They cart away the body with white masks on their faces and dump the trophy in the dustbin.
They confirm her identity only from her dental records. And when they discover who she was, they publish the picture of her rotting body on the front page of all the newspapers. 'Neelima Kumari, famous Tragedy Queen of yesteryear, has committed suicide. She was forty-four. Her badly decomposed body was discovered in her flat only after a month.'
Now this I call a real tragedy.
* * *
Smita lets out a long breath. 'No wonder film stars are neurotic! You know, I have seen Mumtaz Mahal and I too have always wanted to know the mystery behind that gold bangle. I wonder what Neelima Kumari told that thief.'
'Unfortunately, that will remain a mystery. Now are we just going to talk about Neelima Kumari, or shall I tell you what happened next on the quiz show?'
With a reluctant expression, Smita presses 'Play'.
There is a flurry of activity inside the studio. We are in the middle of a long break. The producer of the show, a tall man with long hair like a woman — or a rock star – is busy conferring with Prem Kumar in a corner. After he leaves, Prem Kumar gestures me to join him.
'Look, Mr Thomas,' Prem Kumar tells me, 'you have done fantastically well on the show. You are sitting pretty with a million rupees in your kitty. Tell me, what do you intend to do now?'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean are you going to just walk away or will you play for the billion-rupee prize? Remember it is Play or Pay now.'
'Well then, I'm going to walk away. I have been lucky up till now, but my luck might just be running out.'
'Now that would be a real pity, Mr Thomas. We think that if you go on to win this quiz you can become the biggest role model for the youth of our country. So we in W3B have decided to make it easier for you to win. You remember how I helped you on the second question? If I had not changed the question for you then, you would have been out with not even a rupee in your pocket. I want to do the same for you on the next three questions. I promise you, if you agree to go into Play or Pay we will help you win, because we want you to win. It will be the best thing that ever happened to our show.'
'What kind of questions did you have in mind?'
'It doesn't really matter, because we will secretly tell you the answers beforehand. If you could trust me on question number two, I am sure you can trust me on questions ten, eleven and twelve. So do we have a deal?'
'Well, if you are guaranteeing my victory, I can hardly say no. So tell me, what is the next question?'
'Excellent.' Prem Kumar claps his hands. 'Billy,' he tells the producer, 'Mr Thomas has agreed to go into the Play or Pay rounds.' He turns back to me and whispers, 'OK, let me tell you about the next question. I am going to ask you, "What is the length of the Palk Strait between India and Sri Lanka? The choices are going to be a) 64 km, b) 94 km, c) 137 km, and d) 209 km. The correct answer will be c) 137 km. Have you understood?'
'Yes. But how can I be certain that it is the correct answer?'
'Oh, don't you trust us, Mr Thomas? Well, I don't blame you. After all, we are talking about a billion rupees here. So I will prove it to you. Here, look in this book. I am sure you can read numbers.' He pulls out a diary which has page upon page of questions and answers, like a quiz book. He jabs at a question. It is the same question that he has asked me. And it has the same answer: 137 km.
'Are you satisfied now that I am not going to pull a fast one over you?'
I nod my head.
'OK. You'd better return to your seat, and I will join you in a second.'
* * *
The signature tune comes on and the studio sign says 'Applause'. Prem Kumar addresses the audience. 'Ladies and gentlemen, we are at a historic crossroads in our show. We have with us a contestant who has reached the magic figure of one million rupees. Now he has to decide whether he goes on to compete for the top prize or retires from the game. The moment of truth has arrived, Mr Thomas. What is your decision? Will you play to win or will you run? Do remember, though, that if you play, you risk losing all that you have won till now. So what do you say?' He smiles at me reassuringly.
'I will play,' I say softly.
'Excuse me?' says Prem Kumar. 'Could you say that a bit louder, please?'
'I will play,' I say loudly and confidently.
There are gasps from the audience. Someone says, 'Oh, my God!' Another says, 'What an idiot!'
'Is this your final, irrevocable decision?' says Prem Kumar. He smiles at me again.
'Yes,' I say.
'Then we have made history, ladies and gentlemen,' Prem Kumar exults. 'We have with us a contestant who is prepared to risk it all. We had one other contestant before who risked it all – and lost. We will see today whether Mr Thomas can create history by becoming the winner of the biggest prize in history. OK, so we are ready for the final three questions in Play or Pay.
Please give him a big round of applause.'
There is a crescendo of drums. 'Play or Pay' flashes on the screen. The audience stand up in their seats and clap enthusiastically.
After the music dies down, Prem Kumar turns to me.
'OK, Mr Thomas, you have won one million rupees and you are in the sudden-death round which we call Play or Pay. You will either win a billion or you will lose everything you have earned till now. So question number ten for ten million, yes, ten million rupees is coming up. Here it is.
Neelima Kumari, the Tragedy Queen, won the National Award—?"
'But this is not the ques—'
'Please, Mr Thomas, don't interrupt me in the middle of the question. Let me complete,' he says sternly. 'So as I was saying, the question is, Neelima Kumari, the Tragedy Queen, won the National Award in which year? Was it a) 1984, b) 1988, c) 1986 or d) 1985?'
I glare at Prem Kumar. He smirks. I understand him now. What he told me in the break was a trick to lure me into this round. But he has not reckoned with my luck. It is still holding.
'I know the answer. It is d) 1985.'
'What?' Prem Kumar is thunderstruck. He is so surprised that he even forgets to ask me whether I am a hundred per cent sure. He presses his button mechanically and the correct answer flashes. It is D.
Prem Kumar looks as though he has seen a ghost. 'Mr . . . Mr Thomas . . . has . . . just won t-ten million rupees,' he stammers, completely flustered.
The audience goes wild. Everyone stands up and cheers. Some people start dancing in the aisles.
Prem Kumar wipes the sweat from his forehead and takes a big swig of lemonade. What should have been a tragedy has become a farce.
X GKRZ OPKNU (OR A LOVE STORY)
Food. That is all I can see, hear, think and smell on the crowded and noisy railway station where I have been standing in my cotton shirt and Levi jeans for the past two hours. If you don't eat for a while, the hunger just shrivels up and dies. But if you don't eat for a long time - and I have not had a meal since yesterday afternoon - your brain does funny things. All around me I can only see people eating and drinking. And my nose follows the trail of food like a dog sniffing out a bone. The aroma of freshly made jalebis, puris and kachoris makes me dizzy. Even something as basic as a boiled egg, which I have never liked, makes me salivate. But when I finger my pocket I discover only a one-rupee coin, and after last night's loss of my fifty thousand rupees, it doesn't seem lucky any longer. So I lick my parched lips and wonder how to kill my hunger.
I am about to trade in my Kasio digital watch for a plate of chhole bhature when my eyes fall on a hoarding next to the railway canteen. It says simply, 'M – Just one kilometre away.' I know instantly where I can get food. For free.
I leave Agra railway station and set about searching for the big red M sign. I take one or two wrong turns, ask a couple of shopkeepers, and find it eventually in the heart of a posh market.