“Rains.”
“And you want 20 songs for 10 campaigns?”
“I want 20 songs to pick from for the underscore of the entire campaign. The 10 comes later.”
Her mouth pursed, her cheeks appearing fuller and so beautiful as she looked at him like he was Hitler incarnate. She went back to her manic playing.
Tum se hi din hota hai… Taal se taal mila… Barso re megha megha…
“Ritu, you are driving me nuts with this. Either play one full song or don’t play.”
“I am searching for you only. Keep quiet.”
“I have an entire team to do that. Let’s do something that is not my work. Want to go to Juhu Beach for a walk?”
“No, wait…” she ignored him, busy playing more scraps.
Nilay sat down on the sofa and observed. It was like being inside the mind of a mad jukebox junky. There was so much they could do — talk, go out to eat, go to Juhu Beach for that sand walking thing. But here they were.
Tu hawa hai, fiza hai, zameen ki nahi… Bhaage re mann kahin
“Stop.”
She glanced up.
“Play the last one again.”
She hit play.
Behta hai mann kahi…
“No, the one before that.”
She frowned, going back. “This is not rain exactly. It’s…”
Tu hawa hai, fiza hai, zameen ki nahi, tu ghata hai toh phir kyon barasti nahi…
He sat up, closing his eyes, listening carefully. He had never heard this song and yet it felt like the cells of his body knew it. As an artist, he knew how pieces of art spoke to you from different mediums. This was one of those. But it spoke to him like it knew him, and he knew it.
He thought of his showstopper piece, Rainforest green, sequins of silver, lilac flowers blooming from the hem of the ghaghra to the waist.The journey of wind. From the hem of the ghaghra up to the waist, up to the blouse, ending on the bosom. From a tiny cocoon at the start to a butterfly unraveling on the shoulder, moving onto the dupatta. Growth of movement. Symmetry that hid it in plain sight. The constancy of change.
“This one.” His eyes popped open.
And the woman standing in front of him, playing that song on her phone for him,feltlike the one. He startled.
“You are weird.”
He blinked, because now shesoundedlikethe one.
“You briefed your team for a rain song and liked one that is about the wind? You are really weird. I pity your team. I hope their world-class perks are worth your crazy.”
Nilay smiled. Now heknewshe was the one.
12. Yeh Saazish Hai Boondon Ki
— NILAY —
His life could be neatly divided into two eras — before his mild angina and after his mild angina;mildbeing the operative word. Before, he’d wake up anywhere between 7 and 9 am, depending on how late he had slept the night before. He’d then shower, go to work or the gym, depending on how late he was. He’d push his first meal to brunch/ lunch, and go on non-stop until late evening. Post which, his schedule would loosen up to either make way for his design time if he was working on something or socialising. At any given hour of a week or weekend evening, he’d have nearly half a dozen events and parties to attend. Sometimes he’d choose the most important of the lot, sometimes his assistant would. At others, if he was in the mood, he’d go to all of them.
