The sky was gray. A cool breeze was blowing. It was going to rain. A man was sitting at a lone table in Angelo's Bar looking out of the window.
It was a shady place. A dim tube light filled the bar with gloom. There was a low chatter and the clinking of glasses. Business as usual.
The man came out of his reverie. He smoothed his shirt, ran his hand through his hair, and hailed the bartender. He ordered a whiskey and drank it down in one gulp. He sat still for a minute or two and then ordered a couple more rounds in quick succession.
Mr. Shah was sitting two tables away. He watched the whiskeys disappear one after the other. He was intrigued and decided to go over to the man's table.
"Can I join you?", he said drawing up a chair. "You look troubled."
"Oh no, nothing of the sort. I am surprised no one recognizes me here."
"I am sorry, but I ..."
He came forward and said, "Here, take a good look at me... No? I'm Tapan Das... the actor!"
"Sorry that still doesn't ring a bell. I'm not much of a movie buff, I'm afraid."
"Come, come, even you must have heard of such hits as ... uh ... 'Come Run Away With Me' and ... uh... 'A Traitor On Trial'. You haven't? Well, what a shame!... I rarely get on TV. Of course there's a bundle to be made in TV ads. Just look at Adil Raja. His face is on every goddamn product in the market! Toothpastes, shaving cream, cell phones, TVs, fridges...oh, you just can't get away from him. At any given moment, Adil Raja's stupid mug is peering into thousands of households across the country."
"I was curious why you ..."
Mr. Das, however, carried on, "Have you ever taken Lawrence Road? Why, down that road, there is a big billboard with me holding up a bottle of whiskey! In fact it is the same brand as this here."
"Oh!... I never noticed that.", Mr Shah replied, slowly rubbing his chin. "Anyway that's what I wanted to ask you about. The whiskey. Things been rough lately?"
"You know how things are in the movie business. The shooting of my latest film got delayed. The heroine threw a tantrum on the set. She got into a fight with one of the extras and slapped him. Oh, but the maharani wasn't satisfied with that! Had him roughed up and thrown out by security. Poor fellow, poor fellow... said he ruined her priceless sari with his greasy fingers. ...
I am a trained actor, you know. Not like that talentless bitch who's just just fallen out of a long line of rich bastards. A trained actor ...."
Mr. Das was working himself into a frenzy. As he spoke, the spittle shot in all directions. He rocked in his chair and jabbed his finger in Mr. Shah's direction. Mr Shah was starting to feel a little uneasy.
The wind outside threatened to knock out the power. The tube light blinked like a man in disbelief. It cast long shadows that reached into the corners and seemed to jump back in alarm.
Mr Das continued, "When I used to perform at the theatre, people used to sit on the edge of their seats. And when the curtains fell, the applause... oh, the applause, it would boom up to the heavens!! Do you know how I got my first break?"
"Umm... no.", Mr Shah managed to get out.
"It was the third night at the Crown. Hamlet. Mr Varma - he's a famous director... never mind - was sitting in the audience. He signed me on his next movie right then."
Then, suddenly, without warning, he stood up and began to recite:
"What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason,
how infinite in faculties, in form and moving,
how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension,
how like a God!..."
After that performance, Mr. Das lapsed into his chair. He downed the last of his whiskey, leaned forward and stared at the space between his knees.
Mr. Shah was completely taken aback. He looked silently across the table for a few minutes but Mr. Das didn't budge.
After a long time, Mr. Das raised his head. There was a remarkable change in his expression. The glazed look on his face melted into a wide smile. His ears were buzzing. He heard his name being called out repeatedly. He saw the bottom of the glass rising up towards him. He tenderly turned the glass over in his hands and kissed it.
"Huh... what?"
"Mr. Das... Mr. Das... Mr. Das, get up! It is time to leave. The bar is closing."
The rain smote the window like a thousand clapping hands. The tube light flashed furiously like a mad photographer. It could well have been the night of the Film Awards.
It was a shady place. A dim tube light filled the bar with gloom. There was a low chatter and the clinking of glasses. Business as usual.
The man came out of his reverie. He smoothed his shirt, ran his hand through his hair, and hailed the bartender. He ordered a whiskey and drank it down in one gulp. He sat still for a minute or two and then ordered a couple more rounds in quick succession.
Mr. Shah was sitting two tables away. He watched the whiskeys disappear one after the other. He was intrigued and decided to go over to the man's table.
***
"Can I join you?", he said drawing up a chair. "You look troubled."
"Oh no, nothing of the sort. I am surprised no one recognizes me here."
"I am sorry, but I ..."
He came forward and said, "Here, take a good look at me... No? I'm Tapan Das... the actor!"
"Sorry that still doesn't ring a bell. I'm not much of a movie buff, I'm afraid."
"Come, come, even you must have heard of such hits as ... uh ... 'Come Run Away With Me' and ... uh... 'A Traitor On Trial'. You haven't? Well, what a shame!... I rarely get on TV. Of course there's a bundle to be made in TV ads. Just look at Adil Raja. His face is on every goddamn product in the market! Toothpastes, shaving cream, cell phones, TVs, fridges...oh, you just can't get away from him. At any given moment, Adil Raja's stupid mug is peering into thousands of households across the country."
"I was curious why you ..."
Mr. Das, however, carried on, "Have you ever taken Lawrence Road? Why, down that road, there is a big billboard with me holding up a bottle of whiskey! In fact it is the same brand as this here."
"Oh!... I never noticed that.", Mr Shah replied, slowly rubbing his chin. "Anyway that's what I wanted to ask you about. The whiskey. Things been rough lately?"
"You know how things are in the movie business. The shooting of my latest film got delayed. The heroine threw a tantrum on the set. She got into a fight with one of the extras and slapped him. Oh, but the maharani wasn't satisfied with that! Had him roughed up and thrown out by security. Poor fellow, poor fellow... said he ruined her priceless sari with his greasy fingers. ...
I am a trained actor, you know. Not like that talentless bitch who's just just fallen out of a long line of rich bastards. A trained actor ...."
Mr. Das was working himself into a frenzy. As he spoke, the spittle shot in all directions. He rocked in his chair and jabbed his finger in Mr. Shah's direction. Mr Shah was starting to feel a little uneasy.
The wind outside threatened to knock out the power. The tube light blinked like a man in disbelief. It cast long shadows that reached into the corners and seemed to jump back in alarm.
Mr Das continued, "When I used to perform at the theatre, people used to sit on the edge of their seats. And when the curtains fell, the applause... oh, the applause, it would boom up to the heavens!! Do you know how I got my first break?"
"Umm... no.", Mr Shah managed to get out.
"It was the third night at the Crown. Hamlet. Mr Varma - he's a famous director... never mind - was sitting in the audience. He signed me on his next movie right then."
Then, suddenly, without warning, he stood up and began to recite:
"What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason,
how infinite in faculties, in form and moving,
how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension,
how like a God!..."
***
After that performance, Mr. Das lapsed into his chair. He downed the last of his whiskey, leaned forward and stared at the space between his knees.
Mr. Shah was completely taken aback. He looked silently across the table for a few minutes but Mr. Das didn't budge.
After a long time, Mr. Das raised his head. There was a remarkable change in his expression. The glazed look on his face melted into a wide smile. His ears were buzzing. He heard his name being called out repeatedly. He saw the bottom of the glass rising up towards him. He tenderly turned the glass over in his hands and kissed it.
"Huh... what?"
"Mr. Das... Mr. Das... Mr. Das, get up! It is time to leave. The bar is closing."
The rain smote the window like a thousand clapping hands. The tube light flashed furiously like a mad photographer. It could well have been the night of the Film Awards.
