Where You Come From

Synopsis: 

Part #1: Rising film star Mindy Bedi’s whole world turns upside down when her so-called ‘ex’, Kanishk Arora, aka Nishi, turns up in Bombay. As it turns out, Kanishk is working as a screenwriter with the director of Mindy’s upcoming films, Arjun Kukreja, and producer Jeetu Sodhi. In fact, he has signed a three-film contract, with more to come, with Jeetu’s company. Turns out that Mindy left Nishi years ago when they were in a relationship and living together as students at DU. She left without a word when he was not home, just packing up her stuff. She just left him a note, saying, “I’m leaving. I’m sorry. Don’t look for me.” Four years later, Nishi meets her at the nightclub in Lower Parel--and they restart their torrid relationship. Their relationship is unique—while they do all the things couples do—date, live together, be exclusive, gift each other cute things, hang in public together—their bond goes deeper—it’s very strong. They are very strongly attracted to each other. Mindy, specifically, is attracted to Nishi and finds him incredibly sexy. He is attractive in a rugged-yet-sophisticated way, in the way Punjabi men are, dark, tall, and slender, with a deep voice, intelligence, smartness, and talent, and, like her, a professional work ethic. Nishi is in love with Mindy to the point of madness. Initially, when he forgives her for leaving and allows her back in his life as if nothing happened, his feelings manifest as his reciprocating Mindy’s feelings of a strong attraction and his finding her sexy as well—her skin color, her feistiness, her love of reading and TV series, and her intense sexuality. Mindy openly hangs out with Nishi after their reunion, taking him to parties and taking mini-vacations with him to surrounding hill stations and resorts. This makes the man she was sleeping with before Nishi came—Adil Hussain—incredibly jealous. Turns out that Adil is engaged to his girlfriend, rich, spoilt brat Miriam Khan, who is also friends with Mindy, Lena, Natasha, Arjun, and Natasha. Miriam is away in Paris, shopping for the wedding, and she knows Adil and Mindy are hanging out together and doesn’t object—but they sneak around behind her back. Mindy, already feeling guilty for sleeping with Adil, who is handsome, refuses to entertain him after Nishi arrives, telling him she is committed to him and won’t date anyone else, and treats him as a co-star, as they are doing a film together. Adil refuses to give up, his ego hurt, and this leads to some hostility between them, which the other cast and crew pick up on and leak to the tabloids. Shockingly, a few weeks later, Adil disappears. Days later, his decomposing body is found in a forest on the Mumbai-Pune highway. Sam Rodriguez, who has just been made ACP, investigates the case but, after many promising leads, runs into dead ends.

Part #2: Gerald ‘Gerry’ Menendez is a film journalist and writer, the author of bestseller non-fiction on Bollywood trends and rising stars. Turns out he and Mindy had briefly dated when she first came to Bollywood and he interviewed her for the magazine he was then writing for. Now, he takes Mindy’s consent to do a book on her rapid rise in Bollywood—the work is tentatively titled Where You Come From. Then Gerald suddenly starts pestering her again for sex, and she refuses. He once even tries to come on to her when she visits him at home, refusing to take no for an answer, and Mindy runs away, but not before she hits him, abuses him verbally, and promises to out him as a predator if he ever tries to force himself on her again. Gerry, unable to take the no and the jolt to his ego, threatens her with rape. But Mindy doesn’t tell Nishi anything. A few days later, Gerry goes missing too, which is noticeable because his work on Mindy’s career involved chapters on her upcoming films and involved her directors and producers. Days later, Gerry’s body is found near the railway tracks in Thane. Again, Sam investigates, and again, he hits a dead end. There are no leads in Gerald’s case, except for one striking, chilling similarity—the same pattern of knife wounds and the same type of purported knife as the murder weapon was found in Adil’s murder too. Sam knows the killer could be the same person, but he has no suspects or leads.

Part #3: Rishikesh ‘Ricky’ Mehra was Mindy’s first boyfriend in Mumbai, not to mention he was the man who gave her the much-needed ‘break’ in Bollywood and directed her first feature film. Even after their much-public affair and break-up—which was by mutual consent—Mindy likes Ricky and keeps in touch with him, even as he asks for her feedback on debutante female actors he auditions. Mindy especially likes Ricky because when the tabloids tried to vilify her for dating him at the time he was separated from his wife, with whom he later reconciled, Ricky stood by her, defended her, and used his contacts in the entertainment media to give her positive publicity and make her look good. Ricky wants to direct Mindy in a film again. Things have gone to the point where they have discussed the script, shortlisted possible male leads and supporting actors, and even negotiated Mindy’s fee. But on the day she comes to sign the contract, she learns that the film has instead gone to Ricky’s wife’s sister, a starlet, who, as it turns out, Ricky is sleeping with. Mindy is hurt but finds it in her best interest to say nothing. She confides in Arjun, who is directing her as the lead in his own film, and Lena. While Lena invites Mindy to stay with her and Arjun in their apartment, inviting Natasha and other girlfriends over at times so they can eat and bitch about Ricky and his scandals, and Natasha exposes Ricky as a liar, con artist, and philanderer, Arjun gets Jeetu to offer Mindy a three-film contract with his production house—which Jeetu does. A few weeks later, Ricky’s dead body is found in the marshes outside of Wadala, with the same knife wound pattern and same purported weapon as found by forensics, spurring rumors in the media of a serial killer, a story that Lena herself sets out to investigate.

One Chapter: 

Mindy

“I can handle my brooze, fanks!”

“Yeah, I can see that. You just reinvented the English language, girl.”

“Jop studging me. Wait. Did I say that right?” I ask, shaking my head. As if that would be enough to shake off the fog of alcohol already taking over my mind. I am sober enough to know I’m slurring and drunk enough to be slurring.

Good god. Get a grip. 

“Mindy, babes, you can stop with the alcohol for now,” Nutty says, gently easing the half-filled glass of Scotch away from me.

“No…I don’t want to…give it back to me,” I protest, reaching out to grab it.

“No, Mindy, no,” Nutty says, shaking her head, sliding the glass further away.

“Why not?”

“Why would be a better question. Why do you want to get drunk and be tabloid chow for tomorrow’s front page?” she asks.

“Because he is here,” I half-snarl, half-stage whisper to her.

“He who?”

“Nishi,” I reply, pointing to another corner of the room. A man stands there, dressed in a white shirt and black jeans ripped at the knees, his hair pulled back with gel. His name is Kanishk Arora.

“First of all, please stop pointing, I know who Kanishk is. And why is he causing you to make a fool of yourself?” she asks.

“Because. Because. Well. Because. He is my ex. Or was my ex. No, is my ex. Because ex is the was, right?”

“Ex is the was, yes. So, he was your ex? When? How? Why?” she asks, dragging her seat closer to mine and whispering her question in my ear.

“It’s a long story. And I have a question: What the hell is he doing here? What if we run into each other? But right now, I don’t want to answer either of those questions…I just want to drink and forget all sense. If I act like an idiot, at least I won’t remember it. Or why.”

I literally saw him like five minutes ago. At first, I thought I was seeing things, already having had a couple of drinks in me. But then, when I looked hard enough, he was still there, talking to people. Leaving the party isn’t an option, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by asking another guest about him—so I went for the only viable option—booze and the resulting oblivion.

“Really? You prefer being tabloid fodder rather than confront your ex?”

Obviously. I would have dealt with the questions later. What is he doing here? Why can’t I be more chill on seeing him? Why all the guilt? And why does he still make me act this way?

“Yes! Now give me back that glass!” I say, reaching my hand out again. Nutty puts a hand on mine to stop me.

“No. You wanted to avoid him, you should have just told me. This isn’t the way. Michael?”

“Yes, madam?” replies the bartender, who has a Mohawk, an eyebrow ring, and is dressed in a white shirt, black trousers, and waistcoat, looking up at her as he deftly mixes a drink.

“Take this away. And no more drinks for Mindy madam.”

“Done, madam,” he replies with a nod, whisking the glass off the counter with the same deftness with which he was mixing lime water with rum.

“This is gonna be a disaster, Nutty. You just brought on a disaster!”

“No, babes, I just averted one! We cannot have you on the front page for the wrong reasons right now!”

“What if he sees me? I’ve managed to avoid him for this long, but what if he sees me?”

“You don’t worry, babes. We’ll take care of it,” she says, patting me on the shoulder.

“How, Nutty, how exactly are you going to take care of this?”

“I’m sorry, take care of what?”

I freeze. I can recognize that voice anywhere, and right now, it’s next to my ear. That dulcet tone, those accentuated vowels, that velvety baritone—all of which can make any woman wet. And I can smell his cologne—the one he has always liked.

I dare not lift my head up. I stare at my knees. Time seems frozen.

“Hi, Nishi!”

I look up now, because it’s Nutty who has spoken. She is looking at Kanishk and smiling. As if the conversation never happened.

“Hi, Nutty. I just came to refill my drink and couldn’t help overhear you lovely ladies. What are you planning to take care of?”

“Er, um, Mindy has a stomachache,” she says.

My heart is in my throat. I want to slink away like a shadow. Or, if the earth were to open up its maw, just jump into it. There is a bitter taste at the back of my throat. I might throw up.

“Oh.”

I feel his gaze settle on me. There is a tingling on the back of my neck. There’s no avoiding it now, I guess.

I look up. There he is, staring at me with those intense brown eyes. The very same eyes I got lost into for hours when we made love in his rooftop apartment in Delhi.

“Hello, Mindy. It’s good to see you again. Do you need an antacid?”

“Er, um, hello, Kanishk. It’s good to see you too. Um, yes, about the antacid…I’m not sure.”

“Do you two know each other?” Natasha asks.

“Yes. We, uh, we were in adjoining Master programs at DU.”

Right. We took a common class, Filmmaking. By the end of the first class, we were friends, and by the end of the third, lovers.

“Oh, so you are friends.”

“Yes. Mindy was the best student in her class. Reading about her success now, I always knew she’d make it.”

Oops, that hurt. 

He knew alright. That’s the root cause of my current dilemma.

“It’s really good to see you again, Nishi.”

Before I realize it, I am standing up, and my arms are around him, my face nuzzled in his shoulder.

“Oh, um, same here, Mindy,” he says, putting one arm around me.

“There is a private lounge in the back. Meet me there in 10. We need to talk,” I whisper in his ear. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the sudden rush of old emotions rising to the fore as the past melts away. I don’t care if I end up on the front page of the Mirror tomorrow. Whatever happens next, I want it to happen.

“Okay. I want to talk too,” he whispers back, sending a thrill down my spine.

“Wow, it’s looks like you two were really good friends. Hey, Nishi, let me hold your drink so you can hug her properly,” Nutty says, highlighting how farcical the situation is. I would have laughed had I not been in the middle of it.

“Er, um, thanks, Nutty,” he says, and, within seconds, his arms are around me, and he is pulling me closer. His hands roam my back in a way that suggests his feelings mirror mine. It’s almost as if the past never happened. I breathe him in, sense memories stirring up a storm inside me. I feel his breath in my ear. His shirt has enough buttons open to give me a tantalizing glimpse of his chest hair.

“You sure you don’t need an antacid for that stomachache,” he asks, when we break apart. I am so glad that this isn’t awkward—yet.

“I…um…it’ll be fine, I think.”

“Did you have several drinks without eating something first?” he persists. I don’t have the heart to tell him my stomach is fine.

“Er, yes, I did. I know, it’s not good, but sometimes I forget.”

His face—his handsome face, with the arched eyebrows, the wide forehead, the beaked nose, the full lips, the pointed jaw—breaks into a smile, which makes him look even more appealing. I sometimes wonder why he didn’t become an actor.

“You are the same old, careless with your health. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“You are the same old too, coming to the rescue,” I reply, unable to believe how well this is going.

Maybe I shouldn’t have second-guessed him.

“Hey, where did you disappear off too? And who is this gentleman?” a voice breaks into my thoughts.

Oh shit. 

I look to my right, and sure enough, there’s Adil, my date for the evening, frowning. I realize my hands are still around Kanishk’s arms, and I drop them to my side.

“Hey, no, I just wanted a drink. This is Kanishk, my friend from grad school.”

“Nishi—Kanishk—is now writing the script for Bombay Booze, Adil. He has just joined Solaris Films as a screenwriter and creative consultant.”

Oh, so now the dots connect. Nutty’s husband, Jeetendra ‘Jeetu’ Sodhi, is a producer who founded and owns Solaris Films, a prominent production house. The previous screenwriter dropped out of the project because of ‘creative differences’, and the project was on hold for a while because the script wasn’t complete and needed to be modified. Nishi was studying screenwriting at DU—that’s been his dream job since always. His work at Solaris means he’s going to be in Bombay for the time being.

Adil, on the other hand, is the lead character in Bombay Booze, a crime thriller, which was supposed to be his debut film, while he has started work on another film already. I am playing a supporting role in BB, which is how I met him.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sandhu.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Hussein,” Nishi says, shaking his hand.

“Jeetu wants to announce his coming onboard and the restart of the shooting today, right here, Adil. That’s the reason we had all three of you invited to the party,” Nutty says.

“Oh. That’s good to know, Nutty. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Sandhu,” Adil says, staring at him. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s weird.

“Same here, Mr. Hussein. Actually, why don’t you call me Nishi, since we will be working together?”

Adil used to be a famous model before he got his Bollywood ‘break’. That’s how Nishi must know his last name.

“Nishi it is. Call me Adil, then.”

“What are you all doing here? Jeetu is looking for you all. He wants to make the announcement before everyone gets too drunk to be in their right minds,” a new voice joins our motley crowd.

“AJ, my man!” Nishi says, and the two men embrace in a one-armed hug ending in Nishi lightly patting AJ’s upper arm. AJ is Arjun Kukreja, my friend and my director. He happens to also work with Solaris, and apart from directing Adil and me in BB, he is also directing me as I play the lead character in my second Bollywood film, his seventh as director.

It was AJ’s idea to start shooting BB as the script was developing—an idea that seems to be catching on in B-town these days. We are doing something similar for my film, and it’s a fun process with a lot of improvisation, where even the actors get to participate in the story development.

"Hey, Nishi. Have been wanting to catch up with you all evening. I am borrowing you right after the announcement. My wife wants to meet you.”

“Oh, she is here?”

“Yeah. She never misses a party with Benizens and booze.”

“Then she is a true Bollywood wife. I wanna meet her.”

I feel Adil come and stand next to me, his hand on my arm. If this is a proprietary thing, it’s offensive, and I want to violently jerk his hand off and ask him to stuff it. But I can’t, because I don’t want to make a thing of it in public.

“Done. You’re having dinner with the rest of us. Come on, guys, Jeetu is waiting.”

Everyone, led by AJ, walk towards the front of the disco, where Jeetu, his tall, robust form clad in a dark suit, is standing on a podium and talking to another man. Adil is still next to me, trying to come between me and Nishi. I again suppress the urge to tell him two things:

He cannot be a possessive A-hole—I’m not his girlfriend. We aren’t even dating.He definitely cannot show it in public.

I crane my neck backwards to sneak a glance at Nishi, and almost immediately, he does the same. I think my feelings show on my face, because he nods his head, as if asking for patience.

Just then, Jeetu starts talking, and he is calling out my name, then Adil’s, inviting us to join him on the podium. AJ and Nishi join us, as does Mira Kapoor, the leading lady. She comes to stand next to Adil and puts her hand on his arm. I notice Vicks Saluja, the supporting male lead, standing to Jeetu’s left.

“I think we are supposed to stand together, Adil,” she whispers loud enough for me to hear, and Adil finally lets go of my hand and shifts close to her. Relieved, I beckon Nishi to stand next to me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I, Jeetu Sodhi, am very happy to announce that the shooting of our film, Bombay Booze, is resuming next week,” Jeetu’s voice booms around the disco.

This proclamation is followed by loud applause. Once it dies down, he resumes.

“And now, I must introduce you to the stars of this to-be blockbuster, including our new screenwriter, Mr. Kanishk Arora!”