Juhi, a struggling actress in Bollywood. When she came Mumbai with tons of dreams, she was 18. Now at 25, she standing before her mirror she stared at the wrinkles under her
eyes. “Time was not a friend which healed all wounds, it was to murder youth. She left her home, man who loved her the most. Sacrificed, what she found between her and the dreams she was after. Dreams to be an actress.
But, it was not easy, she discovered that she was not an only pretty girl with perfect figure. Mumbai recieves these beauties every day in bulk. Yet, she was not hopeless.
She had embarked on an endless series of monotonous, thankless jobs. She was a secretary and receptionist and a short-order cook and a baby-sitter a model and a waitress an telephone operator and sales counter girl. Just until she got The Call.
But the call never came.
She had been used by Assistants and Casting Crew and Friends of Producer for Juhi needed a chance to appear on silver screen. And it was not possible unless you have extreme talent or you are ready to satisfy Producers, Directors, their Assistants, Casting Crew and studio executives. She was not talented …she was trying to satisfy instead.
Juhi’s bitterness grew.
She did occasional one-liners act, but they never led to anything. She looked in the mirror and read the Time’s message: “HURRY
* * *
Aryan, a superstar, almost all his films were block buster, it didn’t matter whether they had some storyline and power packed script. If only, Aryan was in, the film was gonna be a superhit.
Action, Romantic, Period, Comedy, Drama, all sorts of film. Every film a Super Hit. A boy who would sleep on Mumbai Central station’s waiting hall. The boy who would entertain toilet circuitary, the lowest category of audience had become a role model for everybody.
He played benefits and child hospitals and charity affairs. He had everything, a fleet of most expensive cars, two penthouse, two bungalow and a private island in South Africa, a team of chefs, drivers, butlar, pilot would travel with him.
But, Aryan was alone.
He always wanted to keep himself busy, not wanting to feel scary loneliness. He got a plenty of intimate friends but they were just nobody for Aryan.
Then. . . on a set, he met Juhi.
At first sight, he liked her and sent a personal note with a bunch of tulips to Juhi’s dressing room which had clear
invitation to be along for fun. Juhi tore the note and asked Aryan’s agent, not to repeat.
It had never happened before with Aryan, he was filled with restlessness, a yearning something he had never known. It was nameless, but was there. He went out with dozens of different girls and women, yet he was alone at the end of the day.
God had a game plan for them.
And soon, circumstances were such that they came closer and closer until finally they got married, for The Almighty sitting somewhere in the skies wanted it to be done. It was a storybook honey moon. Aryan and Juhi were flown in private jet to La Hadas, where they were the guests of PM at the fairyland resort. Aryan was never been so happy. He had found the woman to make him complete. He was no longer alone.
Aryan could have continue honey moon forever. But eager to get back to home. She was not interested in any of those luxuries nor was she impressed with natural scenic beauty around, she felt like a newly crowned queen, who kept away from her court. She was burning to go back to Bollywood.
Mrs. Aryan had scores to settle. . .
…to be cont’d