19^th September 2012:

The Director in Demand - Navin Bellad, best known for his two latest back-to-back hit films, finally announces ‘Pack Up’ at the advertisement shoot and climbs into his Innova to keep an appointment with his friend Devu. Navin senses that his phone is vibrating and immediately unlocks the mobile screen.

Message from Devu: I’m at JK Palace!

His fingers dance on the touch keyboard as he swiftly replies: ‘Reaching in 10 Minutes’. ‘Devu has always been punctual, be it for the dreadful school-assembly, exciting birthday functions or a professional meeting. He values time and plans his work quite well’, Navin muses to himself. He parks his car skillfully in the huge packed parking lot, before handing over the keys and 100 bucks to the attendant. He takes out a Marlboro from his pocket, and lights it up in his true style, drawing in a deep breath of the powerful smoke.

He glances up to catch sight of Devu, who has a broad grin plastered onto his face.

The friends exchange tight handshakes and hugs and proceed to the dining section.

The waiter greets and escorts the two inside the restaurant. This restaurant is their favourite rendezvous point.

‘‘Ah, Now are you going to weed out another story from me?’’, jokes Devu and both have a casual laugh and get seated.

Devu happens to be a very good story-teller. He had shared two story concepts previously with Navin, who had translated them into such fine cinemas that the entire country had sat up and noticed, thereby turning Navin into a successful director.

Navin doesn’t like to be disturbed and switches off his phone. He extinguishes the expensive cigarette in the equally expensive mahogany ash tray that the waiter has dutifully placed before them. The waiter enquires if they are okay with chilled water.

‘‘How are things at home, Devu?’’

‘Pretty decent. How is life as a successful director?’

‘‘Two back to back hit movies have literally changed my life, but it has put a huge responsibility on me as well. I sure need to work harder if I hope to have a chance to satisfy my always-hungry-for-more audience!”

‘‘Yes, that’s quite obvious.”

‘‘And I have realized that a good story is the key to touch the lives of people. I would not have reached this stage without the two stories that you narrated to me. I owe you a lot.”

“It is all Karma. Destiny. Maktub. Call it whatever you wish to. The fact remains; it was my duty to do this for you, a small role I have been assigned to play in the divine scheme of things!” Devu remarked.

‘‘Maktub?’’

‘Yup. It roughly translates to, ‘It is written’, he smiled.

‘‘A Divine call, is it?’’

‘‘It is the way you see it. I’m okay with that call being called ‘divine’.”

‘OKAY’ says Navin, as he clears his throat. ‘What have you got this time?’

The waiter, with his e-pen and pager comes to the table to take the order. Symbolically expressing with a V sign Devu said ‘‘Two JK Special thalis please’’. As soon as the waiter disappears, Navin asks, “No drinks tonight?’’, to which Devu replies, ‘‘No, not tonight. The characters of this concept should not be offended! You need to be attentive”.

That remark makes Navin very curious. With his typical grin, Devu starts… “This one is my own story.”

“Twenty six years ago, life was tough, pretty tough. My father’s absence was deeply felt by everyone in our family. Every-day was a struggle in itself but, I maintained a ‘happy-go-lucky’ demeanor almost everywhere.

It was 28^th of May, 1986. Amitabh Bacchan’s Aakhree Raasta was running in the theatres. The Balcony ticket was Rs 5 and the Stall ranged up to Rs 3. I could barely think of watching the movie as the situation did not permit me to have those pleasures. Yet, I would satisfy myself looking at the posters.On one such occasion, I happened to see a gang of girls moving around the theatre and one girl in particular looked very bubbly, full of energy. The distance between us made it hard for me to hear what she was saying, but her expressions were worth a watch! Even after going back, I could not put her out of my thoughts.

I had to travel for an hour and sometimes more to reach my school. Everything was quite new to me as I and my mother had just shifted to Ramnagar. The first day of school was something I can never forget. It was a mild surprise for me to see ‘Neeta’, the very same bubbly and chirpy girl from the theater in my class. She was every teacher’s pet and obviously popular.

(The waiter serves the dinner)

It was on the third day that she came to know about my existence when she was asked the meaning of the word ‘pedestrian’. Surprisingly, she did not know and then the teacher asked if anyone else did and I answered. She turned to see who had replied and that was our first eye-contact. Apart from Neeta, I was lucky to know Charan. We knew that we would be friends-forever. Those were the hard days where I used to eat once in a day, but my friend Charan would often take me to his house and feed me with delicious Khichdi cooked by his mother.

A few months later, our Science teacher had assigned us a project work. Charan recommended my name to Neeta and we along with 3 others were now in a group. I was very reluctant, because I would not be able to contribute anything. Every individual had to contribute 3 Rupees and this very fact made it hard for me. Charan explained my situation to Neeta and one day Neeta called me and asked for my help with the paper-related project in which my involvement would be of great assistance. She even asked me not to worry about anything else and stated that she would take care of the other issues. This assurance meant a lot to me.

We got to know each other while we were working on this project. Every conversation with her helped me to know her better. ‘Music is my companion. It helps me to leap from loneliness to aloneness. Music is everywhere around us. It is in every swirl of wind, in every chirping of a bird, in every minute and every second. Silence is also part of music. In-fact the world is full of music only if we have the ears to listen. Do you have ears, Devu?’ she asked. I barely had any idea about what she was saying. All I knew was that she was conveying something deep. She planted a seed in me that grew up to be my means of doing good to the society. She would often stress the importance of ‘Giving back to the society’ and that later became my only goal.

Our project was a success and the teacher appreciated our work. We were very jubilated to have impressed the teacher.

And now that we are in our middle-age, it is easier to understand that the few friends we made at school were only because we met 5 days in a week. But Neetu and Charan were friends-forever.

It was September 21. Her birthday. It was supposed to be a study-holiday but our Maths teacher had arranged a special class. Every Tom, Dick and Harry gave Neeta something or the other! Gifts ranged from a pencil to a lipstick. I could not gather courage to go and wish her without anything in my hands.

So I remained mum, the whole day. After the class, I could see her walking back to her house and this time there was no cycle. I ran as fast as I could and managed to say: Hey!, I have nothing to give you except my wishes. Happy Birthday Neeta’. I was heaving as I said it. ‘Materialistic gifts do not last long, but wishes do. Thank you Devu’ she said with a smile.

There were times when I was not able to buy books. So, she used to get me the scribbling pads from her dad’s clinic. Our friendship was not one big thing. It was a million little things that she did for me, and quite a few that I did for her.

We all have those moments where the ‘running time’ is our only enemy. Time does not wait, it moves on whatsoever. We had to depart to various places after the 10^th Grade exams and we never got a chance to bid goodbye to each other.

Twenty three years later, life presented an extraordinary chance to me. I could now try my luck and ask her if she ever wanted to bid goodbye or if she had ever tried to contact me. Thanks to Mark Zuckerberg’s FaceBook. I typed ‘Neeta Pushkal’ and lo! No results found. I filtered the search and then added new filters that included the pages I liked. This time, I excluded Pushkal. She might have got a new surname after her marriage.

Now, there were quite a few people with the name ‘Neeta’. The profile pictures of few Neetas had to be rejected as I knew Neeta’s display picture would either have her own photo or a picture related to Music. After going to the third page of the search, I managed to find Neeta Ravichandran; I was so happy to have seen her picture after more than two decades. I sent a message instantly:

‘Hello Neeta ji, How are you?

Do you remember me?’

I got the reply after a few hours. ‘Devu, so glad to have reached you through this medium. I tried searching you. Seems like you have joined FaceBook just yesterday!’ It was followed with a friend request by her. We exchanged our numbers and I called her.

(Now the two were having dessert)

‘Hello Neeta ji’ (Probably the automatic ‘ji’ was my means of conveying respect. I never really understood why it came so automatically)

‘Hello Devanand ji, Glad to hear from you’ and she dragged the Anand as she said those words.

We talked about the school days and the after-school seasons of life. She told me that she never really felt that a goodbye was necessary as one can always go to memories and cherish them every-time.

I told her that I had a lot to repay for the things she did for me and her answer was obvious to me: ‘It’s all Karma’.”

With the story and the meal over, Navin laughs and adds, ‘‘Now I know where this ‘Karma’ comes from’’.

“Neeta was very happy to know that I had named my daughter after her. ‘That’s the best gift you could ever give me, Devu ji’, she had said.

The best thing about our friendship is that we do not have that ‘urge’ to see each other, meet or call every now and then. Ours is beyond the thirst and mist. We always go back to the memory lane and re-live the moments within and such a bonding is hardly seen these days.... the purest of all.

We are yet to meet each other and see the middle-age face! But, neither of us is desperate and we have left it to the destiny to decide upon our rendezvous.”

‘‘Amazing, Devu. I’m impressed by the purity in your friendship! At the same time, it is not surprising to me! But, what should be the climax of this story-concept?’’

‘‘Left to you, Director! It is time for both of us to move’’, he says as he shows the 5 missed calls from his wife.

And they both move on!