If the gathering at the koliwada proved that Sahil thrived in the hubbub of uproarious street music, the next morning showed Meera a different side to him. Unhappy with the arrangement, he had stripped down the orchestra by half – the producers had been footing the bill for a bunch of musicians who did not end up playing a single note for the soundtrack. This minimalist approach also meant that Meera’s voice would now have to carry the weight of his compositions. Buoyed by her experience of singing in Danpada, Meera finally came out of her shell and gave it her best shot. Years of waiting for the right stage did not hold her back or make her nervous; she was completely focused on the task at hand and felt that it was meant to be. They recorded the title song four times. Four times of hitting every note precisely and getting the right tone, exercising perfection to the point that if one were to play the four recordings back to back, it would have sounded like an LP on a loop.

But Sahil wasn’t impressed. Every time Meera sang the last note, he would look restless. After the fifth try, he threw away his notes and addressed the musicians.

‘Thank you everyone, we are done for the day. Meera, stay back,’ he said quietly.

The producers watching from across the glass went in to inquire about what was happening. Sahil curtly asked them to leave too. If their egos were bruised, it was hard to tell – anyone working with Sahil knew that he was going to have his way. Next, he turned to the technicians handling the controls on their soundboards.

‘Gentlemen, you as well. I’ll take it from here.’

Soon, Meera and Sahil were alone in the studio. She felt nervous and unsure. Was he going to yell at her and tell her that signing her for the film had been a mistake? She disliked the uncertainty, Sahil’s mercurial nature and his tendency to bully everybody into submission, but she couldn’t afford to lose her job. She took a deep breath and waited for him to speak.

‘Have you ever loved, Meera? So hard that it hurts?’

Meera was taken aback by his question and the hard tone of his voice. Where was this coming from, she wondered.

‘If you could point out where I am going wrong, I can work on it,’ she said, hoping Sahil would stick to the subject of her performance.

‘I am not here to give you constructive feedback. I want to know, have you ever waited for someone just to be told to go away? Have you felt your heart sink?’