He gestured for her to leave the room. It was Meera, without a doubt, albeit a different Meera. Her diction and accent had changed considerably, her singing much more sophisticated than he recalled. The voice had remained the same, but the person had changed, he reckoned. By the time the song ended, Abhimanyu was transported to another time. A simpler, innocent time. He realized how much he had changed since the accident, and since Meera’s departure; it dawned upon him that things would never be the same again. He couldn’t bear to listen to her voice, and yet he wanted more. The announcer on the radio mentioned that it was a song from a new film. He rushed out of his brother’s quarters to look for Penaru. Before sunrise, the valet was on his way to Bombay in search of a record of a movie soundtrack – Sarhad.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The reversal was complete – Bombay had done the trick. Meera, the struggling artist with lofty dreams had reached the stratosphere, and the prince of Ranakpour, Abhimanyu Singh, had been ground to dust. High society parties that Abhimanyu had once snuck Meera into were now deemed insignificant if the star singer was not in attendance.

After her meteoric rise since the success of Sarhad, and with fame and fortune seeking her out, Meera was finding it hard to stay tethered to her middle-class upbringing. Stalwarts she had idolized were now hounding her to join their upcoming projects. One particular film producer showed up at the front door of her new three-bedroom house in Cumballa Hill to offer her a five-year contract – an arrangement that was unheard of in those days. She would have to lend her voice to each and every film he produced for the duration of the contract. When Meera was unable to come up with a number for her fee, he placed a blank piece of paper on the center table of her living room. ‘When you’re ready, feel free to write down any amount you have in mind,’ he said, and left.