This post is written as part of Blogging from A to Z challenge.
B for Blurred image
I am a rising star in that place called the film industry in Mumbai. The psychiatrists who self-appointed themselves as my close associates have proved that I lose my memory in lapse. At least, this is what they keep telling me. I was acclaimed last year by the film awards and labelled as part of the young brigade that will change the face of cinema.
Am I really that guy they are leading me to believe? I have serious doubt. Those press clippings, videos, interviews and rumours of hook-ups with some chicks…can’t it be constructed by them as part of a conspiracy to make me a pawn in their game of chess? Is Sanjana Singh for real? She claims to be my steady girlfriend. A pop singer, she calls herself and that’s her claim to fame. How I hate it when she holds my hand and caresses my face. Oh!! This baby thing she says by making pout faces…I just wanna kill her.
A tale of blurred image, constructed by film folks, the producers, financers and Sanjana, pumping hot iron in my brain that I am a celebrity. Damn it! She is so fake. I am pretty sure that she is plotting to kill me.
I need to get out of this huge space where I only speak to the white coated walls in this huge duplex at Andheri. I need to run away from here and walk on the crowded street to eat something at the stall. I don’t feel like waking up at all for some idiot will bore me to death and narrate to me some of my own tales. At least, this is what they say!! The soul that I am or has become is fed up of visitors thronging and journalists asking me some stupid questions, ‘How are you coping with memory loss?’
I sneak out of the apartment and smartly avoid the security guys downstairs, snuggling on the luxurious couch and crimson cream tiles. I almost slip and dash out like a kid running away from parents.
My heart is beating frantically. I feel like an ailing patient storming on the street in Mumbai. It’s a mad, mad city. The frenzy and maddening crowd, cars and buses going berserk as they almost dash their way into each other yet handled with a maven’s hand. Wow! It’s amazing.
Run!! Run!! Mister!! A voice tells me. I don’t have the heart to turn my gaze towards the loud voice and sprint my way on the busy street, avoiding to crash on cabs and jump on the deck of vehicles at one stretch, doing a somersault. Their cuss words find no echo inside my head as I sprint my way inside out moving trains at the railway station before storming out. I run short of breath.
I hear the voice again, ‘Blurred image. The formula has time and again proven to be successful. No point running away from me. I am your shadow and follow you everywhere. Deconstructing the blurred image inside your brain by splitting into tiny parts, like a Mathematical formula. Hey, dude, you were never good at it. Forget it.”
I turn around and seethe with anger. I lash out and deplete my vocabulary of expletives on this moron. Bingo! He has already disappeared out of thin air. There is no one but a huge crowd thronging to have a peek at me. I can hear voices, “That’s him!! Yeah, this M-Town superstar…You haven’t read the news or what…Yes! He has gone mad.”
A young girl, dressed in school uniform, toggles with her hair who looks more like an adult than anything, flashes her smile by showing her shining teeth and looks almost like the Colgate model on TV. “No one is here. Is anything wrong? You can tell me. I will help you. It’s all about blurred images in your mind. I know something about it. This year, I will take Psychology in my first year. Please do not get mad at me.”
She is too sweet. I don’t have the heart to berate her. Perhaps, yes, it’s blurred image raging inside my mind.