Ila Das

Time to Tame

Ila Das

Issue 60, Spring 2020

There’s a right time for everything …

This is what Isha’s mother told her when she feebly expressed her desire to venture into creative arts.

“You are the top of your class. Why do you want to throw your career away? Arts, Films, music is only good to entertain yourself. They will not feed your stomach and are the most uncertain professions. Have you not read the celebrity interviews? This is the time to study hard and earn some high scores. Once you are well settled in life, pursue them as your hobby.”

And the time flies …

Isha graduated into a highly paid executive with a contented mother; a duty-bound wife in life.

A time to dream and a time to scheme …

But the allure of films had not waned from Isha's mind. When she watched a Bollywood movie, reclining on her plush sofa with a cup of hot-brewed coffee in her hand, she envisioned herself in the role of the actress. Mesmerized by the songs and dances, she became the heroine in her mind, plotting revenge against her unfaithful beau and fighting villains.

… until the grind of everyday life brought Isha back to the real world.

A time to seek …

Her family responsibilities completed, Isha thought it high time she worked towards her bucket list before death thwarted her dreams. She began by extensively searching the net for acting roles available for a novice.

A time to discover and a time to recover …

Her first call came from a casting agency that claimed she was short-listed for a mother’s role and wanted to confirm her availability for a ten-day shoot. Ecstasy knew no bounds; but a mother’s role? She reminded herself that age was not on her side and she should be happy with her first breakthrough in a cutthroat competitive market. On probing about what the agency offered, it was the role of a mother for a pornographic film, “Sexsphere’s Romeo and Juliet.” It took some time to recover from the clasps of the grave gaffe.

A time to trust that went bust …

The agency required an artist card with her other identity details.

“I do not have an artist card,” she said.

“Well, get it made within a week’s time,” the agency replied. “I will give you the number of an agent who will make it fast for you. You will need to pay Rs.10000 fee for the card.”

“But I do not have that much money right now.”

“OK, the production house will pay you half, you pay the balance and later this money will be deducted from your salary cheque.”

“Why don’t they pay the full amount and deduct it from my salary?”

“What if you run away?”

Agreeing it was logical, Isha contacted the agent.

“I hope you are a genuine person,” she said. “Will I get the card within a week, as assured by the casting agency?”

“What do you mean? I have been doing this for six long years. And the account you will be transferring the money is to the Artist Association, not a personal account that can be fraud,” the agent retorted.

“Sorry, no offence meant. Just that I read in papers, so I was sceptical.”

Isha transferred the money.

A time for fear and a time to tear …

Despite being cheated a number of times in the past, Isha trusted people. A fatal flaw and lessons never learned. Her calls to the casting agency, or agent, were never answered.

Not wishing to make a mockery of herself in the eyes of her family and friends, Isha kept the mishap to herself.

A time to redo and a time to make do …

Isha stared as if hypnotized at audition notifications posted on the walls of the marketplace, coaxing her to act on them. She memorized them all; a skill that had not diminished with age.

Isha called for an audition. She bustled to the appointment with hopes held high. The meeting place was in a plush residential area, the house of magnificent architecture. She was directed to go to the basement, and contrary to her glittery expectations, she was disappointed to find it nothing more than a rented space. Other candidates, all young, were seated in rows of chairs. Isha sensed her much older age a detriment. But not all scenes require youth, she hoped. Mothers are an important part of any good story too, right?

A time for euphoria and a time for dysphoria …

Isha’s audition was given a thumbs up by the director, who personally requested her audience for script discussion the next day. She floated on cloud nine. Her confidence level improved with the touch of make-up and the Chanel perfume that did not fail to spread its signature fragrance far and wide.

The Director spoke with the polished tone of a salesman. “Madam, you are genuine talent, and to get such an actress is our privilege. We shall gladly manage your portfolio, starting with a photo shoot that will cost you Rs.35000, and assure you assignments from top brands.”

Isha was confused. “I have come to act, though, not model,”

“Madam, we have streamlined your mode of entry into the films. These modelling assignments will increase your visibility in the media and will multiply your chances in the arena of films.”

After another hour of the Director’s assurances, Isha transferred the money.

Days turned into months and months to a year when she finally stopped calling them. “Why can’t I see through a person’s malicious intentions? How many times must I be cheated to learn?”

A time to tame and a time to re-aim …

It was the prestigious Bollywood Filmfare Award evening, filled with the Indian film industry arrogance and style. The occasion was graced with all the stars who seemed to have descended from the sky.

When the much-awaited time to announce the best actress award finally approached, Isha kept her fingers crossed and gazed at the TV screen without blinking. The all-time beauty of yesteryear, Rekha, opened the envelope slowly with well-manicured fingers.

Isha’s son came through the front door. “Mom, the postman has delivered an envelope, sender from US. Who posts snail mail these days? And why are you sleeping for so long today?” he shouted over the volume of the television.

Isha responded with a low moan. “Baby, this is me time, Sunday time, and the best actress envelope is about to be opened.”

“Maybe another dream envelope awaits you, --the real one perhaps.” He handed her the post. “Open it fast, Mom.”

Isha read the letter and shrieked. Staring in disbelief at an offer from a talent agency, she had sent her voice sample for an audition almost a year back. Her best friend insisted Isha had a magical voice that could be put to good use. Isha applied as voice-over artist at many places, with no expectation it would go anywhere. She had forgotten about it. The letter said she had been selected to voice an animated character for a Disney movie.

Her son snatched the letter from her hand. He read it twice to be sure it was not another scam. It appeared authentic, with no money required. “Mom, I am very proud of you. It’s a God-sent gift to a special person who always eats, drinks and breathes the silver screen, though never at the cost of her responsibilities as a super mom. You were running after an acting career in Bollywood, but this is even better. You deserve this, Mom.”

Isha sighed contentedly. There is indeed, a right time for everything.