Curtain fall

It all began at the age of 18 when I received the first prize for a short story writing competition at Rendezvous, the annual cultural festival of IIT Delhi. I was in my first year of Mechanical Engineering at Delhi Technological University (DTU) then. Being the only female student of my branch, I was noticed by everyone, often by the name of “Mech Queen”. This recognition gave me the additional tag of a writer, and some of them proclaimed I would go places. Yes, they were right. That was the only beginning; the journey from the “Mech Queen” of DTU to the most celebrated female screenwriter and director of Bollywood was not an easy path. As an outsider to Bollywood, I had my own struggles in the beginning phase of my career. After I tasted my first success, I had to continue reinventing to manifest that it was not just beginners’ luck, but I am genuinely talented. Right after I delivered my third hit, there was not a look back. The industry celebrated Ms Bannerji as a brand, and all the top-notch production banners, including the ones who neglected me at the beginning of my career, were all behind me for scripts. I was kind enough not to ignore them as they did and allowed each of them, which majorly resulted in superhits. I was known for producing commercial blockbusters without diluting the content, an area which Bollywood often ignored to explore more.

After every success, I often asked myself a question, “What next?” To answer this question, I took hours, days, weeks or at times months. There was not a single time I took more than a year to ideate my next project. But now, it’s been three years that I have been thoughtless. How is that possible? Am I facing a temporary writer’s block or something permanent?

On a fine Sunday, I realized the time has come for me not to write nor direct any movies. It appeared random to some of my peers, but for me, it was a firm decision that stabilized across years. Meanwhile, I happened to read a couple of books about the ancient Indian texts, which explained the four ashramas or stages in one’s life, and how imperative it is to go through all these stages to attain Moksha or salvation. The four ashramas are Brahmacharya (Student), Grihastha (Householder), Vanaprastha (Retired) and Sannyasa (Renunciate). The Vanaprastha ashrama resonated in my minds where one is supposed to hand over the responsibilities to the next generation and gradually withdraw from this world. With the beautiful thought of Vanaprastha as a healthy inspiration, my journey of pilgrimage starts here.

The mountains on top are not owned by us, nor by anyone, my son.

The rivers flowing seamlessly are not owned by us, nor by anyone, my son..

This soil, this land, is both not owned by us, nor by anyone, my son…

Now, I narrate a story different from what I have told, my own story, my last story!

L I G H T S

C A M E R A

A C T I O N

The sky is clear, the weather is dry and warm, and the roads are empty. I continued walking across the left-hand side of the well-tarred road. The view on either side looked dry, barren and with little signs of vegetation. The landscape appeared to be hot, but the sun was kind enough not to tire me. I enjoyed the walk, like never before. Though I knew very well, I am not going to write anymore; my mind couldn’t stop searching for stories and plots. One can’t change some habits like that. All my magnificent plots, colourful backdrops, gigantic movie sets, meticulous preparations behind each scene, creative differences between my cast and crew, diverse production studios all ran through my mind at full tilt. What an incredible journey it has been! As I look back, it was neither the box office successes, nor the fame nor the money, but the sheer satisfaction derived out of the job kept me moving. What more I could have asked for in my life?

The road further looked empty, straight and unending. There is no sign of any curves within my eyesight, but I could spot a bus stop nearby. I decided to take some rest. I sipped a few drops of water and closed my eyes. Tales of friendship and affectionate families, unadulterated romantic sagas, legendary fables of the rise of Bombay underworld dons, magnificent science fiction chronicles… every story had a commercial flavour blended perfectly. Now, I bid adieu to the silver screen dreams that I was breathing for more than half of my life. Nevertheless, I decided to stop breathing and opened my eyes.

A bus is in front of me. Where is it heading? The name of the place is written in a script close to Hindi but not Hindi; I could read it closely to Devanagari, (translated to Heaven). With no second thoughts, I onboarded the bus with no ticket examiner, but a driver.

For every leaf that falls,

Does she shed a tear?

Out of love and bondage deep.

Should she have to,

For it is the leaves,

that lose a home,

to be called and claimed their own.*

There were three passengers inside the bus, excluding me: An elderly couple and a younger boy. He was in his 20s and had a helmet. He appeared as he just escaped from a bike injury. I started ignoring them and focusing on the journey with a constant reminder of this question

Why did I decide to embark this new journey?

It’s not easy to have convincing answers for everything one does. When I started pursuing a career in Bollywood post my graduation from one of the best engineering colleges in the county, all of them tagged me to be a loser! I was always the one that swam against the flow. My family, friends and relatives questioned my life decisions continuously till I met success with my third movie. The ongoing criticisms on my choices about life, career path, preferred clothes, life partner, ended then. It was the birth of Ms Bannerji.

Now, why did people start re-questioning my choices? Did it happen because the brand value of Ms Bannerji was falling?

Whatsoever, my external environment started bothering me now, which never happened in my 20s. At that tender age, I had gathered the courage to face everything. I converted all criticisms as positive reinforcement to showcase the world my capabilities and beliefs. But now, despite being an achiever, why I have to face it again? Because my last two films performed poorly at the box office? Or was I always an outlier, and the humungous successes beautifully concealed the original Ms Banerji to others?

When will people get accustomed to the practice of live and let others also live by their choices? I could experience me questioning my rationality which always happens before the birth of a new story. Does this mean I got another thread for my story? Yes, the moment I have been waiting for years has arrived now. I got tempted to stop the journey, go home and complete the writing. Yes, this story thread is worth taking a step back. Even if it fails, I shall be good. This movie is not going to measure the legacy of Ms Banerjee in any form. I am Ms Bannerji, and I do what I think!

I decided to step down at the next step. In the last past one hour of bus journey, I could only spot people entering the bus, and nobody was leaving.

Everybody is travelling to Devanagari. The granny sitting in front of my seat told me.

But I decided to get down.

The next stop arrived. Before I stepped my feet outside, I noticed a badly injured girl entering the bus. There were injuries all across her body, and somebody ripped off her tongue. The sight was shocking! I felt I should stay back to take good care of her, as nobody even bothered to have a look at her.

Who did this to you? I was surprised

She continued weeping.

How can someone do this to you? I questioned again

I don’t know Ma’am. It is paining, paining badly. That’s all I know

I carried her to my seat, wrapped her injuries with my shawl and stayed close to her. She felt protected after being mentally and physically tortured for days. The long shadow of her on the road visible from the moving bus was not scaring her anymore. Eventually, she became fearless. The bus moved on, with a single destination for everyone in the vehicle, “Devanagari.”

C U T

In the city of dreams, Mumbai, many journalists are waiting outside the Nanavati Hospital. The famous screenwriter and director, Ms Banerjee attempted suicide and is in a critical stage in ICU. The national media channels received a new prime hot news to sustain their headings for many weeks.

Journalist 1: Doctor, how is Ms Bannerji?

Doctor: She is still under observation. A while before she showed some positive signs of recovery and we are hopeful

Journalist 2: Doctor, is that suicide or an attempt to murder?

Doctor: It’s too early to comment on anything. Right now, we are only focused on saving her life.

Minutes passed, with a piece of single breaking news on television channels across the country, and I was trending on all social media channels.

Doctor: Sorry, she is no more! She took her last breath a while back.

The celebrated doctor of Nanavati hospital proclaimed the death of Ms Bannerji to the world.

For every root that wanders

Beyond what she can see,

But can feel; for it’s still a part,

Should she reconnect,

should she reconcile?

What if these roots; they leave,

quite knowing, they’re far from home?*

The journalists and media channels are going to celebrate my death, explore the reasons behind, devise conspiracy theories, and denounce my relatives, friends and colleagues. I feel empathetic towards the person whom I had the last phone call with, the people who visited me in my Bandra flat, the person who shared a drink with me and the person who kindly rolled a joint for me, one last time. But am I worthy of so much of news value when you have umpteen primary problems to be discussed, debated and solved? I understand I am a public figure and would be a concern to many. But will the reason behind my suicide make any difference to their lives? Are they going to address the mental stress that I underwent in my last days and devise solutions for treating depression of the many? Or will they correlate my untimely death to my marital status, my sexual orientation, my relationship with other men in the industry, my critical mindset towards the societal issues, my political stands and the list continues.

There was one moment in my journey to Heaven; I realized I made a mistake and had a longing to get back to my life. I then decided to step down from the bus, but the 19-year-old brutally raped girl opened my eyes. I became ashamed of living in a world that normalizes the rape of an innocent girl. Will I be safe there anymore?

Forget the failure of the brand Ms Bannerji, have we not failed ourselves as a society? And what role I have to play in a fallen world? Let me travel to Devanagari, continue narrating my stories, and live in a better world. Please stop worrying about me but start worrying about the numerous problems around you. I am fine, and I will be fine. Fin!