#21Days

Plasma Therapy

"Cut!" The director screamed into his microphone. The jarring sound caused the few standing near him to turn their heads the other way, but the director didn't bother.

"Sonakshi madam, a little more emotion." I looked at him, my eyes burning with the excessive amounts of glycerine they held and wondered, what was this man talking about? The scene was already overflowing with emotion. My husband was a doctor, but I had never seen any patient of his emote so vehemently in the hospital. 

I looked at the director with a blank face, wondering how I should ask him about it. I didn't have to ask. It was as if he'd read my mind.

"Madam, the dialogue. There is no punch. When you finish the dialogue the doctor should be moved to the extent that he falls at your feet and begs forgiveness."

I nodded my head. All that glycerine and crying was giving me a headache. I had already downed two aspirins and probably would need four more by the time the director would have the required coverage. 

Every time the TRP's dipped, the channel decided to subject either Parvati or Kunal to a near-death experience. This time it was Kunal's turn. He'd suffered injuries while flying to Australia in his private jet. And was back in a hospital in Mumbai undergoing emergency surgery. Of course, we all knew he would eventually survive this surgery, but that would be two weeks later. For the next two weeks, Sumit Khanna was on vacation and so the track would drag till he came back to shoot his next scenes.

My make-up girl came and touched up my foundation and rouge, much of which had become blotchy due to the incessant fake tears. I looked at myself one last time in the mirror and my make-up girl quickly picked up the touch-up kit and scurried across the floor to avoid being caught on camera.

The director picked up his microphone once again and screamed.

"Okay crew, positions, one more take, roll camera and action."

The clap boy did his bit. And on came the gentle buzz sound that belonged to the camera reel.

I started on my dialogues once again.

"You might be a doctor but you're not God. You have no right to tell me my husband is no more." 

It was the doctor's turn.

"But Parvati ji, he's suffered severe injuries. I don't think he can survive." The doctor looked desolate. He was doing a very good job.

My turn. "Who're you to tell me he won't survive? He has the blessings of Mata Rani. Before he left for his meeting I tied a raksha dhaaga on his hand. Mata Rani will definitely take care of him."

For someone who didn't believe in religion or God, it took everything to keep me from rolling my eyes while saying.

I could see the actor who played the doctor desperately try and stifle a laugh. "Then go and pray to Mata Rani. Because only she can save your husband and your sindoor."

Suddenly the nurse appears. "Doctor please come quickly. The patients' oxygen level is dropping. He is unable to breathe." We all knew who the patient was.

The doctor and the nurse rushed to Kunal with me in tow. Kunal had an oxygen mask on his face and was moving his head from side to side. The doctor walked up to him, the nurse stood right behind him with a clipboard. The doctor gazed across the myriad of instruments that had their wires attached to Kunal's body.

He then turned to me and said, "I'm sorry Parvati Ji. We've lost him."

We had shot till here, repeatedly. Beyond this, the director felt that Parvati screaming and crying wasn't working because ultimately Kunal needed to come back alive, from the dead, again, like Felix the Cat. Felix had nine lives, but Parvati and Kunal, courtesy of Indian television were blessed with unlimited lives.