards the man sitting next to him.

  Sumit Khurana was a young man with a hooked nose and a sallow complexion. He nodded briefly to the three, and immediately turned to Mr. Kapoor. “Are you sure the air conditioning's not too high, KK? I could ask the manager to turn it down.”

  “No, no, I'm fine.” Mr. Kapoor said, gesturing the other three towards their chairs. “I like it cold.”

  He addressed Aditya again. “I was fascinated with your work in the Rohtak case. I have a friend in the Delhi police force. He told me about the drug smuggling ring you exposed recently. What I wasn't prepared for was that you'd be so young! It'll be easy to get one of the younger heroes to play your likeness. You obviously excersize. If only you weren't so short, and didn't have to wear those glasses. They make you look teribly old.”

  “We can't all be perfect like movie stars.” Aditya remarked with a smile.

  “Yes, yes, that's true. But it messes up the aesthetic. You have this image of heroic figures being all tall and manly and keen eyed. But no worry, we can fix that during filming. I mainly produce films under my banner these days, but I might even direct your movie myself, if I can still remember how to work the camera!” He chuckled heartily at his own joke while Aditya smiled politely.

  “You're one of the greatest directors in Bollywood, KK.” Sumit said fervently. “That's why everyone calls you The Great Showman.”

  “Not everyone.” Mr. Kapoor deflected the praise with a modest smile. “It was just one or two magazines after my fifth straight hit.” His eyes brightened as he saw the waiters arriving with their food. “Ah, excellent!” He turned to the other three. “I took the iberty of ordering dinner for everyone. I hope you all enjoy it.”

  “But those magazines were right.” Sumit persisted, leaning to the side to look at Mr. Kapoor around the arm of the waiter putting a roast chicken in front of him. “I've always said that you're the one who's going to take over Raj Kapoor's mantle someday.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps.” Mr. Kapoor said, raising a hand. “But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We need to concentrate on the business on hand.” He turned to the other three as he picked up a knife and fork. “As you all no doubt know, I'm starting a new production house that's committed to bringing more gritty and realistic story telling to our cinemas.” Mr. Kapoor seemed to take for granted that everyone was intimately familiar with his life and his work. “And one of the projects I want to begin with is a movie about one of your cases.”

  “We're so excited about it.” Payal spoke with difficulty as she tried to gulp down her food and reply at the same time. Aditya and Virat nodded as well to convey their excitement, but they were more interested in the feast spread out before them. Mr. Kapoor had ordered a generous course.

  “So, it could be some time before I can make the film about you two.” Mr. Kapoor said over the clatter of knives and spoons. “There's another movie I'll be making first that I've been turning over in my head for some time now. In fact, I just finished writing out the screenplay a few days ago.”

  “I'd love to hear it.” Sumit jumped in eagerly. “The best part of being your PA is that I get to see your whole creative process unfold. I've already learned so much from you!”

  “Sumit wants to become a director himself one day.” Mr. Kapoor informed the other three with a tolerant smile. “I told him he has potential. If he keeps his wits about him and absorbs everything I've tried to teach him. But I'm sure you won't be interested in hearing the story right now...”

  “Why not?” Su
mit demanded. “We'd all love to hear it.” He spoke without looking at the other three, his entire attention fixed on his employer. Payal on her part made a polite noise and murmured her own desire to listen to Mr. Kapoor's story.

  “Well, we have to get to the airport soon.” He said with a sigh and a slight nod of aquiscense. “But I suppose there is enough time for a brief narration. Later. For now let's focus on our excellent meal.”

  Virat and Aditya were more than happy to oblige him. For the next few minutes there was silence at the table as the party busied themselves with their plates. Naan, panner and chicken legs disappered quickly.

  “Now then.” Mr. Kapoor declared once the dinner was over and the dishes cleared away. He rose to his considerable height, towering over the table. The low lighting cast his figure in darkness, and his eyes took on a mysterious quality as they travelled gravely from one guest to the other. For a moment he almost looked like a strange sorcerer from another time. Aditya wondered if the lighting had been adjusted specially to achieve the effect. It would have appealed to Mr. Kapoor's acute sense of the dramatic. “After that most excellent repast, let us move on to the entertainment portion of the night. By popular demand, I present to you the early draft of my next film.” Here he paused as Sumit gave his announcement a quick round of applause, beaming with sycophantic adoration. Payal had to make an effort not to roll her eyes, but Mr. Kapoor accepted the premature tribute with a gracious nod.

  “Tonight we shall have another feast of a different nature.” He resumed, rubbing his hands together as he stared at the company. “A feast of emotions, that is. What we are going to talk about tonight, is passion! Frustrated ambition! Regret! All those emotions I tried to avoid in my earlier films. The gloves are coming off this time, my friends!”

  “But.” He held up a manicured finger warningly. “This is not going to be a happy story. I know that's what the audince expects from a Karan Kapoor production. But this is going to be a tragedy, along the lines of Mughal E Azam, Kagaz Ke Phool and Devdas. A modern shakespearean melodrama, if you will. The name of the story is...” He paused for a long, dramatic moment. “The Kiss of Death!” He stared impressively around the table. There was a slightly blank silence as the guests stared back at him.

  “That's a great title, KK.” Sumit burst out eagerly. “Really sets the audience up with it's dark theme and gets them excited and curious about the story.”

  “Thanks, that's what I was going for.” Mr. Kapoor spread his arms wide and looked at his guests. “Imagine, if you please, a young girl called Jasmine. Beautiful. Innocent. Surrounded by a loving family. An Indian girl born in a foreign land. She grew up watching bollywood films, and dreamt of one day becoming a heroine there. Life was not easy for Jasmine. She had a chronically weak heart, so that any prolonged activty exhausted her. But still she pushed herself to learn several types of indian classical dances. She imitated her favourite heroines. She dreamt of working with her favourite actors. Her girlhood was spent in rosy dreams of the nature. Then came the day when she became of age. Her parents knew of her dreams, and allowed their dear daughter leave to follow her heart's desire. So it came that one day she steeled her heart and made her way to Mumbai to fulfill what she felt was her destiny. One more foreign girl among the thousands who come to the city every year to try their luck in cinema.”

  Payal kicked Virat under the table and looked meaningfully at him and Aditya. Everyone at the table had a strong suspicion as to who the inspiration behind the character of Jasmine was. Mr. Kapoor's second well publicised marriage had been to a foreign item girl named Nathasha Shayk, a half indian Russian model who was twenty years his junior. Their marriage had been a stormy one, ending in a messy and extremely public divorce.

  “Now this poor girl had no one to lean on in Mumbai.” Mr. Kapoor continued in a stirring tone, seemingly unconscious of the knowing glances being exchanged among his guests. “The rosy dreams she'd had of being discovered on arrival ended quickly. She found that, because she had been born outside India in the west, she was considered loose and without morals. Men tried to take advantage of her. Women called her a slut because of the clothes she wore. And everywhere she went she was subjected to a critical scrutiny. She travelled all over Mumbai everyday searching for work. Her heart condition worsened, and she grew weaker, and still she slogged through the day. Assembling a portfolio. Meeting agents. Taking the local train from Dahisar to studio offices. Beating a weary path on the streets of Mumbai next to hundreds of other girls just like her.”

  “Along the way, she managed to find some people who were good to her. Lowly members of film production who were kind and generous with what little they had. They helped her find a place to stay, and coached her to improve her hindi diction. But susbstantial work continued to elude her. She was considered too alien to get mainstream roles. She had to be content with two bit side roles and the occasional modelling job.”

  “Mr. Kapoor.” Payal suddenly interjected. She leaned forward with a diffident air. “I'm very sorry to interrupt. It's a fascinating story, but you said you have to get to the airport, and I was wondering if we could talk a bit more about the movie rights to my clients cases before...” Sumit was staring at Payal in incredulous horror, as though she had pointed a gun at the director.

  “In a minute.” A frown appeared on Mr. Kapoor's brow as he held up a hand. “Please don't interrupt me right now. It spoils the atmosphere I'm trying to create with the story.”

  “This is a very important part of the creative process.” Sumit informed Payal coldly. “We can't rush it. We'll get to your film later.”

  Payal leaned back, looking abashed. Mr. Kapoor closed his eyes. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. So Jasmine struggled for several months in Mumbai withouth coming any closer to her dream of becoming an actress. She began to feel tired. Jaded from the futility of her day to day life. Then one day she was attending a party thrown by a casting director. He needed pretty girls to fill the party list and lend some color to the scene. At the party the girl was noticed by a producer. One of the biggest producers in Bollywood in fact.” Payal kicked Virat even more violoently under the table. “The next day the girl got an invitation to watch a Super League match with the producer. The girl was suspicious of the producer's intentions at first. But he behaved like a perfect gentleman, taking her out on dates and serenading her. He made her feel safe and protected in a way she hadn't felt since arriving in Mumbai. Suddenly she was living the rose tinted dream right out of her favorite bollywood romances. Before she knew it, they were engaged and then married.”

  “With the change in her station in life, life took a drastic turn for Jasmine. The producer decided to cast her in one of his movies, and the girl was ecstatic. Finally, she was getting the work she craved. She saw herself in the near future as one of the top heroines in the industry. Everything she had ever dreamed of was finally within her grasp.”

  “But fate had something else in store. On the sets of the movie she met a man called Ajay Kapoor. Tall, fair and handsome. The hero of the film and a darling of the masses. They were doing a love story, and everyday, underneath the lines of endearnment they spoke to each other in front of the camera, she was conscious of something deeper. She found herself falling head over heels in love with Ajay. It made her feel guilty, but she couldn't help herself. All she could do was restrain herself from acting on her emotions, by constantly reminding herself that she was a married woman.”

  “But even while Jasmine resisted her tempations, she was horrified to find the rumors had already started to swirl around her relationship with Ajay. Gossip magazines were filled with speculations about her love life. Newspapers carried her photographs, but instead of talking about the film, they talked about her western upbringing, hinting at her loose character and philandering ways.”

  “The biggest betrayal came from her husband. She told him she was innocent. She told him she had been faithful to him. But the seed of doubt, once planted, is impossible to u
proot. There was just no way to know for sure. Every newspaper, every entertainment channel carried the same gossip disguised as fact. People were tweeting about it and posting jokes on facebook. Finally, the combined assault changed the doubt to a certainty. And then the axe fell. No amount of pleading or entreaties could sway him. He refused to believe she was not having an affair with Ajay. He removed her from the movie he was producing, and demanded that they separate at once.”