In All Things, Charity

Annie was the first person to welcome me to my new apartment. She didn’t live in the building, but had dropped by to ask if I needed a cooking lady. A slight woman with a simple blue dress buttoned up modestly to hide a bosom too big for her shoulders; her salt and pepper hair was sculpted with pungent coconut oil into a tight bun. Her spectacles hung on a chain from her neck along with a simple gold crucifix. Without either she claimed to be blind.

I felt the urge to hide my ashtray full of spliffs when she came in on that first day, but she smiled and said, “What can one say or do… nowadays all you kids are like this, man.” She struck me as the sort of woman who having found God early on in life, had since been living for the eternal bliss she would eventually receive. 

We decided she would come in every morning and evening; but when later that year I was fired from my job, she started coming in three times. Rather than cook, she would come in and rip the sheets off me who had taken to lying in bed all day. 

While making me chai, she’d tell me stories about her younger son who had been born blind, her eldest who was the apple of her eye because he had skipped two grades in school and her husband who drank so much liquor that a single kiss from him left her inebriated. Daily, she’d take the train from their little jhuggi in Mahim; inevitably, she had a story to tell about that as well. Sometimes an amusing story from the platform, sometimes an unexpected harshness experienced in the ladies compartment.

In this time, I saw Annie more often than my friends. But, never considering her familiar enough to talk to about the terrifying listlessness unemployment brings about, I would sit on my dining table and listen to her ocean of stories. 

My house was the first of her stops and usually she worked late enough, that at the days’ end she’d have to take a cab back home as the train service had stopped. This she found annoying since no auto rickshaw would leave Bandra to go to town. The taxi home cost her at least 200 rupees on the days she could not find another person to share it with. This amount she considered obscene. 

Descriptions of her family in Mahim bothered me. Four of them shared a bedroom and kitchen along with one parrot - it sounded overcrowded and depressing. Living by myself in a place thrice as big, I couldn’t help but feel guilty at the luck of my draw. Inevitably I’d start to shift around in my seat when she told me stories about her house. There was a resentment I'd feel towards her when this would happen, even though she was good at keeping her stories amusing and light. 

When the month passed by without me finding another job, I was at my lowest and would not even leave my bed for chai. Annie started to push me towards alternatives I hadn't the heart to tell her were for housewives.

“Do something good to occupy your time, charity heals the soul” she said. For my part, I did my best not to make  particularly obvious the advice’s fast track from one ear out the other.

One morning, she came in with a pink flyer. Printed on it, a photograph of a tiny cardboard box from which three even tinier puppies were staring up at the big bad world. Their sad eyes seemed to implore you specifically, and it read “PUPPIES FOR FOSTER - please help!!” along with a phone number for those so inclined. I wasn’t and this is what I told Annie.

“Come on, they’re like little babies!” she said, “It’s only for a little while and it’ll do you good to help out!!” It took her a while and, frankly, I only agreed because I thought by then the dogs would have found a home.  

 The girl who dropped the puppies off was almost as perky as Annie, she seemed only a few years younger than I, was dressed like a university student. “There’s these three left, two of them have been adopted and their owners will come pick them up soon.” she told me, “and this little guy...” she said holding the tiniest one up for inspection, “is still looking for home, so if you're interested...”

He was so small, it was heart wrenching; he had droopy black ears and stuffed toy body, with a curly-whirly attached to his bum instead of a tail.

“I doubt it,” I told her, “but I’ll take care of all of them till you guys find homes.”

I have not had dogs since I was twelve, and here are the things you skip when raising a pet with parental supervision. They do not sleep, your world is their toilet, they puke everywhere and they eat anything.  One week, four phone chargers, eight pairs of shoes and innumerable late-night clean ups later, two of the puppies were picked up; I surprised myself by feeling sad.

“Little Tyson is the only one left!” said Annie when she came in that morning. “Stop giving him a name,” I said to her.  But, secretly, I thought LT, the shortened version of his Annie-christening, had a nice ring to it. LT certainly described, perfectly the pugnacious, little puppy. I realised that I had grown quite fond of him. “Maybe I’ll keep him,” I said, “I’ll go buy him a bed and some treats today.” Annie was quiet, but I didn’t think too much of it.

When later that day I got a call back for a job interview, I told Annie, “The universe is paying me back for helping out.” That’s not how charity works,” she said, but it was laughingly; so I thought it alright to roll my eyes at her and in my excitement, forgot her words.

The next morning the realisation that I’d need a puppy sitter in order to go for the interview had me nearly in tears. Annie arrived as always on time. “I’ll watch him,” she said to me, forever helpful. “But you’re working other houses.” I said.

“I’ll take him home to my boys, they have summer vacation. They’ll happily watch him and I’ll bring him back in the evening.”

It was a convenient solution for me, so I was quick to agree. I had a car and would most likely pass Mahim on my way to Nariman Point where the firm’s offices were. Searching for Annie’s little house in Mahim’s tiny winding streets would make me tardy. So I never thought to offer her a ride.

The interview went off well and by the time Annie came back, I was celebrating with a few friends and a few beers. “Oh yay,” someone said ironically when the door bell rang, “dog crap!” I laughed.

Annie stood with a boy, who was holding on to the puppy for dear life. He reached till my shoulders, was about fourteen; wide-eyed and skinny as children who run around Mumbai tend to be. “We’ve come to give you your dog,” he said before Annie could speak. He let go of LT who immediately bounded into the house.

“What do you say Jonah?” she said sternly. “Thank you for letting us play with him,” he said looking slightly dejected. “No! Why I thank YOU,” I said to him in a tone equivalent to ruffling his hair. 

Annie turned to me beaming “So how was the interview?” I smiled back, “I got the job! They’ve asked me to start from the day after!” “That’s wonderful!” she said. With that, she and her son went on their way. When I turned around, my friends were feeding LT beer. I chastised them but could not help laughing at the little dog’s bewildered expression after he’d gone through a few bowls of lager.

I had to find someone to watch LT while I was at work, and so struck a deal with the guard outside my apartment building. When Annie came in the morning, I told her the plan. “All you have to do is feed him in the morning and then give him to the guard, and bring him in, in the evening when you come to make dinner.”

It didn’t seem like a complicated routine to me. Raised by a working mother, my life had been a barrage of car pools and play dates. Annie, however, looked skeptical, “Are you sure about leaving him outside?” “Well, what would you have me do?” I asked. There was a bit of a silence before she said, “I could take him. My sons love him.” I thought of the one bedroom, four people and parrot and didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh. 

“That’s the worst idea I’ve heard yet.” I said to her, “He’s going to get bigger and bigger, where will you keep him? In your little jhuggi?” I was looking out for a puppy, I told myself. After all, he deserved the best care, like I was able to provide; with toys, treats and space.

As the weeks progressed, I thought my plan was working well. By the time I would get home from work, LT and Annie would be home and he would be fed.

I could have easily continued to sacrifice wires and shoes to him, but as work got busier, his playfulness became a burden. On more than one occasion, I sat him down and screamed, “Look dog, I don’t have time for you right now!” To keep him busy, I substituted my time with a multitude of toys. Still, he ate through both with a vengeance. 

As a month passed and he grew bigger, I realised it wasn’t going to be possible to keep LT with me. The guard I entrusted him with had taken to tying him to a pole through the day. His frantic barking had soured my whole building to the idea of having a dog in the compound. So I did what everyone does.

I put up flyers around my neighbourhood and a note on my Facebook. I asked my friends if anyone wanted a puppy. There was a lot of noise about how cute LT was, but no takers. Anyone with a space big enough to keep him didn’t want it ruined by a dog.

At that time, I thought of Annie, but could not bring myself to ask her to bail me out. She quietly reiterated her offer to take LT, and in fit of pride, I informed her that I had found a kennel that would take him.

Since I had done no such thing, Annie wasn’t the only one surprised by this announcement. To make matters worse for myself, I then went on to say, “Oh yea, they’re in Bandra and a wonderful facility, big rooms for the dogs and everything. I’m going to take LT there next week!” Annie was ecstatic; she wanted to know the address so she could visit LT on her days off and shyly she asked, “You won’t mind if my boys go with me would you?” Of course I didn’t mind. I wouldn’t if such a place existed. It didn’t.

Turns out that one has to pay through the nose to house a dog in Bombay, and that kind of money, I didn’t have. Looking at the mammoth price tags in dismay, I felt for the first time as small as the room in which Annie lived. After pouring through the Internet for days, I finally found a ‘dog motel’ (it was so called) nearby and one that I could afford. Sweet relief!

I gave Annie the address almost triumphantly and in the week that came, with a heavy heart, dropped LT off at the ‘motel’.

The motel’s grounds, which ran in a semi circle before the building, were well kept in a rather dull way; the grass was cut short but no flowers or trees adorned the garden. The building, a one-storey bungalow, must have been painted white once; literally just once. The original colour of the outer walls could’ve been anyone’s guess; they were thoroughly blackened by creeping mould.

A wiry, old man wearing a wife-beater and a green lungi let me into the grounds. Apart from him, not a soul seemed to breathe in the estate.  Despite the state of the property and the lack of staff, I tried to remain optimistic. After all, I thought, the website rated the place with three stars. Three stars are good enough for a dog, surely!

In the coming weeks, work kept me busy enough that I did not miss nor mourn LT’s absence. The only time I thought about him was when Annie would mention him, which she did often while she was cleaning. With some amount of dramatic woe she would suddenly pick up a rug and say, “It’s boring not having that little bugger around running around but at least the house doesn’t smell of number one anymore.” I would laugh, but that’d be it.

Till one Sunday, I was out the door on my way to the office. Having been unexpectedly called in, I was in a mood. So when Annie stopped me by the door and said, “I’m so glad I caught you, listen we must talk about Little Tyson baba. I went to visit him yesterday. I don’t like the place at all, I’m positively worried for the little fellow!” I snapped.

“Jesus Christ Annie, don’t you have something else to worry about? Your kids don’t need enough mothering or what? Relax about the dog okay? He’s fine, I know because I’m paying for it through my nose! How much more can I do!” She was a bit taken aback it was obvious, but with no time to fret about anyone else, I moved on quickly.

Later that week my boss was kind enough to give me a ride home. I was excited, having never spent much time with my boss outside of the office. It was certainly good for my career path to find an excuse to bond with him. So I steered our conversation towards LT and my benevolent role in his little life.

My boss seemed interested enough to spontaneously suggest, “Well, if this place is in Bandra, let’s go visit him, shall we?”  ‘Fantastic idea!’ thought I and gave him directions. So far, I had used every moment of the journey as a show-and-tell. Look how serious and intelligent I could be. We’d exchanged a few laughs and I was feeling elated. Was I using a puppy to further my prospects? I shrugged at the idea. So what?

Once again there was only the old man visible on the compound, this time in a maroon lungi. He was standing by the gate when we arrived in our car. “Hello I’ve come to see the little mixed breed dog, is he around back?” I said to the old man as he looked at me lazily. A funny feeling started to unfurl in my stomach, fear perhaps. “Yes, they’re all out back but you can’t go there. What does your dog look like? Tell me, I’ll get him for you.”

I described LT for him, “Black and white puppy, brown markings for eyebrows, floppy long ears. He’s very frisky, I’m sure you know him by now. Do you know which one I’m talking about?” He shrugged and went off without another word. My boss stepped out of his car; looking around while stretching his legs while I, leaned against the door waiting.

“So how did you find this place?” my boss asked looking on at the dilapidated white building curiously. 

“On the internet….” I replied while looking away. When the man came back, he had LT on a tight leash. Immediately the pup bounded towards me, yelping and howling; almost as if he was trying to relay a story.

My heart leapt into my throat upon seeing him. I realized I’d missed him more than I’d allowed myself to admit. 

I thought of Annie as he jumped into my waiting arms. His tail wagging and tongue ever ready to get in a sneaky lick of my faces. My boss seemed enthralled by him, and I felt proud of my dog.

Then the magic was shattered as he exclaimed, “Oh he’s covered in ticks!!” ‘What?!’ I thought, ‘How could he be, he’s in a three star motel!’ But indeed his little body had at least a million squirmy round brown insects stuck to it in various places. In some spots, more than one tick had gnawed on and was nestled in. Upon close inspection I saw other tell tale red bumps all over his belly and paws. Horrified, both of us moved away. Poor LT never knew why. He jumped back and forth between our horrified faces.

“Have you seen this before?” my boss asked, his face clouded in a judgmental mask. Speechless I shook my head, “No, actually this is the first I’ve had time to visit him, but this place has three stars! There must be some kind of mistake!”

“You must look into it, how irresponsible to just leave ‘it’ here...” He gestured towards LT, “Without checking the place out properly, I’m surprised at you!” I could feel his disapproval boring a hole through my head. Nodding I gathered little LT in my arms and a shudder ran down the length of my body as I thought of the insects that infested his. I walked towards the building, realising for the first time that I hadn’t even asked to see where he’d be kept.

The old man was promptly at the door before I could open it. “What are you doing? What did I say, you can’t come back here!” he shouted at me. Anger welled up inside me and I couldn’t take it anymore, I roared back; “What do you mean? Look at my dog.” I showed him LT’s belly, all the ticks latched on to its thin skin.

“How have you been keeping him? What is all this? I’ve been paying you good money to keep this dog safe. What kind of a person keeps a dog this way? Answer me!” I must been right at the top of the decibel range, because my boss came down the path to see what was going on. “What are you doing shouting at him like that?” He chastised me, “Can’t you see that he’s only an old man? If you have to ask anyone, ask the person who runs this place, haven’t you ever spoken to them?”

I had, once, on the phone. I had asked where I should drop LT. Dejectedly I apologized to the old man as my boss looked on at me in a mixture of, it seemed, pity and piousness. The old man, however, was not forgiving. “Get out! Get out right now with your mutt! I won’t be screamed at like this. I’ll tell the owners how you spoke to me. Go away right now!”

Not knowing what to do or what to say, I asked my boss for a ride home. He obliged on the condition that I keep LT in a cardboard box with a lid on it. He didn’t want any objectionable creatures to escape and ruin his leather seats. “Impossible to get rid of these things…” he muttered peevishly. Though as I found out later, quite rightly.

The ride home saw only a shamed silence. Any remarks from his end were disparaging and I knew better than to disagree with a man who signs my paychecks. “So irresponsible of you to just leave it there. I mean if you’re going to take a dog on, in Bombay, I’m not saying you should, with our schedules and all. It’s stretching yourself too thin. But if you want to, you must do it properly! I’m disappointed to say the least…” and so on, followed by silence on my part.

The building super saw me try to sneak LT in and gave me a dirty look, which I only acknowledged from the corner of my eye. I was playing ostrich I suppose, hoping not to be seen if I did not see. The rest of my night was spent bitterly cursing the super, the old man at the ‘dog motel’ and sometimes LT for he would squirm uncontrollably as I picked out the ticks from his body and drowned them into a waiting plastic mug.  Each tiny death rewarding me with brief snippets of control.

The next day, when my building super came and served me with a final notice, “Look I’m not a bad guy” he said, though I felt differently.  “These are the rules, I can’t break them for you. Please find a place for the dog. Either he goes or you both go!” I felt helpless and alone. I was at a complete loss now; it looked like little Tyson would have to go back to the animal shelter where he came from.

That weekend Annie came in as usual and upon seeing LT, she let out a shriek and started to play with him. They were so happy together that my dark mood stood out like a handful of thumbs. When Annie brought it up, I readily bawled out my plight.

“You were right about the kennel, I don’t know why I paid them,” I said to her. “I got him home last night, but already the building wants me to send him away, and I can’t find anyone to take him. The pound says they can’t keep him very long if he doesn’t find a home…and they say they’ll kick me out if I keep him here… and the truth is…I don’t want to go looking for another building…” 

Annie looked at me with gentle surprise and said, “Silly you are man! You’re worrying yourself over nothing! I told you my boys and I would love to have him! What could have changed?”

Tee-Ai-Ai

I wrote this screenplay for a friend of mine.. but I don't think he's gonna do anything with it so here it is..draft one...

YEH HAI MUMBAI

Setting: it's late in the evening, the camera opens up at the Colaba slums, near the railway tracks. There’s a line of women defecating on it. Somewhere in the background an old radio is playing "ai dil.. jeena kahan, zarah hut Kay.. zara bach kay... Yeh hai Mumbai meri jaan." 

There is a man crouched and hiding in the bushes and watching women defecating on the railway tracks, it's dark, he seems to be too busy to notice the sound of an approaching train. The song continues to play absentmindedly in the background as suddenly he is blinded by the light of the incoming collision. There is the sound of something being hit, the high pitched wailing of the train, camera pans out before too much detail is revealed and you see the non curious almost matter of fact faces of the defecating women- this isn't new to them. The song is playing "zarah hut kay..zarah bach kay.." Screen goes blank.

Roll credits on black screen, song fades out.

The screen becomes white and sort of fuzzy, as if it were the eyes of the person who has only just woken up. In the background there is the sound of two people- man and woman fighting. 

Man: "you're mad is what you are, how do I know where the maid is and why she hasn't come into work, maybe she got tired of your nonsense, I know I am"

Woman: " You’re a liar! After all these years you think I don’t know you and your habits? Can't keep it in your pants long enough to zip them up! She hasn't been coming for a few days now, I know it’s got something to do with you!! couldn't you at least leave the maid alone, bastard!"

A mobile phone rings with a decidedly western ring tone. You see the hand picking it up and the boy who has just woken up speaks in,

Boy: "Yo wazzaaap, nah just about surfacing now actually" 

he laughs as he listens to the person on the other end. 

Boy: "yeah man wicked night, I don't know if I can do a repeat- no energy or money I think," 

again he's quiet as he listens to the other side of e conversation. 

Boy: "yeah dude, maxed out my dads card yesterday buying champagne, had to yaar, there was Sonal Kapoor standing next to me, had to show her what's what right?" 

More silence and laughter as he listens to the boy on the other end. 

Boy: "yea maybe I could do a movie but a Bollywood movie bro? seriously?”

There is silence as the voice on the other end makes its point

Boy: “ok, ok, damn! alright, meet you there in an hour, laterz bro!"

Boy gets up off the bed, the room is filled with gadgets, it's large and with obviously expensive furniture over which clothes and other mess are strewn around.  The man and woman are still fighting in the background. 

Man: “I wouldn’t touch the maid, why would you even go there?”

Woman: “Please! I know men okay! The lower you have to go for your pleasures, the better you feel about it… just tell me alright!”

Man: “You’re a crazy person! I did not screw around with the maid! How should I know, maybe she ran away with those boys who used to come visit her!”

Woman: “Boys? How would you know huh? You’ve been watching the maid very closely..”

The boy rummages around for his jeans and upon finding them, digs deep for his wallet. It's empty. He makes an uncertain and unpleasant face and sneaks down the hall of apartment into his parents’ room. The apartment is also obviously expensive and well decorated. 

He checks to make sure the parents are still fighting and then with a practiced stealth takes out a wad of cash from the wallet lying on the dresser. 

Cut scene and the boy is standing in front of a movie theatre in Colaba with a group of friends- boys and girls - all of them expensively dressed and holding the latest cell phones etc. 

Boy 2: "damn dude you look scruffy" 

Boy: "man shut up, this is the worst idea, just look at this line, it's a huge line, we'll be here for another hour or so at least!"

Girl "I know right and why this hall..." she looks around the area with a crinkled nose, "why can't be go watch X-Men or something in the IMAX," 

Boy: "yea dude I hate waiting in line, this is going to be ages..."

Boy 2 (checking out boy from head to toe, noting his scruffy attire and grinning with not uncertain malice: "so mom finally fired the maid eh? Too bad, she was cute,"

Girl (screws her face into a disgusted expression):"ew gross you're looking at maids now, how desperate are you… I mean she’s the maid man she probably smells!"

Camera pans out towards the colaba slum area- following the back alleys in fast motion and then slows down till we see in the frame, the running legs of young boys. There is the air of great excitement and a huge smile on the little boys faces as they’re running. 

[note to self: the dialogue for the slum kids is written in English and MUST be translated into Hindi later- with a mind to the slang they use]

Slum Kid 1: “Arrey Amar!” 

The camera moves to show a young boy, about seventeen years old, standing by a water pipe which is gurgling out water in spurts. In front of the pipe, there is a line of some fifty women, some children sitting in a daze or crying and pulling at their mothers. The women look tired, they are all holding one haanda each. In the background there is conversation about where to find work. The women are speaking about the new constructions in Bombay- flyover, sealink, roads etc that they are helping build. The woman right in front fills her haanda and then says to the women behind her, 

Slum woman 1: “Try and keep my place okay, I’m going to go put this back home and i’ll come back for the second haanda. Won’t be longer than half an hour for me to get home, but please try...” 

The other woman looks at her in irritation. 

Slum woman 2: “What do I look like your servant? I spent all day working on the flyover and now you want me to wait for you too? No, ask someone who has the time to care, I don’t, I have my own problems,” 

She indicates towards a crying, half naked baby sitting by himself towards the side. The baby is sitting on a pile of trash; playing with a bunch of empty Coke cans and covered in mud.

Amar: “Both of you just shut up now, everyone has to wait in line for themselves, those are the rules don’t you know? Now hurry up Kalavati, or else I won’t even let you buy the water, you hear me?” 

Both women immediately see, afraid and exchange quick looks. Kalavati fills her handa and goes away, three little kids following her down the alleyway. 

The Slum kids gather around Amar and thwap his back 

Slum kid 1: “You showed her whose boss huh? Naikbhai will be so proud!”

Amar: (laughs) “We will see we will see, now then, what do you kids want?”

Slum kid 2: “You promised we would go watch Rang de Basanti today, remember? we are ready! , lets go lets go, you promised we would go to see the Rang de Basanti, lets go, lets go, the last show starts in an hour..””

Amar laughs again, he is a confident, almost cocky looking kid. “I did didn’t I? I have some work here though, can’t just leave can i? can’t you see?” 

An old woman wearing a tattered suit is walking around the water pipes, she’s mumbling something to the people standing in line and while most of them speak to her normally, she catches Amar’s attention and he pushes some of his friends aside in order to go over to her. 

Amar (while watching the old woman speaking to another woman towards the middle of the line) “Just watch the pipe for me, just one minute ok...” 

Old woman (speaking to the people in line): “Have you seen my daughter anywhere, Padma, you know her right? Of course you do, she grew up here only, she went to get water two days ago and hasn’t come back since...” 

The people in line are exchanging looks but no one offers any explanation or answers to the old woman. 

Amar: “Oi, old woman, why are you irritating these good people when they’re trying to go about their day eh? What do you want?”

Old woman: “Amar beta, you know me, you know Padma, Padma is missing, please help me, she came to get water here a few days ago, hasn’t been back home since...”

The woman breaks down into tears, her wailing is mostly ignored by the people passing by. Amar begins to look uncomfortable and then his face hardens.

Amar: “Yea I know Padma, but it seems to me old woman, that you don’t know your own daughter! everyone here knows she probably ran away to be kept by that rich boss of hers... check under your mattress, maybe she left you pity money!” 

The old woman is stunned into silence for a moment, the people standing around look at each other but no one says anything; the slum kids are laughing in the back. 

Old woman: “Shut up shut up, why are you spreading these lies about Padma, she isn’t even here to defend herself, my poor child, my poor hardworking good little girl, Why are you saying these untruths about her?” 

Amar: “Yeah, I know her, we all know her! why even Ramu here knows her better than you know her apparently, go away old woman before you get hurt or hear something you don’t want to. Just go, come on,”

and with that he herds her away even as she continues to protest. In the meantime, taking advantage of Amar’s distraction, some women are beginning to cut the line for the water tap. As he’s shuttling the old woman away, a fight breaks loose. The other slum kids start wailing, Amar’s friends are laughing. Amar runs back when he realises what is happening and breaks the fight apart.

Amar: (holding two women away from each other) “Stop this right this minute, fighting amongst yourself! GOD! neither of you can get water today, go on, get out of here!!”

Woman 1: “Arrey she’s the one who cut the line, how is this my fault, why are you penalising me Amar? You know my daughter is sick, I need water, her temperature is rising, she’s burning up, she needs water!”

Amar: “You should have thought of that before getting into this fight. If your daughter is sick, tell a doctor, don’t tell me, I’m not your uncle or even the dada of this area.. now go on get out the two of you”

Woman 1: “Arrey how hospital? I took her to the free government hospital, you know how they are! all the beds are taken! they have no time to see her and no room either and whose going to give me money for a doctor?”

Amar: “Well now you can’t get any water, so you’re saving that money, go on, go use it for the hospital”

He snatches the woman’s haanda from her hands and pours out the water on the ground. The women in line watch the wasted water with envy, tiredness and quiet distress. 

A group of foreigners led by an Indian man are walking about, they are on tour, are taking pictures of everything; with flash. The people look uncomfortable at first but then soon, kids start running around the foreigners and posing for pictures.

Indian Tour guide (In English): “and this is Colaba slums, these came up during the 1970s, during a wave of migration into Bombay, people came from villages to find work...but the government didn’t construct housing at the time; some say to control this same migration. As you can see, it didn’t work. Now these people are largely ignored by the government, though the slums have seen over 40 demolitions, mostly without notice to any of the residents living there,”

One white guy goes closer to the tap where the women are queued up and Amar and his friends are standing watching the tour. He has a large bottle of mineral water in the side pocket of his backpack. One small child comes and lifts the bottle slowly. The foreigner shouts, the child runs but is caught by the Indian tour guide.

Indian tour guide (holding the boy from his arm as he struggles): “Oi boy, what do you think you’re doing,” 

He grabs the water bottle out of the child’s hand and gives it back to the foreigner who has a guilty look on his face.

Foreigner: “Never mind, let him have it...” 

Seeing what’s going on, Amar and his friends move closer to the tour group, they look a bit angry but before anyone can do anything, a big beefy looking guy walks into the frame. 

Big Guy: “Oi Amar, Naikbhai wants to see you, you have the count for today? He’s in a mood, so I hope you managed to make some decent money!”

Amar looks worried; he purses his lips into a single line and nods in a serious manner. Turning towards his slum kid friends he says: “Ok listen you guys go on to the movie theatre, I’ll come in a bit.”

He takes out a hundred or so from the pockets of his shorts and hands it to one kid. 

Amar: “Get my ticket also, I’ll be right behind you.”

The kids cheer and disperse towards the theatre. 

Amar: “Acha ok Bhagwati, watch these people for me will you?”

The beefy guy nods and stands by the water pipe now and Amar makes his way towards Naikbhai’s offices.

Naikbhai’s “office” is a small room with a brown door with a giant lock on it. In front of which stands a wooden desk and a chair on which sits Naikbhai. He’s surrounded by goons and a large Rotweiler is lying on the floor sleeping. There is a single exposed bulb hanging from the ceiling, there’s more shadows than light in the room. He is smoking a Marlboro with one hand and is petting the dog with the other hand. 

Amar: “Yes Naikbhai, you asked for me?”  

Naikbhai: “Did I ask for you, did i? Yes, I think I did;” 

He stubs his cigarette out on the desk with a controlled violence. Amar looks nervous and shifts his weight between his legs. 

Naikbhai: “How much did I make today? Tell me, give me the cash,” 

Amar nods and hastily hands a wad of cash to Naikbhai who then counts the amount, holding each note deliberately. The notes are small, (5 rupees, 10 rupees) tattered and dirty. He laughs as he counts.

Naikbhai: “See this, the cleanest bloody money in India... you know why?” 

Amar shakes his head, he’s looking at the floor and standing at heel.

Naikbhai: “It’s the money of hard working people, manual laborers, the people who build this city you know, I mean really build it, from ground up. Or at least it used to be their money... Now it’s mine!”

He cracks up laughing and Amar joins in hesitantly. Then Naikbhai gets silent, he’s giving Amar a suspicious look. He gets up from behind the desk and walks over to Amar. Standing over the boy in an intimidating manner.

Naikbhai: “The count is correct isn’t it? You know what happens to people who try to jip me..”

Amar swallows nervously. “Yes Bhai, of course, you know I wouldn’t ever do that, me jip you, how can that happen? I would never. Count again if you like.”

Again Naikbhai laughs, a booming laughter and smacks Amar hard on the back; as if in jest.

Naikbhai: “Arrey Amar, I was just joking yaar, joking you know? jokes?” 

Then he gets a serious look on his face again and walks back to the desk and towards the door behind it. He opens the door while saying,

Naikbhai: “but just to be certain, let me show you what happens to people who piss me off...”

The door opens to reveal a dimly lit closet-room with a single bed in it. On the side is a bucket on which hover flies and mosquitoes. There is a small water bottle by the side of the bed. On the bed, tied and gagged lies a naked and bruised body of a young woman with terrified eyes and a face streaked with blood and tears. She sees Amar and there is a look of recognition that passes between them, She tries to speak and struggle, but she’s obviously hurt and weak. Naikbhai laughs and shuts the door. Amar looks visibly shaken.

Naikbhai: “She deserves it, thought she was too good for you didn’t she?!” 

Amar simply nods, he starts looking at the exit door nervously and continues to shift his weight between his legs. 

Naikbhai: “Chalo, see you tomorrow,” 

He ruffles Amar’s hair in a gesture of affection and Amar looking grateful to be let go, runs out into the alley and throws up a few feet away, behind a dumpster, so as not to be seen, behind Naikbhai’s house. He then cleans his mouth with his hand and shrugs and starts to walk away from the house and presumably towards the movie theatre. 

Cut back to the movie theatre and waiting there in line are the Rich boys & Girls, while a few places behind them Amar’s slum kid friends are also standing; being excited and rowdy. The Rich boys and girls are watching them with both discomfort and a kind of irritation. The girls move closer towards the boys they are with. 

Girl: “That’s it, I’ll have to sit with them, ugh, I bet they smell, told you we should have gone to IMAX.”

Just then Amar comes up and joins his friends in the line. He is quiet and looks disturbed. His friends are however boisterous and start pushing him around. The Rich Boy is watching the group of slum kids curiously.

Boy: “You know I think that that guy has come to my house before...” nodding towards Amar.

Boy 2 (sarcastically) : “Oh you’re friends?”

The Boy gives Boy 2 a disgusted look and snorts as if that were a preposterous idea.

Boy: “Don’t be ridiculous dude, I mean I think he came to see my maid once or twice... I wonder if he knows where she is....”

Boy 2: “Aw, the baby is missing his maid servant, why don’t you go ask him about her, she may be missing you too...!” 

Boy gives Boy 2 a shove, not rough just enough to make him stumble back a bit.

Boy: “Missing the maid! Ha as if! You’re an asshole dude...”

Cut to a shot of a small hut, there is blue plastic for its roof and no door so one can see inside clearly. 

Sitting inside is the old woman from before. Her eyes are closed and she is praying silently. In front of her is a tattered picture in an old silver picture frame, it’s sitting in the squalor of dirt with a string of fresh and bright orange marigolds adorning it. The picture is of the girl that Amar saw in Naikbhai’s house. In the picture though, she is smiling and looks faraway but happy. 

THE END