Stephen Kelman - Man on Fire

‘You see? Your old life was killing you and that is why you were brought here. You did not come here just to help me, not entirely. God sent you here to be healed. And he gave this job to me. Together we are helping each other. It is the love in our hearts which is the key, this will unlock both our destinies. I am loving you and you are loving me. This is how the pain of the past is erased. This is God’s message to us.’

He was getting loud and the neighbour was amused. He pretended to be hanging the banana skins when I looked his way.

‘We must be loving each other,’ Bibhuti went on. ‘We have both known great struggle. You come to me from across the seven seas and tell me of your pain. I bring you into my home and provide the cure. This is beautiful. Who could predict such a turn-up? I know our friendship has no definition. How it’s evolved I’m clueless. It will become stronger with every passing days.’

He told me to kick him. He said I was ready.

My heart was racing. I felt clumsy and teenage, my legs too heavy to move. I took the sort of breath that was going to keep me alive.

He parted his feet. Jolly Boy sat watching from the top of the stairs, in the puddle his mother’s washing had left. He didn’t know whether to time it or not, and in the end he left his stopwatch to dangle at his chest.

I kicked Bibhuti where he was soft.

I felt something give. Bibhuti grinned at me. His son grinned at me. The afternoon light embraced us all.

‘Again,’ Bibhuti said. ‘You can make it harder.’

I did it again. He was pleased with me and there was no pain.

I am not an admirer of the Bollywood films as many of my countrymen are. I am too busy in my daily endeavours to know the latest releases. Also the stars of the silver screen are not my favourite role model thanks to their unquenchable thirst for limelight which often leads to immodest behaviours. So it was a great surprise to receive a call from big-time Bollywood producer Kailash Karkera after the news of my four World Record haul had swept through my city. He was very impressed by my achievements and invited me to dinner at the prestigious Taj Hotel to discuss important plans for my future.

I must tell you, walking into that place only a handful of years after arriving like a washed-up coconut on the shore of the Arabian Sea was like a dream coming true for me. This was before sad events of 2008 terror attacks and everything was calm. My wife was very happy to have the door opened for her by the doorkeeper in his red turban and sash and Shubham made us all smile by returning his bow in very respectful manner. Into the lobby and we were surrounded by gold statues and fine fabrics. It was as if we had been invited to the Raja’s palace. Mr Karkera was our introduction to the splendid inner secrets of a world beyond the imagination of a common man from humble country background.

Rajesh Battacharjee the snake who slithered at his feet, but at this time I was still gladly unaware of his intentions.

‘Your story is of great interest to me,’ Mr Karkera said. ‘How a simple man from humble beginnings can find his own way to greatness.’

I allowed his praise to tickle my heart only softly. To receive admiration is not the sportsman’s primary goal.

Mr Karkera had seen my success with the concrete slabs. He asked me how I was able to control the pain. I told him of my methods and to demonstrate I invited him to deliver a kick to my groin. He participated sans delay, giving me a polite kick which only passed by the target area. After grabbing my advice to kick harder he made several further impressions to my groin. The result of a good hit was most pleasing for both of us.

Mr Karkera asked me if I had thought about bringing my talents to a bigger stage. How would I like a place in the film industry?

The idea nearly bowled me over at first glance. I listened carefully to his proposal while inside my mind was spinning like cyclone.

Mr Karkera was of course the producer of many successful action blockbusters with a reputation for creating the most spectacular fight sequences in the business. The stars of these actioners must be toppers in their field with great martial arts skills and onscreen charisma. Although the fight sequences are actually an illusion, with no real contact received, they are created with much care to trick the audience into believing they are seeing real combat spilling from the screen. Mr Karkera picked me as the golden choice for this role. He said my feats in movie would be a boon in helping the common man to enjoy brief respite from a life of hard toil.

I pondered this conclusively. I thought of the common man and his sore need for enjoyment and positive role model in a dark and dusty world. If he could receive this positive standard from the characters I am bringing to life on the screen, then perhaps this was God informing me that my inspiration was reaching a wider area than I imagined hitherto.

I would be relocated to large new apartment in Lokhandwala Complex, home locality of many Bollywood professionals. My performances up on the screen would reflect directly my principles of accuracy and truthfulness to the skills and beliefs of my trade. And salary would be five times more than I ever held in my hands before. It was a dream in the making.

‘This would be a new life for you and your family,’ Mr Karkera said. ‘No more hand to mouth, every comfort you could ask for, and your work would be there for display to millions of your countrymen. How could you turn your back on such an offer?’

My wife gave me a smile which conveyed all her belief that I should accept the gentleman’s offer sans delay. But still I introspected. Each grain of rice I chewed on was a reason either to shun the big-shot lifestyle or to embrace the openings it brought, and my tongue could not sort them apart from each other.

‘I believe BB’s story itself would make a fine film,’ Rajesh Battacharjee declared. ‘Perhaps the right people can be found to bring his biography to life.’

‘This is my area,’ Mr Karkera said. ‘We might have to introduce an element of fiction as well for commercial viability, if this does not offend you?’

‘It would be fine,’ I said. ‘You are the expert on these things.’ And to prove my trust in Mr Karkera I offered him my hand.

Some fear persisted as I made my first step onto set for maiden day’s filming of Vengeance at Midnight , the latest actioner in Mr Karkera’s stable on which I was given small role. FilmCity was a very strange environment for me unlike anything I had seen before. My mind was unprepared for such a mysterious level.

First glimpse revealed gigantic area comprising lake, campus street, library, prison, temple and beautiful gardens all appearing large as life. It was as if the almighty had dropped every possibility from life into one location. All close to each other with no requirement to travel far between. Plus many large sheds in close arrangement where interior sets were installed to replicate any room from the imagination — Ashok, my guide for feet-finding period, opened the door to one shed to reveal a courtroom complete with every detail such as chairs, desk, judge in official garb and dragooned defendant guarded on both sides by khakis with solemn expression of duty. The only clue that this was not in fact a real scene came from the array of lights hanging from ceiling beams. The judge also having make-up applied to his face by make-up man and when I reached out to test the wooden wall I discovered it was only a plastic imitation with grain painted in.

Then we arrived at our location, the exterior of a prison. Large wooden doors and thick stone walls just like in reality. The director welcomed me and we had a nice chat about our native places while the other actors’ safety features were installed. Foam pieces covering groin and major joints to absorb the impact of the blows from a big fight sequence. The actors playing the revolting prisoners would attack the actors playing the prison guards and deadly force would be required to subdue them. Every punch and kick must look real and the audience must believe real danger was in the offing at every turn. This is what the director conveyed to me. The padding a precaution only. No real contact to occur.