15 Days To Oblivion

10/20/2009 TUESDAY
21:03

When Rocky reached the studio, it was raining heavily. Shooting was to start in an hour or so; he was late. His belly had already started to ache. Entering the floor felt relieving. He untied his shoes which were wet and muddy, put on the sleepers, quickened his pace, reached the washroom and took a long awaited leak. The make up room was filled with people and chaos. Mirrors glistened with an array of white lights around them, mirrors that witness the real faces behind the makeup. A certain face looked up at the mirror. Seeing Rocky’s reflection, the face smiled nervously and greeted him.

“You are late. Mr. Chatterjee was searching for you. Where were you?”
“Stuck in the goddamn rain. Have you got your costume?”
The face nodded. No.
Rocky shouted in his usual voice. A shaky young girl rushed to the makeup room with a maroon gown in her hand.
“I have to say something to you.”
“Haven’t I told you to take care of these things…”
Rocky was busy checking whether the gown was ironed or not. The shaky young girl was still holding the gown as if she were a statue, on the verge of collapsing anytime. Rocky nodded without looking up.
“I have to say something to you. It’s weird, but I’m having this weird feeling…”

“Rocky!”
The makeup room froze for a moment. Make up artists who were chatting a second ago suddenly became busy giving the finishing touches.
“Rocky, where were you. Is everyone ready? Can we start the shooting?”
“Yes, Mr. Chatterjee. Just ten more minutes for Priya to wear the gown.”
“Hurry up now!”
As Mr. Chatterjee went towards the floor, the ice melted. Priya followed Rocky to the changing room. Rocky gave her the gown and was about to close the door behind him, when Priya grabbed him by the arm.
“This weird thing…I…I feel I’m somebody else!” Priya looked nervous; her eyes trembled as she spoke.
“Later! Mr. Chatterjee will be furious, if you are a second late. Now hurry up please!”
Rocky closed the door behind him and went towards the floor. The studio floor was dimly lit with lamps of varied colours; varied lampshades added to the gravity of the ambiance. Polished mahogany table and chairs, stools, bar counter, bar maid, bottles of various contours. It was a bar counter sequence.
“Somebody give me the damn script, where are my idiot assistants?!!”
Rocky remembered that he had seen the first assistant back at the store room searching frantically for a certain prop that he had kept there a day ago.
“Are we ready Shushovon? Can we take this shot?”
Budget constraint has been a boon to Shushovon.

Straight to Director Of Photography from Camera Operator.

“Yes Sir, I’m ready, let Priya come!”
Mr.Chatterjee looked towards Rocky. It was more of a scoff that meant that hadn’t it been for his incompetent assistants Mr. Chatterjee would have won the Oscars any moment.
The studio door opened with a shudder, a single light fell on a diamond stud and burnt white, and two stilettos came and rested near the camera.
“I’m ready, sorry Prakash…” Priya was professional.
Rocky studied her now that he had time to breathe. “Somebody else”, Rocky thought, what the hell was she trying to say? She was drunk, Rocky knew; alcohol can work wonders, he thought and laughed to himself. Yet Rocky had eyes of an observer.