Short fiction by Gulzar: A fading actress gets a rude proposal when a stranger visits her at home

The visiting card was clenched in the corpse’s fist at the time of the postmortem. That day too Charu ji had got up at 5.30 am as was her norm. But unlike her norm, she was more excited than usual. Like every day, she got dressed with care. She combed her hair and put a fine sprinkling of powder on her face to hide the wrinkles that gave away her age. Her dress, as always, gave ample evidence of her taste and temperament.

She used to tell Shivdutt, “See, even today when people look at me from the corners of their eyes they talk in hushed tones. They gesture to each other saying, ‘See, that’s Charulata walking past.’ If not for myself, I must live in a certain manner and style for the sake of my fans.”

Shivdutt was her cook.

That day when he went to her room in the morning, she was standing in front of the mirror and talking to herself. Seeing him there with the tray, she was a bit abashed. Shivdutt smiled to himself: the way Madam could blush, even at this age, was amazing! This coquettish air had slayed thousands of her ardent admirers in her younger days.

“A certain Gopaldas Mishra is expected to come and see me, Shivdutt. Please arrange some tea and snacks for him.”

“Who is he?” Shivdutt asked after a moment’s consideration.

“He’s a writer. He wants to write a book about me. He has sent me a letter.”

That day, there was a new spring in her step. Someone had thought of reaching out to her even though she had retired from the film industry so many years ago. In the early days, many journalists used to beat a path to this far-flung bungalow. After all, no one comes to Mahabaleshwar daily for no reason.

Charulata had ridden the wave of her “comeback” for a long, long time. Gradually, with the passage of time, the number of visitors began to dwindle. She was offered the roles of older characters, but Charu ji refused to accept them. Standing in front of the mirror, her chin raised at a certain angle, she had looked at herself often. There wasn’t a wrinkle on her neck. She could spot no sign of age on her face. She would often have conversations with herself. Her reflection in the mirror never said to her, “You are showing your age.”

Though Dr Sahni had in fact said to her after her first heart problem, “Look here, your heart can no longer take the burden you are putting on it. One day, the fuse will go off…”

“Had Singh sahab been alive…”

Shivdutt entered her room and announced that Mishra ji had arrived.

“Huh? Ahh, yes … Mishra ji.” Despite waiting for him, Charu ji was startled to hear the name.

“Seat him in the hall downstairs. I hope you have taken off the sofa covers.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“And have you switched on the chandelier?”

Shivdutt was perfectly aware of his responsibilities. Even now, he wanted to impress people with his Madam’s glory and fame. Once in a while, if a letter came from one of her fans, he would make sure to mention it several times in the bazaar.

As she was fastening the necklace, Charulata felt as though her neck had become thinner. Had it been a choker, perhaps she could have camouflaged it. But that choker had been sold quite a while ago. She had bought it for Rs 3,000 a long time ago, and it had been sold for Rs 30,000. Had Singh sahab been alive, he would never have let her sell it.

As Charulata came down the stairs, she looked like a character from the movies. It seemed as though someone would call out, “Start … Camera … Action!”

Mishra ji was inspecting some marble statues placed in the hall. In his hand, he held a notepad in which he had already made some notes. Seeing Charu ji, Mishra ji offered a very respectful “namaskar”.

“Please be seated.”

Suitably dazzled, Mishra ji sat down on the sofa. Such was the impact of Charu ji’s personality! For a long time, not a word escaped from Mishra ji’s mouth. Soon, Shivdutt appeared with a tray of tea, some sweets and savouries. Charu ji poured the tea.

“How did you get my address?”

“Goyal sahab gave it to me. He’s your manager in Mumbai.”

“Yes, Goyal is a very fine man. He has looked after my matters for many years. Even now, he takes care of several things for me. Here … have the tea.”

A long interval passed. Charuji began to speak again.

“I love my solitude. I have never cared for taking on too much work. Even when I had a line of producers at my door day and night, I never used to take on too many films. Even then, I used to run away to hide here.”

“Can I see your house?”

“Yes, certainly, come this way.”

Charu ji took him and paused beside the marble statues.

“I had got this pair from Italy. How difficult it was to get them here safe and sound! For many years, they were in my Mumbai house. You haven’t seen that house, have you?”

“No,” the answer was brief but the smile that accompanied it was long and leisurely.

As they crossed the verandah, Charu ji said, “We got this house constructed with a lot of love and care. How much I argued with Singh sahab – sometimes over the choice of stones, sometimes wood. These tiles were brought from Ban…