PATNA BLUES

Chapter 4

FOUR

Arif sat in one of the third-row seats of the Rabindra Bhavan auditorium, his eyes searching impatiently. Just a few minutes ago, he had seen Sumitra entering the hall. Dressed in a cobalt blue sari and blouse, she had entered through the door adjacent to his seat. But he lost her in the crowd.

Did I really see her or was it a figment of my imagination? He stood up and turned back to have a clear view of the hall, trying to scan the faces.

'Sit down, brother. You're blocking our view,' someone shouted from the row behind. He instantly sat down.

The hall was jam-packed for a Hindi adaptation of Shakespeare's Hamlet.

Zakir was playing the Prince of Denmark. The show was in its eighth day and was still drawing packed houses, a rare occurrence for a theatre production in Patna. The city editions of newspapers were replete with favourable reviews.

As the curtains lifted, Arif turned his attention to the play. The ghost of the king made an appearance onstage. Machines spewed spooky smoke. And then Zakir appeared in a royal get-up, and Arif clapped enthusiastically. The man on his left looked at Arif in bemusement. Embarrassed, he stopped clapping.

After the show, Arif made his way to the make-up room. A guard tried to stop him, but when he learnt that it was Zakir's elder brother he let him into the room.

Sanjay Upadhyaya, the director of the play, a clean-shaven man in his early thirties, was congratulating Zakir. 'You are getting better with each show. This year you must try your luck with the National School of Drama. I am sure you will be selected.'

Arif was proud of how his brother had given life to the character. Zakir could be the next Dilip Kumar or Amitabh Bachchan. He imagined Zakir playing the angry young man Vijay in Zanjeer, Prince Salim in Mughal-e-Azam and Raj in Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak.

'You were stunning in your role! You will go a long way,' Arif said as he hugged his brother.

'Thank you, bhaiyya,' Zakir replied in an unenthusiastic voice.

'What is wrong? Are you okay?' Arif asked, concerned.

'Nothing to worry about, bhaiyya. I am perfectly fine. I have not slept properly for the last four days. Feeling exhausted.'

'Are you coming home with me?'

'No, bhaiyya. I have to discuss something with Sanjay sir. Anyway, the sponsors will drop me in their car.'

'Okay, Zakir. It's already nine forty-five.  I must leave now.'

As he stepped outside the auditorium, he scanned the group of people leaving the venue. And there she was!

He walked up to her. 'Namaste,' he said, his voice trembling.

'Namaste.' She did not seem surprised to see him there. Maybe she had seen him inside the hall.

'You came alone?' Arif asked her.

'Yes. There's a day-and-night cricket match today, so my husband . . .' Before she could finish her sentence, a Bajaj auto stopped in front of them with a screech. Its silencer hissed and belched out smoke. The autorickshaw had two male passengers; one of them, a middle-aged man in a kurta, was rubbing tobacco leaves on his palm with his thumb. The other was a man in his early twenties wearing a T-shirt with a high collar.

'One of you, please come and sit in the front seat,' the driver said.

The young man scrutinized Sumitra and Arif before getting down from the vehicle and squeezing himself to settle down beside the driver. Arif got in next to the middle-aged man at the back and Sumitra sat next
to him.