Just the Old times...

 

Power cut.

Another damn power cut!

As Mala got up to get the dynamo out of her cabinet, he heard Mathur saying:

‘These things never change, eh? Look at me, there hasn’t been a power cut in all my life.’ he said, with that vain smile.

Really, thought Mala, this man hasn’t changed a bit. Nineteen years ago when she last saw him till today…

Nope, not one bit…

Miss Mala Ray was one of those actresses who dominated the silver screen in the 70s and 80s. She started filming when she was only seventeen. The people of the bygone era would sit there, hypnotized by the beauty of the young girl, as she would deliver some melodramatic dialogue to the protagonist. She could still remember how people hollered about and cheered, and there would be numerous accounts of people breaking in, in an attempt to get an autograph. Ah, the old days! The golden days when cinema actually meant something!

And now?

Well, everything had changed about twenty years ago. You see, people didn’t want anymore those comedies or family films where the script made actually some sense. As a result, Mala – who was in her early forties – had three consecutive films as big flops. People seemed to suddenly forget her, forget how she lit up the dark room of the movie hall, how she would be the subject of many love letters written to her – although she didn’t marry (why lose your independence for God’s sake?)

Now, she resides in her old Park Street villa, watching the busy, money-mad, cut-throat world flash by her. The art of films was slowly dying – young men and women now wanted either to be an engineer or a doctor…in the 21st-century, movies were almost dead.

Mala lived alone for the majority of her life – she does still today. There are some days however, when she meets some of her fellow contemporaries in the dead of the night. Yes, the time is unusual, but what can she do about it?

They come to catch up…when the new world sleeps, preparing for a new day, the elders come to have some talk, still grappling their golden past…

Pouring the champagne into the glass, Mala asked, ‘So, how did you get over here?’

Mathur stared for a while in the darkness – illuminated by the single ray of white light from the dynamo – and said,

‘Don’t know. It’s still a daze….’

‘Everything is a daze to you, Sir. Tell me straight – what did you do this time?’

‘Oh hell, I’m telling you I don’t remember!’

There was silence for some moments, only to be interrupted by the gloomy gong of the nearly decapitated grandfather clock. It was midnight.

‘I remember seeing it over here.’ Mathur said. ‘Thirty years ago, it was just thirty years ago…’

‘Yeah, time flies right?’ Mala replied.

‘Hmm.’ Mathur said, as he drank his whiskey silently.

Yes, it was the same old whiskey Mala would see in his hand. Whether the shooting was interrupted, or even if the world was destroyed, Mathur would still be drinking a peg of whiskey.

‘Can’t you remember what happened?’ Mala asked again.

Mathur tapped his blue spectacles for some moments. Was he trying to remember what had happened the previous night? Or…

Or was he reliving his past? From the day he was introduced to the cinema world as a dashing eighteen-year old, who used to magnetize all the young teenage women around him, and who had to quit his career at the age of forty-five back in ’91 when five of his films were a disaster?

‘Can you pass the bottle? It’s still got the same fire as it had back in ’82.’ Mathur said.

After pouring a glass, he opened his mouth again:

‘Yes, what were you saying? Oh yeah, now I can remember faintly. I don’t know what happened, but when I woke up, I found myself standing in front of my house. I felt the desire to roam about the streets. It was evening, Calcutta was just beginning to light up. I walked, roaming around like a poet of the Hungry generation in an attempt to form something radical (I mean I’ve heard them do so, saw a film about one). The funny thing was that I noticed that I was feeling very light all of a sudden – like a lot of weight had taken off from me. I walked among the normal crowd, but saw them not paying any attention to me – even those fellows who still had some respect for the past seemed to not see me. Ah well, I thought, it’s no use to think about it. We were lost, just like that star in the night sky so many light years away, so…

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found myself facing Harinder. You remember him, right?’

‘Of course. Big man, Harinder Singh.’ Mala replied. She acted in about five films with him – three in Bengali, and two in Hindi.

‘Yes, that Harinder. He shook my hand firmly, telling how I was. After some chit-chat, he asked me something which made me roll my eyes.

“So, have you visited her?”

“Sorry, who?”

“Mala. Mala Ray. She was your co-actress, right?”

‘I couldn’t remember your name for that moment (upon this Mala gave out a sarcastic chuckle). After speaking with Harinder for some time, I finally remembered you. Yes, I said, I do remember her. But what was there to visit her? Why?

“We do it, you know. When one of us has to go away for the final time, we visit her. It's kind of a reunion, you know.” Harinder said.

For some moments, I stood there motionless. What was he talking about? For the final time…

I looked up at Harinder. But where was he? He just seemed to disappear in the busy evening roads, where the wild sodium lamps casted dancing shadows…

And that’s how I landed up over here. Jesus, I still can’t remember how…’

There was some moments between the two people. Meanwhile, the clock gave off two rustic gongs. It was two o’clock in the morning.

(wow, how time flies by!)

Mala – sipping on her third glass of champagne – said, ‘So, you still don’t know why you’re here?’

Mathur scratched his head. ‘Nope. Memory is such a-

Suddenly, his eyes went very still. He sat on his chair for a moment, staring deeply into the dynamo’s white circle of light.

Then, a smile came up on his face.

‘I get it now. I get it very well now.’

‘See? That’s the thing. We gather over here, talk and drink, humouring each other, just like the old times…one last time.’

Mathur added, ‘And, for the last time. I get it now.’

The next one hour they chatted away like two old friends – relieving their memories of the high school; perhaps as a husband and wife (Mala still remembers that controversy) discussing over the state of things…

Or maybe, as long-lost lovers, speaking in a hushed tone, confessing love, affection, only to be taken away by time…

Time, Mala wondered.

Time.

It was this word which made all the difference. Three decades ago she and Mathur were the front pages of Tollywood – the headlines of every magazine. Three decades they used to get all the attention (wanted or unwanted).

Three decades ago people knew them.

And three decades later? No one remembers…

Nobody remembered…nobody…

‘Mala?’

The former actress shook out of her reverie.

‘Yes?’

Mathur hesitated for a moment, and then he started speaking, very slowly-

‘Look, I don’t know whether I will be able to come back over here again. So, I wanted…I wanted…

‘Wanted what?’ Mala replied.

Mathur gave a chuckle.

‘Your smile is still the same as it was all those years ago…many people used to fall in love with you, remember? And you used to get letters?’

‘Yes, I do. But what of that?’ Mala said, not quite understanding him.

Mathur cleared his throat, and said,

‘Do you remember that last love letter you got?’

Mala tried to remember. There were so many of them, it was as if the whole world as suddenly broken apart just to meet her…

And then she remembered it. Yes, it had come from perhaps one of her unknown admirers. She even remembered the date. It was her birthday – 1st May, 1986.

‘Yes. I do. And I think I now know who sent it to me.’ Mala replied back. Her smile lit up the room a bit more. The sky was getting bright outside meanwhile…

‘You do?’ Mathur said. He felt a bit of uneasiness.

Mala laughed aloud.

‘Really, Mathur, you haven’t changed! I knew it was you since the day I received that letter. I asked the man who gave it to me, and he told that it was a tall man wearing green sunglasses, a light coat, and had a weird smile around his face. Now who cannot recognize-

Mala suddenly stopped. She saw Mathur holding her hands.

‘I had always trouble asking this question. Even though it’s worthless now, just for the sake of old times:

Do you love me?’

Mala felt that this was the moment. For nineteen years she had been looking the perfect opportunity to find him and say –

‘Yes. Yes I do, Mathur!’

Mathur’s face lit up with a smile. He now got up. It was four-thirty in the morning. Outside, the city was slowly waking up

(it was time to sleep)

‘Well, I must be on my way. Thank you, Miss Mala Ray. Thank you very much for saying that.’ Mathur said, as he gave out a yawn and moved towards the door, leaving…

Leaving for the final time…

‘Goodbye, Mathur. I’ll miss you.’ Mala said.

At the door, he suddenly stopped, and then turned around to face Mala. He had a smile up his face...was he trying to express something?

Maybe...maybe...

---

In the latest edition of 'Anandalok', the news came out. The page 17 mourned the death of an actor called Mathur Misra.

Mathur - a dashing actor who won many hearts in the 70s and 80s - was found dead lying upon his table. Apparently, he had been drinking a lot - alcohol overuse had delivered his fate...

On the table, his hands grasped a letter...someone admiring him...

'Dear Mathur,

I am a girl. I love you. I've been hypnotized by your face. But most of all, I love you.

Can you recognise me?

Yours,

An admirer.

14th October, 1986'

And Mathur now knew, to whom that letter belonged...even after nineteen years, it still hadn't lost its value...just like the old times never tarnish...

Never ever tarnish...

***

M.Macabre

25.06.2021

Writers notes:

There is none. Just old times...