6
‘Did you already know last evening?’
‘Not when I met you, no.’
‘Ah, the PM told you.’
‘Did you just see that in my head? I didn’t even know I was thinking about him.’
‘He saw you at one o’clock. I had the honour of a personal visit at 12.15.’
‘Jaya, you’re so the right person for this show. Plus I feel incredibly exposed right now.’
Ravi Tarun has just made me an offer: my own YouTube web series! He watched yesterday’s news clip and thinks I’m a ‘natural’. You’ll have guessed that he also knows about my Shakti.
‘Everything can be free-form, Jaya. I spent an hour last night reading your old columns and, in a word, Wow! We want to bring exactly that to life, put faces and voices to those stories.’
‘Virtually all of them want to remain anonymous. Didn’t you notice that?’
Ravi smiles. ‘So did you, “Chandra Sir”. But circumstances change, right? You’ll draw a new crowd of people who want to tell their stories to camera. Let’s go for them. I also checked out Twitter. Incredible! You already have the people’s love! We want the whole country to discover you.’
The step-dad who couldn’t hold back his tears for Shivani just hours ago is so bouncy and can-do this morning. I ask him: ‘Who’s “we”, Ravi? You keep saying “we”.’
‘The producers, of course. It’s probably not that well known, but I am a co-founder of a small web-based production company. We already have quite a bit of content online. I’ll send you some links. There’s probably stuff you’ve seen without knowing it was by us.’
‘Is the PM part of your “we”?’ I concentrate on his face as I say this.
Ravi laughs. ‘Yes, Jaya, and Spielberg too. You’ll be working solely with him.’ Then he adds, ‘No, you’re confusing two different things — the ones higher up who gave you this Shakti, and the shameless ones like me who want to monetise it.’
‘He called it Shakti too.’
‘Look, think about it and name your fee, and I’ll tell you what we can offer. And I should also say that I picture different episodes around the country, so there’ll be quite a lot of travel. But you’d want that, right? You’d want to reach young people wherever they are.
‘Did you know, Jaya, I started out as a university lecturer, and that was once my career dream come true. Within a year, I realised four-hour faculty meetings weren’t for me. It isn’t just your possession of a Shakti that has brought me to you, or this unbelievable Twitter outpouring. First of all, it’s the integrity behind it, the years of selfless reaching-out at great personal risk. You could have lost everything — your livelihood, your reputation …’
This guy is something else, I manage to think, even as I picture his books in the next room, right beside my bed. I’m full of mistrust, just as Shivani probably was; yet, although nothing’s making sense, I still want to ride him. Thank you, Tamal, for coming along last night. Without that to keep me going, and the awareness of Bandanadi and Raja arriving at any moment …
Why did I dream of him handing me a child?
‘… but what clinched it for me was watching you on TV, and how it was every bit as impressive as reading your columns. And it wasn’t just what you said or your masterful self-possession, but the secret behind it that only a few like me know, which is your Shakti. The fact that within a couple of hours of being granted these gifts you had the confidence to strike out and make this huge decision, whilst giving the finger to the fuckers who’d forced you to hide the deepest things about yourself. I need to tell you, Jaya, that’s what I reminded Karishma of this morning when I shared your secret with her, and replayed the news clip as well. And you’ll be pleased to know she has no anger against you …’
Karishma, that’s right. He’s involved with a woman who has recently lost a daughter whose ‘spirit’ incidentally might be hovering over us right now. Just in case I need any other reasons, besides the fact that he’s moved in the space of fifteen minutes from being someone I enormously admired to someone trying to buy me!
How was it this guy that handed me a child?
‘I’m sorry, Ravi, I cannot say yes to anything unless you tell me more. Otherwise I’d only be signing up to a new FMHS, new masters about whom I have grave doubts.’
His face changes. He sits back, places his palms behind his head, stretches out his legs. I feel as though he is resetting the rhythm of this conversation.
‘What if I were to tell you the Shakti would be gone if you didn’t agree to this?’
‘Well, that would answer most of my questions. That you are working for the Prime Minister’s party, or some such entity, and I’m not confusing issues.’
‘On the other hand, I should add that whatever you’ve experienced with the Shakti over the past twenty-four hours — and I confess I’m foggy on the details — is but the tip of the proverbial. Walking away now would be like leaving a theatre after watching a few trailers.’ He leans forward. ‘And this is no movie, Jaya. Every bit of magic is absolutely real.’
He sits back again as though he has me on a string. ‘Jaya, I love history and I know you do too. You’ve been reading minds, I believe? You’re probably looking into mine right now. Fine, go ahead. But what if I were to promise that this gift is designed to discover and fulfil your deepest yearnings the longer it stays with you, the longer you let it stay with you? Which would include not just the contents of my mind, or anyone else’s you come across, or even delving into your own past, but going well beyond the limits of your individual life! Because I suspect that’s what you crave, Jaya, as do I. You crave to understand a lot more than your own story. That’s why you studied history — right? — and obviously why you did the column. Well, what if you have the opportunity in the very near future to begin to glimpse how histories are made, to go far beyond the bounds of your own experiences and your own mind to really see how much more flows and connects together? And to be part of it all, by which I mean to help shape the history that is to come.
‘That’s what we’re all being promised, Jaya, a chance to converge our own deepest needs with a collective transformation of our country. I’d be so sorry if you spurned the chance.’
There is no leash around my neck, I remind myself. ‘Did you know about Shivani’s gift?’ I’m looking within him as I speak, but all I can see is my own face. Not once does he flick back to Shivani.
Yet his expression does change, in exact step with the words he selects. It occurs to me that if I were to have a media career, this is the master to learn from.
‘No, not until it was too late. You were the one who gave us confirmation with your account of meeting her, and through the emails you shared. I was still in Delhi preparing for everything that was about to be launched here in Bengal, and Karishma, who wasn’t home that afternoon, didn’t believe Pari either. She thought the two fifteen-year-olds were pulling a prank on Jharna, Pari’s mother. I should add, at that point Karishma knew nothing of these coming events. And, in any case, the Shakti seeks out who it wants to enter, who yearns for it the most and can achieve the most with it. But if only Karishma had thought to mention this particular ‘prank’ of Shivani’s, I’d have made the connection. I’d have rushed over from Delhi to assure Shivani that I believed her, and to guide her use of her powers.’
Now he produces tears, although it’s my face that has been fixed in his mind like a screensaver. I suddenly understand this bastard is toying with me. My skin crawls at the thought of him handling any child of mine, and I resolve it will never come to pass.
Because, bullshit tears aside, this could be Shivani’s killer, and her tempter before that! This could be Arati’s demon, hiding behind (of course) an immaculate demon voice. This might be the PM’s lieutenant who has already ordered two murder attempts on me (one of them by a dear friend he similarly held to ransom), which he has completely glossed over.
Shivani was an early clinical trial! Shivani was an irritant for hating his relationship with her mother. Shivani was the problem Ravi solved with a ‘gift’, knowing the Shakti itself would send her over the edge.
Shivani, if you’re near us right now, is there something you want to share about your father’s death? When did your suspicion of Ravi’s true nature begin?
And yet, this could also be my stupidity, to be — again — looking for one master villain to pin everything on, whether it’s Ravi or even (my vision of) the Prime Minister. In fact I don’t know the first thing about the scale of this, or how it’s happening at all.
Once again, Jaya, be clear with yourself. What is your utmost priority? How much do you truly want to learn? And where can you make the most difference: in or out?
Alive or dead?
I make an effort to sound unimpressed. Ravi in the meantime has turned off the tears. ‘So the YouTube series is my price? I find that difficult to believe, given what I know about the things others have paid. It would be implausibly generous of your masters. What’s really waiting for me, Ravi, besides a puppet’s-eye view of this macabre puppet show?’
He grins, looking, despite his beard, like a mischievous boy whose trick has worked. I consciously focus on the coffee table while he speaks.
‘Aha, already into the terms and conditions, are we? Well, that’s progress. So, each episode can be as free-form as you like, as I’ve promised, and on any theme that affects our youth, except …’
I jump back into his head to take him by surprise. What awaits me is a still shot of my chest! So much for his legendary respect for women.
‘… Are you listening, Jaya? Only occasionally will we have a few ideas of our own to insert. Material in keeping with the spirit of your show, because otherwise it wouldn’t work at all; but, for example, instead of you picking that week’s protagonist, we’ll gift you him or her.’
‘And what strings would such “gifts” trail?’
He ignores my question; instead, with lofty confidence, confirms that he knew about Arati. ‘Let’s take your friend on TV just a while ago who’s been visited by a goddess. It has been happening, right? You’ve witnessed it. Well, now that you know such things can occur, couldn’t we unearth some incredible stories by putting out a call for people nationwide who want to share their own divine experiences? Ordinary people, of all ages, who haven’t been believed thus far; who’ve been rejected, scorned, so they’ve kept their extraordinary truths concealed. People exactly of the kind who write to you, except English won’t be a barrier.
‘Think about how many episodes of pure gold that would be in a country as vast as ours. Think about the emotions, the relatability, the unbelievable depths you could probe! Think about the snowball effect, Jaya, what thousands of viewers will feel emboldened to share. It would be new ground for you, I admit, religion and spirituality. But all along, because you have witnessed such wonders yourself, and also because your own Shakti will be with you, no one will know like you can which ones are our true prophets. My hands are shaking just from the excitement of describing it!’
I get up and walk to the kitchen, pretending to need something from the fridge. He calls after me not to worry about food, since he won’t be staying long.
I saw the PM in this guy’s head last night, yet today he’s flaunting his teasing of me! I simply can’t get past these ridiculous images he throws up. He must have the same invulnerability shield as his master, to be switched on whenever needed, which would imply a pretty high pay grade. And, in turn, would point to another astonishing insight — that Ravi Tarun has long been opaque to me. I’ve watched him on TV for years, read at least three of his books and dozens of articles; until tonight, I would have never suspected his true loyalties.
‘This is a nice place, Jaya. Do you live alone?’
My turn to ignore the question.
‘Okay, all business, huh? Why not? But do you see what I mean about limitless potential? We want this country to re-imagine what it can be by discovering what its people, the often-ignored majority of its people, truly carry within them. Especially but not only the young, and without any barriers of language or class.’
He gives me a moment to burst into applause, or tears, but when neither is forthcoming he looks puzzled.
‘What did you think about the idea to empower girls and women first — I mean, with the Shakti?’
‘Well, I can believe that was all you.’ Which puts a smug smile straight back on his face.
‘One doesn’t want to hog all the credit. Let’s say my suggestion had a very powerful, and immediate, champion in the Prime Minister.’
‘Well, speaking as a newly empowered woman, Ravi, you can pass on from me to him, and to the Shakti Monitoring Committee if there is one, that I’m still finding it a bit of a riddle. On the one hand, there is the Shakti itself, for which of course I remain grateful, and an audience I might or might not have had with the PM. On the other, you know all too well one “empowered” girl who jumped to her death, while I myself have survived two murder attempts by empowered women dispatched to kill me, one of them a dear friend. And finally, I find that I’m taking orders from men who are immune to my power and can neutralise it whenever they like. In fact, not sure whether you’d be aware of procedural details like this, but if I choose to reject your offer just now, a body will probably reappear on the floor of my bedroom of another “empowered” woman who was only trying to pay her “price”, and I’ll be left with explaining why she is in my house, and how come I haven’t reported her murder in what’s coming up to twelve hours. Don’t worry, she isn’t here. No need to inch away, and just FYI, I didn’t do it, although I’m still not sure who did. I’m merely pointing out another reason why I might need a little more time to report back on my still intermittent sense of empowerment.’
A slightly paler Ravi not especially suavely changes the subject. ‘Sometimes your editorial team will suggest themes. For example, we’re planning a strand within the first season on the so-called phenomenon of “love-jihad”, which can also expand to take in other kinds of inter-community relationships, and you must admit that’s already a recurrent topic in your column.’
‘Wow, you’re the last person I expected would seriously use that term. How recently did you discover your inner enraged Hindu?’
‘I said “so-called”, Jaya. If enough people are using a name for something, we have to respect that it acquires a certain reality. But who better than you to present the many sides of the question — the rights and wrongs, the various stresses and strains, the happy endings as well as the inevitable tragedies, whether there is any abuse occurring of such freedoms …’
‘Do you believe there is? That there are wrongs to inter-community relationships?’
‘I would say investigate the stories we find for you, and draw your own conclusions. Don’t forget, your Shakti will be with you. You will see the truth within everyone you meet. There won’t be another presenter with your perspective.’
‘Oh, come off it, Ravi. There’ll be thousands with my perspective. Have a little bit of respect for my intelligence. At least tell me how many of us “history-makers” you guys are unleashing on the country — or is it just Bengal you have in your sights for now, because we happen to have a different government? Each of us really should know, in case our heads butt by accident; trust me, it’s already happened twice with me. And nobody wants ten superheroes rushing to the same rescue.’
I make him grin again.
‘Superheroes, huh? I love it. What do you think of that as a title? I can already see the hashtags. Okay, okay, you won’t be the only one. But your series will be amazing.’
‘No, it won’t, because above all I won’t know what to believe. All of us with these so-called Shaktis will see what we wish to see, distort reality with our powers. And make judgements and deliver our own “justice” based on whatever we decide to believe. The more of us there are, the more warped and toxic reality will become. You’re talking about a nation of murderous fantasists, Ravi, each trapped by their bloodied hands as much as their wishful thinking, while your masters harvest this chaos to hijack our country.’
While I’ve been speaking, Ravi has picked up a remote from the table and been trying to switch on the TV. He says, ‘Will you please help me? I’m rubbish with these things.’
I angrily turn on the set-top box with the other remote. Ravi asks for Channel 17. Persistent, arrogant, ruthless Jogomaya (who would be a perfect fit, it strikes me, for Ravi’s company) is still barking at the camera from Arati’s house. I’m about to put it on mute and say something sharp when I see that she is now inside Arati’s front room. The interview had been in the front garden, but now it’s just Jogomaya reporting from indoors. This is something different. In fact, Arati’s absence is Jogomaya’s breathless news.
‘Turn it up,’ orders Ravi. I obey because I’m so surprised. I know where Arati is, but what is Jogomaya doing in her house? Has there been violence?
‘In an amazing development, right under our very eyes, Mrs Arati Bhandari has truly vanished! Her house, you’ve now seen, consists of these two rooms. There is a bathroom with its door open at the back, but no second gate anywhere else, as we’ve already shown you. Basically, after her interview, she escorted her mother to safety in one of our cars, which you all saw live. Then she returned inside, asking for some privacy. While the interview was being prepared for broadcast, I waited patiently outside the front door to ask a few more questions. When I knocked after fifteen minutes, I realised the door wasn’t bolted. But Arati Bhandari is nowhere. An hour has passed, it’s coming up to noon, and she has disappeared into thin air! How can this be? Why would a woman brave enough to make such a serious charge against a powerful, well-connected politician choose thereafter to disappear? No, ladies and gentlemen, something is very wrong. Her enemies have acted swiftly would be my first inference, and because we’re not local and they are, because we don’t know the ins and outs of this area, somehow they have managed to spirit her away from right under our noses. Even as I’m speaking to you from inside the home she built painstakingly with her mother and sister, I’m growing cold at the thought of the danger Arati Bhandari might be in …’
I’m so transfixed I don’t notice Ravi coming over and muting the sound.
‘A serial rapist is about to be nailed. Does it still seem like a big fantasy? Everything is going to happen, Jaya. Are you in or are you out?’