Vikram Chandra - Sacred Games

For all his bright-eyed curiosity about the details of other people's adventures and agonies, that was all he could find to say about his mother. But I had only been trying to make family chat, a management technique I had learnt from Guru-ji. This Manu Tewari was comfortable enough now. It was time to get down to business. 'All right. So,' I said, 'let's talk about the story.'

He sat up straight then. When it came to work, he was instantly focused, that first time and always afterwards. 'Yes, bhai,' he said. 'Please tell me.'

We were sailing from Kata beach to Patong. In the late afternoon grey, the glassy sea slid beneath us. A towering cloud-bank hung over us to the east, still and perfect and unreal. I took a deep breath. 'I was thinking of a thriller,' I said.

'Yes, yes, bhai,' Manu said. 'Excellent. A thriller.'

'I like those films where there is some danger, and the hero has to avert the threat.'

'A suspense story. I like it, bhai.'

'The girl helps the hero, and they fall in love.'

'Of course. And we'll do an international thriller, so that the songs can be shot abroad with justification.'

'International thriller, yes.' I was starting to like the boy.

'Did you have any ideas about the hero, bhai? Who is he? An ordinary man? A policeman? A secret agent?'

'No. He's one of us.'

'You mean…?'

'It's a crime thriller.'

'Okay, okay. I see the story. The hero is on the wrong side of the law, but he was driven into the underworld by circumstances.'

'Yes. I want to start with him coming to Bombay.'

'Right, right,' Manu said.

But he was looking doubtful. 'What?' I said.

'In a thriller, bhai, there may not be enough time to develop his entire history.'

'Why? You have three maderchod hours.'

'True, true, bhai. But you'll be surprised how quickly three hours fill up. You have five, six songs, that itself is close to forty minutes. Then, you have space for maybe forty scenes before the interval, thirty, thirty-five afterwards. And a thriller has to start with the danger, tell the audience what they're supposed to be scared of, what is at stake, and then it should race to the finish. And also…'

'What?'

'The boy coming to Bombay, becoming a criminal. It's been done, in Satya . And Vaastav , that also had the introduction-to-the-underworld theme.'

'I don't care if it's been done. It's still true. Look at all these boys who are with me.'

'Of course, bhai. They have been telling me their stories. But, you see, the audience gets used to things. First time, they love it. Second time, they love it less. Third time, they say, "It's too filmi, yaar," and they reject the truth altogether. You see?'

I saw. I had done the same myself. 'The audience is a bastard,' I said.

At this he jumped up and clasped my hand. 'Yes, bhai, yes, the audience is a gaandu, it is a madman, it is a monster of a baby that must be fed.' He realized then that he was perhaps being a bit too familiar, so he let go of my hand and backed away. But his eyes were brilliant with sudden sympathy, and he couldn't stop himself from going on. 'Nobody knows what this maderchod audience wants, bhai. Everyone pretends, but nobody really knows. You can make a big film, spend and spend on publicity, and in the cinemas you won't even hear crows calling. Meanwhile, some B-grade, shoddily made film with no story to speak of will make a hundred crores.'

'But you still try to predict what they want. And you have all these rules. Why only forty scenes before the interval? Why not sixty?'

'Can't be done, bhai. The audience is unpredictable, but it is also very rigid. It wants only what it wants, in the way it is used to getting it. Even if you have a really dhansu story, if you change the shape of the story the audience will throw things at the screen, and tear up the seats, and riot. That's the thing, bhai. You have to do new things in old ways. Or old things fitted out in new clothes. Your film has to be hatke, but not too hatke. The art-film types keep saying they're doing new-new things, but they also have to obey the rules. It's just a different set of rules, and a different audience. You can't get away from the rules.'

'We're not going to make a maderchod art film,' I growled. I was going to spend thirty crores on this film. We had two big heroes signed up already, and Dheeraj had an appointment with Amitabh Bachchan's secretary the coming Tuesday. I had told Dheeraj also that I wanted fultu special effects, and first-class costumes and locations. I wanted the film to look glossy and big, it was going to be huge. And huge costs money, lots of it. I was doing this for Zoya, but I wanted my money back, at least that. 'You forget art,' I told Manu. 'You write one fast-moving thriller. Put something in every scene that makes this public feel like it has an electric wire connected to its golis. Keep them awake and excited. Give it to them, hard and fast.'

He nodded, up and down, fast. 'Yes, yes, bhai. I understand. Action and spectacle and big-big glamour.' He held his arms out wide. 'The emotion of Mother India , the scale of Sholay , the speed of Amar Akbar Anthony . That's what we want.'

That's what we wanted all right. So we got to work.

* * *

I continued my work for Mr Kumar's people. Mr Kumar had retired the year before, despite my protests. 'Saab, why do you have to go?' I'd said. 'In our business, there is no retirement except going upstairs.'

'Ganesh, my business is not your business.'

He was always like that, short and blunt. But he was not unkind, this wily old bowler who had played the game for so long. We were not friends, but over the years we had come to understand each other, and our mutual need. He needed me to extract threads of information from Kathmandu, and Karachi, and Dubai, and sometimes make certain people disappear, and I needed him to put pressure on policemen in Delhi and Mumbai, and supply me with information in turn, and help occasionally with logistics and resources. We had no illusions about each other, but we were comfortable, like neighbours who had grown older together. And I tried to tell him he was not old enough yet to take sanyas. 'Saab, if the government makes you retire just when you are at the top of your form, a fabulous khiladi like you, then the government is mad.'

'It's not just the government, Ganesh, I also want to sit and rest.'

'All right, saab, then sit in one place, and talk to me on the phone. Like a consultant, you know.'

He said, 'Work for you?' I could tell he was amused.

'Work with me.'

'No, Ganesh. I have done enough, and I am feeling tired.'

He was not being rude, and I did not feel insulted. 'But what will you do?'

'Read. Think. As I said, sit in one place.'

I knew from long experience that he would not be persuaded by arguments or temptations, and so the discussion was closed. 'All right,' I said. 'It has been good to work with you, Mr K.D. Yadav.' I wanted to let him know that I knew his real name, but I had respected him enough to call him Mr Kumar, as he wanted, for all the time we had co-operated.

'Very good, Ganesh. I had no doubt you would investigate me, and find out.'

'I learnt from you, saab.'

And so he passed from my life, this faraway teacher of mine. He introduced me to his successor, a Mr Joshi, and for about a month he stayed in touch, to help with the transition. I soon knew this Mr Joshi's real name – Dinesh Kulkarni – and I told Mr Kumar exactly what I thought of him. 'This man's a fool, saab. He sits in Delhi and wants to tell me where to send money, and how much, and how many men to send on an operation. He doubts me and my sources, and speaks to me as if I'm his servant.'

'Be patient, Ganesh,' Mr Kumar said. 'You will take time to adjust to each other.'