“One of our new authors writes under a pen name.We organise many activities.like author interviews and book signings, when we launch a book.This author is shy and, for personal reasons, does not wish to be in the limelight.”
“Why would he not want to be in public?Everyone wants to be famous.”I interrupt Priya.This whole thing is confusing me.
“He has some personal obligations.The book has queer characters, and he is not out to everybody in his life.”
“What personal obligations?”I am not convinced.
“I am afraid I am not in a position to reveal those details.”
Priya’s words do not help.The secrecy raises my hackles.Such a waste of my time.What sort of scheme are the author and this agency cooking?
“And you expect me to play this author in the real world without sharing vital information.Do I get to meet the author, or will he stay hidden from me, too?How do you expect to pull this off?Is this even legal?”
Priya squirms in her seat, “Umm, yes.You will deal only with me.I will train you and be your guide.In all public appearances, I will be there beside you.We will prepare a set of answers and a backstory matching your real life.You do not have to answer any questions or do anything uncomfortable.Everything will be on an agreement.”
She pulls out a bunch of papers.“This is a draft.You should read the agreement and take a legal opinion.”She takes out another folder and hands me the documents.“This is a brief outline of the book with notes by the author, which will help you understand some of his reasons behind this strange request.”
I read a few sentences in the agreement, but they don't make sense to me.I sigh in exasperation and place the papers in front of her.“I am not sure I even want to do this.I had hoped you would offer me some modelling assignment or a TV role.”
Priya pushes the folders to me.“Jimmy, take these.Discuss with your friends and family.Speak to someone who understands the legal language.Take your time before you decide on anything.This is a humble request.The agency’s reputation, and my own, are on the line.We would not have brought a stranger to discuss this if our intentions were bad.”
Priya leaves me with those words, ending the meeting at noon.My return train, Ranikhet Express, departs at eight at night.What will I do for the next eight hours?Aditya's friend Jatin lives in Gurgaon; visiting him is one option, but I am not in the right frame of mind to meet someone new in Delhi.
My stomach growls, making the decision easy.First lunch and some shopping.Sudhanshu and Sahil had made a list of restaurants and sweet shops for me.They warned me not to eat at Rajiv Chowk and advised me to go to Chandni Chowk instead, where the food is cheaper and more delicious.I take out the print of the Metro map Aditya had outlined for me.
The route appears to be straightforward.Take the Yellow line to New Delhi Railway Station next to Pahar Ganj and drop my bag at Aditya's one-room apartment.From there, hop on the same line to reach Chandni Chowk.
The journey to the apartment takes fifteen minutes.On the way, my decision is made.I do not fake or lie to people.I also need to consider the family who threw me out.Priya does not know them, but I do.My mood sours thinking about them.I am so lost, brooding over the meeting, that I miss the man as I turn the corner to climb the stairs to the first floor of Aditya’s apartment.
“Uff,” the document folder flies out of my hand and spreads on the pavement.
“Sorry, son.So sorry.”The bald man with a round belly, in a pin-stripe shirt and grey pants, hanging with suspenders, helps me collect the strewn papers.
“Sorry, Uncle Ji.You do not need to apologise.I should pay more attention while walking.”I thank the man when he hands me the folder.
“You live here?”The man enquires, giving me a once-over as he adjusts his glasses.
“No, sir, I live in Almora.Came here for a job interview.A friend offered his place for the night.”
“Are you an English author?”He points to my folder.
How did he conclude?“No,” I correct him.
“Ah, but the agency publishes books?”Hmm, so he recognises the Zappster logo.Uncle ji is nosy, but I guess the houses here are packed like matchboxes, so everybody must be into everybody's business.
“Umm, yes.I mean, I write.”I cringe.What am I doing?Already on the road to faking and lying.But I have signed a non-disclosure agreement, and there is no point in explaining to a stranger what the agency offered me an hour ago.
The man pats my shoulder.“Wish you luck, young man.I hope you find success.”He walks off, shuffling while favouring his right leg.
I hate myself and these big city people, but the faceless author wins my choicest curses.Why can't he be himself?Is being genuine so hard?I want to return to the comfort of my home and friends in Almora, but the train is at night.Another sixteen hours before I can breathe the fresh air of the mountains.
I clasp the key chain with the cute lion and thank Aditya again for his gesture.His place is a boon for anyone travelling to Delhi for a short trip.I did not expect to find the apartment spic and span, with a bed covered in clean sheets, fresh, dry towels in the bathroom, and new toiletries.Aditya must have asked someone to get the place ready for me.A warmth spreads through my body.Forget this gig or modelling aspirations; if Aditya is in my life, do I need anything else?He has already done more for me than that stupid Daljit.
***
ADITYA
Urgh.Stop making a trench in the ground.
