Saudebaazi

 The Grinch returns to his home on occasion. He still hates Christmas but loves Diwali. Sometimes, he'll light up a candle for his beloved and take her name and cry himself to sleep. He's the saddest man in Mumbai. He loves to share this BT with his friends but he's promised himself to never take her name. So he doesn't. Because taking her name is a private hobby. Nor her name is for anyone but him.

If you walked in on him, he'd give you a death stare. As though you walked in on a blood ritual. But don't worry. He won't bite. Last Friday, I took the Grinch on a drive. He shared that when he was sixteen, he believed in soulmates and the feeling remained so strong with the one he shared that tag, when she finally left he never begun to think of any one the same way. So when he heard Anuv Jain's Baarishein, it resonated with him. He began to cry. Because the love of his life was miles away to sleep. 

One day, he'll live with her and they'll roast marshmallows in their kitchen. They'll buy an unfurnished home and sleep on mattresses, so that when they save enough they can buy things they love. One at a time. First a bed, then a desk. Then a TV. Perhaps a couch, some chairs and a dining table. He sounded cute when he told me this but he writes her name in his old Chemistry notebooks then quickly erases the text. Another private ritual. He's going to leave Mumbai. So that he can live in her city. He doesn't mind giving up on people. He doesn't care for anyone. Not even himself it seems. 

gair sa hua khud se bhi, na koi mera
dard se karle chal yaari, dil ye keh raha
kholun jo baahein, bas gham ye simat rahe hain
aankhon ke aage lamhe ye kyun ghat rahe hain
jaane kaise koi sehta judaaiyaan.

He sings the verse and I wait for him to complete. Uncaring, I wish to tell him his voice is course and this brand of music doesn't suit him. I don't think it would stop him from singing till his voice is hoarse. The other monkeys in the car barely match the quality of the voice in the song either. I put my arm on the window. We've left Mumbai. Nehru tells the Driver abjectively about a version of the Trolley problem. In this version of the problem, there's a bridge. About 1000 people in cars stuck on this bridge. One side is overcome by a horde of vicious criminals: rapists, murderers, sadists who wish to purge the city of the do-gooders who live on the opposite side of the bridge. 

He gives him two options: but before that he tells him, there's someone he loves on the bridge. A loved one. THE FIRST OPTION: bomb the bridge. it will kill all the people on the bridge. 

SECOND OPTION: let it happen. just let go.

Which one would you take?

The Driver chose the first option. When asked a reasoning, he refused to elaborate. 

Nehru called him a consequentialist. I asked him to elaborate. The Grinch seemed interested too. He'd stopped singing. A consequential is someone who believes in the greater good. He'd murder a 1000 to save a million. The Driver interjects I'm not one. I imagined my father on the bridge. I love him, but I don't like him. If believing one less bastard in the world would make the world a better place, then you're right. I'm a consequentialist. The Grinch almost chuckled, but he remains in character. He's the Grinch afterall.

Kharghar at night looks as though it's from a different world. A huge black mountain that dominates the scenery. Looking like out of a horror film, but such grotesque beauty perfectly fit for a Kashyap film. Nehru tells us about how he's having trouble with his girl. She'd told him she felt uncomfortable with him one day. He blames his demeanor. He'd unknowingly triggered a past trauma for her. And she pushed him away, he'd tried to comfort her. But I think he should've just left her alone. I remember the time I triggered a trauma in my girlfriend. We were fucking doggystyle. And she came. I did too. I was wearing a condom but she didn't think so. She ran straight off to the bathroom. I lied down on the bed. And I realised the condom was not on my dick. I panicked. She walked back in the room with the cum-filled balloon dangling in her hand. She'd carried it to the bathroom inside her. I began to laugh. 

We fucked for 2 hours after. 

Ratjage plays out Nehru ko KLPD hogaya. KLPD? Nehru asks. 

Khade lund par dhokha, said the Driver. 

the Grinch laughs this times as the car drives into the neo-noir abyss of expressways, speeding off till morning. When Grinch will see his beloved again. And I shall wait for another night to write tales of solitude to revel in till the next.