As the door to Delight Talkies banged noisily closed behind them, reverberations from the sound sent showers of dust onto the two men from crevices and ledges around the foyer. Piyush covered his mouth and nose with his hand, scant protection against the damage that could be done to his voice, but it was all he had. “What do you think?” Anand asked. “Is it not a good place for you?” Even in the gloom and through the dust Piyush could see hints of gilt and the shine of marble. He was tempted to be honest with Anand and tell him how he had felt when they stepped through the door and the dust and grime confronted him. Sometimes though, he knew, tact and diplomacy were required. “I need time to practice, I need to find a pianist to practice with. Do you think this place can be ready in time? Ten days, I think, is what we have.” His mind was shouting, no, no, no... it will never be ready, it will take that long to clean the foyer, and I haven’t seen the auditorium yet, but he had forgotten that in India labour was cheap. “It will not be a problem, my friend, I can have fifty people in here and they will clean it to sparkling new in two days, I am sure, and we only need to pay them one-hundred rupees each day, no more than that.” “How did you find this cinema, Anand? Do you know the owner of the building.” “Oh yes, I know the owner very well. I am the owner. It was my family business. My father loved this place and was so sad when I didn’t want to follow him here, but my choice was right. Nowadays everyone wants to go to the bright new places where they can choose from many films to watch and eat popcorn. That is not real cinema.” Piyush said nothing and let Anand continue speaking. He was intrigued by the unfolding story of his friend’s background. “My father knew all the big stars of his day and sometimes they would come here. In those days it was all Indian films and they were so good. Now most of them are forgotten. All the people want is shooting and car chases and big explosions and people doing the kissing. They want lots of songs, and dancing too, and sometimes that is so silly.” Anand’s voice had softened as he remembered and reminisced. This was a side of him that had never even been mentioned in their whisky fuelled, rose garden evenings. It surprised Piyush, he would never have guessed that his friend was a cineaste. “I saw such wonderful films here, such wonderful films. They were so beautiful. I liked the black and white ones best, because I could imagine the colours of places I had never been. I would come here and watch films over and over, and even though I was young I could remember whole sections of the speaking. All the actors were so handsome and the lady actors so pretty. They knew how to behave then, there was no hanky-panky, not like today. This place was heaven to me.” Piyush listened as Anand continued his soliloquy. He was genuinely interested in what this sturdy, usually no nonsense, man was saying. It was as if he had drifted back to a very happy past, to a time that progress had all but eradicated. He knew that the ability to do that was essential to ongoing happiness, and this manifestation of a different Anand brought a smile to his face. “My father employed sixteen people here and every night the cinema was full to overflowing. People came here to escape, to dream, and it was good that they had this place. “I remember Mr Gupta, he worked the projecting machines and he was like a god to me. Such an ability he had, such magic with only man-made things. He was the one who could make the people laugh or cry or tremble with fear, just by doing his job. Mr Gupta loved his work so much he worked every day of the week all year round. “When I was older I was allowed to visit Mr Gupta in his projecting room. I would take him his tiffin and chai that his wife delivered every day to the cinema. He showed me once how he would put a coin between the layers of film near the end of the reel, so that the noise when it dropped to the floor would remind him to switch to the second projecting machine as the reel ended. Such days those were, such days... Now it is all digital. There is no magic any more, the magic is all gone... “I am sorry Piyush, I am so very sorry. You do not want to hear my silly stories.” Suddenly back in the real world, Anand was embarrassed and apologetic. “I must show you the auditorium.” ******** Inside the auditorium it was not just gloomy, it was dark, Piyush could see nothing and had no sense of the space. “I am sorry, I forgot, I must switch on the house lights. You must wait here. I will be very quick. Do not move in case something has fallen.” As Anand re-opened the door and passed through it, the gloom that momentarily entered the greater darkness allowed Piyush to see no more than an arm’s length ahead. His eyes had adjusted to the lightless auditorium, and what was black before was black still, with no more than the suggestion of shape where he knew a row of seats should be. Although it was warm, he felt a sudden chill, perhaps no more than a reaction to all the ghosts, both on celluloid and of this world, that haunted this place. “It is very dark here, is it not?” Mangalesh Dabral asked. “But it has to be, you see, it has to be. In the darkness you can better see the things that trouble you. They will come from wherever they are and you will see them, when you see them you will understand them.” Piyush stared at where he thought the voice was coming from. There he could see a barely discernible luminescence, it was as if the darkness there was particulate and some of the particles held a hint of charcoal grey. “Is that what you really look like?” “It is one of the things I can look like,” Mangalesh said, “I am still learning of these things, if I had shown you as I usually do you would not have seen me here.” “That’s true, and I can’t really see you even now.” As he spoke the house lights glowed into life. “That is better,” Mangalesh said as he suddenly appeared before Piyush. “I like for you to see me.” “Me too,” Piyush replied without much conviction as Anand clattered back into the auditorium, “it’s good to see what isn’t really there.” “You were talking to someone?” “No. No. Just thinking aloud.” “I will show you how wonderful this place will be for you,” with that he took his friend’s arm and guided him to the front of the cinema.
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 12:41:17 +0000
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