Disgust

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Around her the crew members were buzzing with activity fixing lights, testing the sound system, shouting, giving and receiving instructions. The choreographer ran up to her panting “Let’s try the new moves for today’s song Ma’am. She sipped some juice, swept up her hair in a ponytail and took her position. She watched the steps being demoed. Now it was her turn.

All eyes were on her, the beautiful supermodel tuned actress. “One, two three….” Loud Hindi music filled the entire set. The lyrics and notes blared into the cool morning air. The song went on to describe the heroine as a piece of tandoori chicken, one whose snap was worthy of being glued to one’s chest. The crowd that had gathered to watch whistled and hooted, pleased with the flowing words that objectified women, depicting them as just an easy means of pleasure.

She was horrified upon seeing people laughing and cheering at the cheap lyrics. She didn't find it amusing at all. In fact, she found it disgusting. For the first time in her acting career, she found herself reflecting about the roles she had portrayed so far. What was it about the twists and turns of her hip, songs with repulsive lyrics and women in arm candy roles that attracted such a fan following?

She was in a fix. But ultimately she decided to bow out of the assignment. She knew of the risks. The labels that would be slapped onto her. Betrayer. Arrogant. There could even be legal issues. Worse, offers to do films would dwindle. But she was sure she didn't want to be a piece of chicken or jalebi anymore.







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Alive

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It had been just a few days since she got the news of her incurable illness from her physician. It had taken a while for the seriousness of the matter to sink in and finally she had managed to croak “How much time do I have?” to which the doctor, after a few moments of deep thought had replied “A few months if you are lucky.”

In those few days her world had turned upside down and every moment was punctuated by “Why me?” a question with no clear answer. It made her look back at the life she had lived. Had she really lived for herself? She found herself struggling to recollect times when she had followed her heart, doing things for her own happiness outside the expectations from her family. Who was she now? A wife? Mother? What did she love to do? What did she dream of? She was surprised that she couldn't remember.

She rummaged through her cupboard and found her guitar. It seemed like an object from another life. She dusted it and tested the strings. It felt a little awkward, holding it after ages but as she began strumming, her confusions melted away. She soon lost herself in the rhythm. She played like never before, reminiscing the days she when she used to perform for an applauding crowd. The musical notes swept through her, filling her with life and happiness. It was the most perfect moment of her life. She knew she was dying, yet she felt alive like never before.





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