Meera constantly hoped that she would get used to this new way of life. But the truth was she never did. She didn’t see herself breathing the same air as the power players of Bombay. The imprint of Sahil’s assault was burnt on her brain and played tricks with her conscience. Despite being the victim of male entitlement, she felt like she had escaped scot-free. She had walked out of his studio as soon as the last verses of the film had been sung, and that was that. He had made no attempt to contact her ever since. Instead, he would shower her with praise in media interviews, which Meera found too hard to read, and when she did, she would interpret his statements as veiled threats directed towards her. For her own part, she had decided not to talk about Sahil at all. She would politely turn down any conversation that would lead to her discussing the composer. Still, Meera always felt as though there was a target on her back. That at any moment, there would be a tap on her shoulder, and the ugliness would rear up and grab her by the throat, bringing her down from her pedestal. She had all the fame and acclaim she had dreamt of, but just couldn’t enjoy it in peace. Such was her consternation about being swept away in her newfound success that she always kept her first audition’s script in her purse – The surest way to a man’s heart – and checked the piece of paper several times a day to remind herself of her humble beginnings, and acknowledge that it could all end in a whim of some tabloid drama.

There were upsides – she couldn’t deny that. Kamal had become her manager, happy to leave his dead-end job and be close to his sister in the big bad world of Hindi cinema. Veena, her elder sister could now afford to work part-time at the bank and dedicate more time to their mother as her primary caretaker. Meera could finally afford to pay for better treatment for Kamladevi – a team of doctors were at her beck and call.

With their financial situation having vastly improved, life’s simple pleasures were the ones Meera enjoyed the most. She didn’t have to think twice before ordering another round of nariyal paani at the beach, or having a cook at home. One of the first things the Apte family did was stop collecting the receipts of every purchase. Not long before, it was an exercise that helped them tally their monthly expenses and calculate if they had any savings. Now, the joy of dumping receipts was liberating.