Conversations-III

James Downie: I am working on a novel.

Me: Fiction? First-person?

James: Yes and yes.

Me: About?

James: About 42.

Me: Ah, the Answer to the Ultimate Question?

James: No, I am 42 now.

Anita: “Is all good writing personal?”

James Downie: “You’ve read a fair-share yourself. What do you think?”

Anita: “There is this intimacy to personal writing that no amount of third-person description can achieve”

James Downie: “That’s one reason—not, of course, the only one—why cinemas and plays are more popular than books. Okay, in a play, all conversations are manifestations of a single mind, right?

Anita: “The playwright’s?”

James Downie: “Yeah, the play—“

A: “That’s being simplistic”

J: “Maybe, but it doesn’t harm what I am saying. Okay, so where was I?”

A: “The playwright”

J: “Yeah, the playwright. But, when you watch a play, one tends to forget it. It is the characters who address each other, who address you”

Anita: “But I relate to characters in books just as strongly as I relate to actors in plays”

James Downie: “That’s not what I am driving at—there is this immediacy to a character in a play that no amount of words can achieve. Of course, an imaginative mind can overcome these hurdles … But—“

[Pause]

James Downie: “But there’s something unexplainable. And it draws from the same idea of immediacy that makes a first-person account more effective … Okay, let me put it this way: a book is more about the writer than a movie is about the director. A movie or a play has multiple voices—all speaking the same mind’s words, but adding their own highly distinctive styles. That is, in some ways, a more realistic depiction of … reality. On the other hand, the language, the style of a book is the sole prerogative of a writer. All background events are described in the same way—the words slot behind one another in a particular manner. The element of chaos—even the staged chaos of a play or a movie—that is so characteristic of reality doesn’t always come through”

“And a first person account captures reality more honestly?”

“Honesty! That’s an interesting choice of word, but that’s precisely why first-person accounts work sometimes. A first person account might be monochromatic in its style, but the character speaks to you directly through the pages; a good writer makes you forget him and remember only the character”

“And you are a good writer?”

“I’m a smart writer: I know what sells”

*****

Me: Back then, was James a good opener?

Pankaj Kishore: James had great skill and Zen-like patience. In those days, that’s what was prized above all else. He had a range of strokes for anything on the stumps—he was wristy, he would drive down the ground with aplomb, he would loft splendidly.”

[Pause]

Pankaj Kishore: But, he was a curious batsman: outside the off-stump, he would rarely touch anything.

*****

Text Message from James Downie: *Hey, What’s up?* [Sep 20^th]

Text Message from James Downie: *Up?* [Sep 22^nd]

Text Message from James Downie: *Pizza?* [Sep 27^th]

Text Message from James Downie: *Are you in Park Lane?* [Sep 30^th]

Text Message from James Downie: *What’s up?* [Oct 1^st]

Text Message from James Downie: *Taleb’s coming on TV—BBC Entertainment* [Oct 2^nd]

Text Message from James Downie: *Message if in town* [Oct 3^rd]

*****

Me: She called back?

James Downie: No

Me: Did you try tracking her down?

James Downie: I had her address—Pankaj whispered it to me over the phone that very night. But, I never went down to see her. I messaged a couple of times, tried calling more.

Me: Why didn’t you go over?

James Downie: I don’t know.

*****

Pankaj Kishore: I remember a three-day match we played, once. There was this bowler from Hindu who was serving up these innocuous, juicy half-volleys, a foot outside off-stump. Bish, James’ opening partner, was having a fine time cover-driving, picking up boundaries at will. Our man would see the ball up until the last moment, and simply let it go, with a great, grand flourish. Sometimes he would prod at those balls tentatively and get a single.

Me: That’s how most people played then, right?

Pankaj Kishore: No, no one let go off rank half-volleys even then. I was the guy who carrying the drinks—I carried a message from the captain asking him to be more aggressive. He simply pointed to the men in the slips and continued batting in his own manner. It nearly cost him his place in the side.

*****

James Downie: It was amongst the most inexplicable things ever. She simply stopped talking to me.

Me: Did you ever see her after that?

[Silence]

James Downie: You know, in Sputnik Sweetheart, the central character, this feisty, supremely intelligent woman, simply vanishes. She goes over to the other side, Murakami explains. I spent days mulling over that phrase: what could it mean? It had to be a metaphor for something. I also considered how it could purely be a means to take the story forward. The book is about loneliness—alienation— and addresses the theme in a fairly direct manner, as opposed to say, Ruskin Bond’s Scenes from a Writer’s Life. For a book to be lonely, you need characters to disappear—what better way to do so than to make them inexplicably vanish?

[Pause]

James Downie: Have you read Bond’s book?

Me: No, but I’ve heard of it.

James Downie: It’s a classic: an autobiography, the book chronicles the loneliness of a troubled childhood. But, not once does Bond state it explicitly. It has the most cheery, most compelling, most honest and the most beautiful prose I have come across.

[Pause]

James Downie: The beauty of sadness—and gloomy prose—is unparalleled.

[Longish Silence]

James Downie: Of course, I never felt miserable, or lonely. I think, after so many years of living comfortably alone, it’s hard to feel either. But, it rankled. Nostalgia was never the sweet poison that it was for her, but it would gently tug at the sleeves of my mind, like a beggar-child on a street, and things would be a little melancholy for a bit.

[Pause]

Me: Why didn’t you go after her?

James Downie: She’d made her choices clear, I figured. And what if I slipped?

*****

Me: You’d have to find a new table-tennis partner for the next month or so, I’m afraid.

James Downie: Why? Are you going somewhere?

Me: I’m getting married.

James Downie: That’s wonderful news! Where’s my invitation?

Me: Right here. My wife-to-be, Anita, specifically asked me to invite you over. It’s been a long time, she says.

[The End]

Conversations - II

2.2
[Me: What did you think of Gopal then?
James Downie: I didn’t think much of him.
Me: What do you think of him now?
James Downie: I don’t think of him too much]
Anita: “Gopal didn’t take too kindly to your joke”
James Downie: “Gopal?”
Anita: “I am not falling for that one”
“Haha .. You shouldn’t have told him it was my joke”
“I didn’t”
“Oh!”
“And he didn’t find it funny?
“No”
“Oh …”
“You’re totally judging him, now”Of course not! I am just thinking …”
[Pause]
James Downie: “I guess I know why he didn’t find it funny”
Anita: “I’m all ears”
James Downie: “A pun is all about context, you know, and timing. Punctual punning, if you please”
“Ah”
“Devoid of them, a pun might as well disintegrate: from punditry to punishment”
“Hahaha … You’ve been wanting to try those lines on someone for quite a while now; haven’t you?”
“You really don’t think I am very smart”
“I think you are smart, but not this smart”
“Actually, I think I am capable of much more. A couple of spontaneous puns and a pop-theory on punning uses up hardly a hundredth of my cranial capacity”
“Your confidence is disconcerting”
“Only disconcerting? Not disturbing or, perhaps, disgusting?”
“Insightful”
“You know, that’s why I don’t think I could ever have had a full-time office job”
“You are too cocky to take orders?”
“I’d be less harsh on myself: I’m a born leader—“
“—you’ve just equated less harsh with extremely generous”
“But I detest hierarchies”
“As in?”
“I find hierarchies revolting. I’ll illustrate: I once went to a forest guest-house near Mysore, many years ago. The caretaker was this jolly, but pointedly subservient, fifty-year old man whose name escapes me now. I was twenty-eight, almost half his age; and yet, he would follow me around like a faithful puppy, offering to carry my bag, bring food to my bed, polish my shoes; and when he spoke, he always addressed me as “Sir” and spoke softly, his back bowed, his head bobbing. It was disconcerting, but I was willing to live with it. But, one day I came back early and I chanced upon him by himself in the main longue of the guest-house: sitting cross-legged on the sofa, his arms placed magisterially on the sofa’s arms, his eyes fixed on the TV, his fingers playing carelessly with the remote … The image, somehow, left me with a feeling of deep revulsion”
“Because of what society did to him?”
“You could say that-- unless we are equals, we are always actors. Society makes sure of that”
“And you think that’s true of any hierarchy?”
“Of course—Reddy! Mukunda Reddy was his name”
“Oh”

[Pause]

“Anyway, I am a writer now, so that lets me get away from such nagging contradictions. No more feeling like I was born to enjoy being in power, but hating the very idea of power itself. In a sense, I have no leaders and no followers”
“No leaders, yes. But, followers? Aren’t fans followers too?”
“Maybe … But of a different kind. They aren’t answerable to me; On the contrary, to a large extent, I am to them. Whether consciously or not, a lot of my writing keeps the audience in mind”
“It doesn’t come across, you know. Most of what you write seems too personal—someone who cares lot about what people think of him would hesitate to put so much of himself into their novels”

[Pause]

Anita: “That sentence didn’t sound right, did it?”
James Downie: “Always on the button”
Anita: “Haha”
JD: “But, coming back to my writing—“
A: “—Pankaj was right; you really love talking about the way you write”
“Of course, I don’t. But, coming back to my writing … ”
“Haha”
“I don’t think I referred to content as much as style when I said I keep the audience in mind. What I say is for myself, how I say it is for the readers”
“Hmmm … And I think you write best when you don’t think of how you are saying what you are saying”
“Distracted?”
“Distracted!”

*****
James Downie: “You know why I talk of my writing so much?”
Anita: “Why?”
“Because it’s my job. Everyone makes conversation about their job, it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I appear narcissistic because my job only involves myself”
“I don’t talk about my job”
“Everyone who loves their job will talk about it; I, of course, live my job”
“Breathe work every millisecond”
“Nanosecond”

[Pause]

James Downie: “And you don’t talk about your job because you don’t have one”
Anita: “Not for long, James; not for long”
“Why don’t you have a job?”
“Because I’d be a disaster at a conventional work-place”
“Self-deprecation— you’d make a great fisherwoman”
“I was not fishing for praise there; I was simply stating facts”
“Okay, why will you be a disaster? I think you possess, in healthy amounts, all the necessary attributes to make a fine consultant”
“You don’t know me too well”
James Downie: “I’d like to”
Anita: “You would?”

*****
2.3

[Me: Did you expect the call?
James Downie: I did. But, it’s somewhat like the time when people tell you it’s going to be a bright, sunny day. And it turns out to be a bright sunny day, except, it pours too. Simultaneously.
Me: Thank God for the rainbow?
James Downie: Thank God for the rainbow, however brief][Phone rings]

James Downie: “Hi! What a pleasant surprise!”
Anita: “Why?”
James Downie: “’What ‘why’?”
Anita: “Why did you write that short fiction piece?”
James Downie: “I write because I have to make a living”
Anita: “But, why a piece based on me?”
James Downie: “Did you not like it?”

[Silence]

James Downie: Oye, I’m sorry; but it was such a lovely piece, so happy, so true!”

[Silence]

James Downie: “I’m sorry”
Anita: “I don’t ever want to be reduced to a public spectacle. I like my life the way it is and I wish there was a copyright violation on persons. I should sue you”
James Downie: “But, I spoke of you in such glowing terms. I even—“
[Engaged]

*****
3.0

[Me: She called back?
James Downie: Yes
Me: And?
James Downie: She apologised; she was sweet, warm, funny. I remember thinking it was a distinctly pleasant conversation
Me: I see
[Pause]
James Downie: But now, I don’t quite know if it indeed was. Some of the pauses seemed odd; and she did seem in a hurry to finish the conversation. Maybe I am imagining it; maybe I have gone over the memory so many times and from so many angles that I’ve lost all sense of objectivity”
Me: What happened next?
James Downie: You know she told me this queerly profound thing once about nostalgia: she called it ‘sweet poison’. In fact, I wrote it down somewhere … Let me get it for you]
James Downie: “Good memories are like costly wine, they get better with time. And like wine, they leave just a little sourness in the mouth; an overdose can lead to an overwhelming sense of sadness”
Anita: “That’s quite some impromptu passage”
James Downie: “It’s not impromptu. And I didn’t write it. Some random student whose essay I’m judging”
Anita: “He must win, for that passage alone”
JD: “I want him to; but most of what he says has nothing to do with the theme of the essay. Beauty needs no context, but, unfortunately, victory does”
Anita: “That’s so true of the world at large. Everything needs a context, a space, a history, a trajectory that chalks its path into the future”

[Pause]

A: “And nostalgia is not good wine, its sweet poison”
JD: “Surely you didn’t say poison?”
A: “I most definitely did”

[Pause]

A: “I’ll explain. Nostalgia’s a very strong presence in my life, at once my greatest strength and weakness. I am overcome by nostalgia in waves, in short, strong bursts, that transport me to worlds long forgotten. This is where she is sweet—“
JD: “Who?”
A: “Nostalgia. This is where nostalgia is sweet. But, sometimes she is everywhere: in the wooden panelling on the floor; in the medals hung on the wall; in the blooming Gulmohar in summer; in the darkest depths of the nights. And every scene is a memory, and reality merges seamlessly with remembrance; certainty and chance are twined to form a strange, almost cosmic puzzle that leaves me completely drained … And these are the days I sketch; just like it is for you, intensely personal art is an escape”

[Pregnant silence]

JD: “It sounded good—and dark”
A: “But?”
JD: “But it also went over my head”
A: “Mull over it. After all, most of life leaves your cranial capacity untouched”

*****
3.1

[Me: It’s cloudy
James Downie: It’s been like that for some time here. I find, increasingly, that the weather mimics my state of mind. Grey, with occasional rays of bright, mad light … Maybe I am the weather God.
Me: Been reading the Guide lately?
James: The Guide’s the book that keeps me happy]
Pankaj Kishore: “James! A distinctly inopportune time to barge in—you are true to form, I must admit”
James: “I’m certain you’ve realised that I have not barged it; that it is pouring where I stand now, and I do not have an umbrella and am as wet as a whale”
PK: “Am I supposed to invite you in, now?”
JD: “Don’t tell me you have a woman who is not your wife in there with you and you need some privacy”
“My wife’s here; she’s up and fuming. She hates being awoken at ungodly hours”
“Exactly why I came; now move aside, I need to go in”
Meena: “James! My children are sleeping, so I need you to be soft. And get out as soon as possible”
JD: “Could you make me some tea, Meena?”
Meena: “Tell him to get lost, Pankaj”
PK: “You can tell him yourself. This is as much your house as it is mine”
M: “Get lost Downie and good night. I am going to bed. Pankaj, get rid of him fast”
[Sound of footsteps receding]
JD: “She never got over the fact that I asked you not to marry her. Dude, it’s been fifteen years”
PK: “What do you want, James?”
JD: “I want her address”
PK: “Anita’s?”
JD: “No, Surpanakha’s. I have forgotten what street Ravana’s palace is on”
PK: “Gopal is a second-cousin of sorts to my wife, James. I don’t want to have to do anything with this”

[Pause]

JD: “Okay”
PK: “Okay?”
“Thanks for helping. I knew I couldn’t count on you”
“What happened?”
“She isn’t answering her phone; it’s pouring outside”
“For how long?”
“It’s been pouring all week; she hasn’t answered her phone for almost a week now. No reply to messages, no nothing”
“I’ll see what I can do”
“No wonder you’re such a champion government official: I’ll see what I can do”

*****

[Me: Are all artists escapists?
James Downie: You mean, are all of us escape-artists?
Me: Haha!
James Downie: I think most non-artists are escapists; the world is an escape from within. Immerse yourself in reality and forget who you really are]

[Me: Are all artists escapists?
Pankaj Kishore: All artists are border-line mental cases; James is not. He crossed over a long time ago.]*****
[To continue]

Conversations

1.0

[Me: Why the Coffee House?

James Downie: Well, you should ask Pankaj that question—he loves that place. I am not too particular, distance and traffic—not time—being my only constraints. And this place is close by; also cosy, quiet-ish and serves fantastic coffee. Plus, Pankaj, being Pankaj, knows the Manager and we always get a table, even in rush hour.

Me: And what did you think of her then?

James Downie: I thought she was pretty. Yeah, very pretty, and quiet. Wonderfully-- almost mysteriously— so!]

 
Pankaj Kishore: "So, what are you working on?"
James Downie: "Nothing, nothing really. I am trying to write a novel, but I can't seem to string a hundred words together"
PK: "That's odd; brevity's never a feature of your speech"
JD: "I think that's a bit rich coming from you. You who— oh well, I'll save it for another time"
"Ah, see? You have to rein in yourself to stop talking. Brevity was never really a feature of your speech"
"Come on. Someone in the media once told me you converted a whole bunch of presspersons into practicing somnambulists after a three-hour press conference [Snort]. And Dr Ray told me he prescribes you for insomnia. His prescription is, in fact, a Youtube link: the one where you talk in five instalments about earthworm regeneration and farm development"
"If I were Dr Ray, I'd prescribe your Catalysts. I couldn't get past page twelve"
"I am proud I got you to read eleven pages of fiction"
"I have no time for stories; the world is too real for stories"
"But I doubt your non-fiction credentials too. Barring the Constitution, which you mugged for your Civil Services entrance exams a decade ago, I think your reading is largely restricted to office files and newspapers"
PK: "You obviously do not know me very well"
JD: "Okay, name three books you read recently"
"Okay, wait: I read Devdutt Patnaik's compelling retelling of the Mahabharata, Jaya. I read a book on the emergency by this young chap—Giridhar Bhat— who sourced recently released white-papers and other private documents of Indira Gandhi; and, I read The Monk who sold his Ferrari"

"Oh, I am going to love dissecting this; to me you are like Abhimanyu, defenceless, open to attack from all sides. First, a minor technical point: the Mahabharata is a work of fiction"
"Correction: historical fiction. It is rooted in history"
"I won't argue— to each his own. But, I think, at best, it is fictitious history. Second, I am certain you know the epic well, so I don't really think you "read" the book. You bought it, and then you skimmed through for a couple of hours—perhaps on a flight—and then put it in your library to show off. Of course, you will not agree, so we will not debate this point either. Third, I think the same applies to the Emergency book as well, it's a well-known event, you must have read the blurb, perhaps the first chapter, then skipped to the juicy bits and let it go. In fact, this is my theory on most of the vast collection of books in your library. Fourth—or was it fifth— I pity you if you did indeed read The Monk. Such pop-philosophy does not befit a mind as sharp as yours"
Anita: "Antilibrary"
James Downie:"What?"
Anita:"Taleb—in the Black Swan—calls it an antilibrary: a library stacked with books that one hasn't read. As a constant reminder that there is so much one doesn't know"
Pankaj Kishore: "Ah, yes. He was referring to Umberto Eco's library, right? See? That's another book I have read"
James Downie: "Is it in the first chapter?"
A: "What?"
JD: "Is the idea of an antilibrary introduced in the first chapter?"
A: "Haha—I am afraid so, yes"
JD: "Yes, that's another book you have read in your own distinctive style"
Pankaj Kishore: "Ask me anything from the book"
JD: "I haven't read it myself, maybe you can ask her. She remembered the concept, so I'm guessing she has read the whole—"
[Phone rings]

PK: "Excuse me. I need to take this call"
JD: "Sure"

 
Awkward silence.


 
James Downie: "So?"
Anita: "Hmm"
"I am guessing you have, umm, read the book?"
"The book?"
"The Black Swan"
"Yes"

 
Awkward silence II.


 
James Downie: "It's quite a long phone call"
Anita: "Yes"
"You, umm, liked the book?"
"Yes. Very nice"
"You don't talk much"
"No, that depends …"
"Depends?"

 
Awkward silence III


 
Anita: "I liked your book"
James Downie: "Really? Which one?"
"The latest: Calling Courtesies"

"Thanks, that's nice to hear. Did you like something in particular?"
"I liked the style: it was sort of, like, distracted"

"Diffracted?"

"No. Distracted. It's almost as though your mind was elsewhere when you wrote the book"
"And that's a good thing?"
"It's a good thing for you"
"Go on. And try and be elaborate"
Anita: "Let me try and draw a sporting analogy, only because my fiancé is a tennis freak and I have spent a considerable period of time watching and following the sport. A lot of the sport is, at least at the highest level, played in the mind. Some players are advised to forget the scoreboard, to play the ball and not the opponent or the situation. It's a tough act, but an enormously handy attribute to possess. Others—and these are a rarer breed—need the scoreboard, only because when they are down they play better. Adversity spurs them to greater heights"
"And I belong to the latter category?"
"No, the former"
"I meant the former, sorry"
"Yes, you write best when you don't think about the fact that you are writing"
"Distracted"
"Haha, yes … Of course, all this is mere hypothesis. Only you know what is right"
JD: "Distracted"
Undefined silence.

James Downie: "And how did you come to this conclusion?"
Anita: "What?"
"How do you know what novels I write distracted?"
"Well, you can tell"
"You can?"
"Your distracted novels, like The
Advocate's Devil or And are meandering, verbose and full of loose ends. But, they are also the funniest and the most endearing; most importantly, the words flow. There is a seamless, almost unthinking connection that binds words together"
"Fantastic"
"Am I right?"
JD: "What does it matter? It's a fascinating hypothesis, whether perceptive or not is another issue"
A: "Thank you"
JD: "Fascinating"

 
Pankaj Kishore: "What did I miss?"
James Downie: "Your young friend here is entertaining me with stories of alien invasion"
"Alien invasion?"
"No, perhaps not as far-fetched, but equally captivating"
"Let me guess, you guys must have been discussing you—or your latest book. I can't imagine you finding much else captivating"
"Some, umm, people can be captivating"
Anita: "You know, I am really beginning to doubt if you guys really like each other"
James Downie: "We don't"
Text Message from Pankaj Kishore: *Dude, she's talking. She hadn't said a word all day*
James Downie: "I come to see him because I need my monthly fix of acerbic banter. Also, I need some ridiculous perspectives on life: my writing tends to get too dull, too uni-dimensional otherwise"
Pankaj Kishore: "His ridiculous perspectives—that's why I come too"
Text Message from James Downie: *I tend to have that effect on people. How serious is she about this fiancé?*
James Downie: "Perhaps the only thing we agree upon"
Pankaj Kishore: "Perhaps the only thing we agree upon"
Text Message from Pankaj Kishore: *Dude, stay away. And stop looking at her like that*
******
2.0

[Me: Did you ever consider calling him?

Anita: No.

Me: Were you surprised he called?

Anita: I was, but I shouldn't have been.

Me: And you said yes?

Anita: On a whim, yes. He's famous, writes well and seemed interesting. Plus, Lodhi Gardens is a nice place to walk in]

 Anita: "I am surprised you called"
James Downie: "I am not surprised you came"
"It's funny; you don't come across as cocky in your novels"
"I am not—I am just speaking from experience"
"That statement was cockier: if that's an English word"
"It is, I guess. Though you don't hear people going—he's the cockiest around"

"Haha"
"I am not cocky. I just don't mind calling a diamond a diamond"
"A straightforward writer—it has really got an oxymoronic ring to it"
"I can be straightforward in my private life and still write about complicated characters—just like you can have extremely gentle fast bowlers"
A: "Or hangmen with a heart of gold?"
JD: "Or hangmen with a heart of gold! "
"So …"
JD: "So?"
"So, why am I here?"
"Would you like to have a go? Since you have such fascinating theories about me"
"You find me attractive, mildly smart and sufficiently liberal, the fiancé notwithstanding"
"Like most of my critics, you seem to know me better than I do"
"Was I being too harsh there?"
"Perhaps"
A: "So, why am I here?"
"I found you interesting"

"Interesting?"
"Interesting"
A: "As in?"
JD: "Ah, you would have made a fine fisherwoman"
"What?"
"Nothing"
"Don't give me that superior smile"
"I am not smiling. My face is as stern as a headmaster's"
"The mirth in your voice is a dead giveaway"
"Like a silver-lining on the cloud"
"Beautiful"
"What is beautiful?"
A: "What you just said"
JD: "Really?"
A: "Fisherman"

 *******
2.1

[Me: Did you like the movie?

James Downie: I loved the pop-corn]

 Anita: "Good movie"
James Downie: "Good …ish. Yeah, goodish, I guess"
"You didn't like it?"
"I decide how much I like a movie only few days later. My favourite movies haunt me. I know I really love a movie when one fine morning, days later, I wake up thinking of a scene, or a character or a dialogue"
"I think one of the characters in Catalyst said something similar. In fact, I am almost the polar opposite. For me the viewing experience is the key: I need to be sucked into the movie, so deeply engrossed that I forget all that is around me. That's when I know I truly loved a movie"
"Cinema as only a medium of escape"
"Yes, you could say that"
[Pause]

Anita: "Your favourite movie?"
James Downie: "Stardust Memories"
"I watched it only recently and I loved it so much"
"I watched it first twenty years ago and I have watched it many times since. You know how I realised that it simply had to be my favourite?"
"You dreamt about it?"
"No, even better: I was reading the newspaper one afternoon, when I was suddenly overcome by a strange scent— a mix of water-sprinkler on drenched, trimmed lawns, French perfume and cigarettes. I immediately recognized it as from the long-shot of Isabel—Marie-Christine Barrault— striding confidently down the pathway of Stardust Hotel, her bags in tow"
"Remarkable"
"You talk of the movie sucking you in, here was a clear case of the inverse: I had internalized the movie so strongly that I could smell it"
"I can't quite believe what you are telling me"
"Oh, but you must— why, hello!"
Pankaj Kishore: "Hi!"
James Downie: "Hi"
Anita: "Hi"
Gopal: "Ani, I thought you were with your friends watching a movie!"
A: "I was—and I bumped into him on my way out, and we got talking …"
G: "And you are—"
PK: "Pardon me, gentlemen, let me do the introductions. This is James Downie, the famous writer of amongst the most brilliant prose of the past decade and more; and this is Gopal, hot-shot investment banker and—"
A: "And my fiancé"
JD: "Oh, nice to meet you"
G: "My pleasure"
[Pause]
G: "I must say, Mr Downie, I am not one for reading books. As my guru here says, the world is too—"
JD: "—real for stories. Yes, I've heard that many times"
Text Message from Pankaj Kishore: *Dude, WTF. Back off. She's getting married*
Text Message from James Downie: *Guru? You're his Guru? I'm loving this*
JD: Guys, I better get going. Inspiration has struck.
PK: Yeah, run along now. You mustn't keep her waiting.
A and G: See you!
Text Message from Anita: *Later?*
Text Message from James Downie: *Later … Quick Quiz: what happens when Gopal is on a farting spree?*
Text Message from Anita: *What?*
Text Message from JD: *Gopal Gas Tragedy*
 [To continue]