Zara...A redundant tabloid story

Women-to-women connection! Not the one you are thinking about, but it made me gay enough to leave a mark. I saw a spark in those watery eyes, through the smoke of her ciggrate. She sipped her beer from the bottle like a shy rustic girl and acknowledged my presence at Saleem’s party. Saleem? The name says it all. He is a filthy rich real estate developer, a millionaire at least; and a disciple of art “kala ka kadardan”. He gathers raw, talented artists and makes them perform in his evening parties. Don’t be scared! Entertainment has no definition.

So Saleem is a very good friend of mine. I was artist enough to grab his attention, intellectual enough to sustain our work relations and friendship is the sole manifestation of the contribution we bring to each other’s dreams.

That cosy party had a couple of interesting people chit chatting around. Zara broke the randomness of the room by her song. Her voice was a life saving poison. And a pain that can only leave you alive. I went into a trance and she was singing only for me. She even made me sing but I was not even remotely close to her, not technically atleast, but we were in awe of each other and others were admiring our musical interaction.

So let me give a face to this name Zara. She looks like a thin 17 yr old wheatish college girl with decently attractive features but sultry eyes. Music through such expressive eyes was sheer enigma. One would certainly want to demystify the intensity she transforms into her singing.

The party went on for a couple of hours. Music, Dance and Fun was all on the house from the philanthropic host Saleem. They all went for clubbing and I decided to come back as I had to bring in my friends b’day. The whole b’day party was a background score to Zara’s visual singing to me. Finally, I came back home with my trance hat gifted to me by Zara and got back to my work routine.

3 months later while I was jogging on carters the woman-to-woman spark was revived. I saw a group of people gathered around a bench to listen to my lovely lady. There was a young guitarist and an old uncle giving percussion. The public was thoroughly enjoying this impromptu symphony. I chuckled, Entertainment really has no definition. I was excited and gazed at her but she didn’t recognize me. She couldn’t. She was high, and was enjoying singing to public demand. I was blank. I wanted to be happy for her but how can she not recognize me?

Next day I was as blank and uneasy at my work in the Bank when I got call from Saleem. I asked him if he knows anything about Zara. He could only tell me that she stays in Mahim. I ran to her address. I will leave the description of her place to your imagination. Her home covered a 200 sqft of built-up area. She lives there alone.

Zara is a 23 yrs old married woman, who was brought up by her grandfather as her parents died at a very young age. She has a 5 yr old daughter whom she saw last time 3 yrs back at a railway station from where her husband had stolen (literally) her and vanished. She has stopped fighting for her case in the court to get her baby one year back when her own brother tried to rape her.

Zara is a drug addict now. She thinks it is important for her to stay drugged, as this lets her create her own world within and bring out the emotions she has lived and fought at such an early age. By being unconscious she can sing better and fetch more money. When overdosed she can’t recognize people she knows.

Zara is an exotic entertainer who ignites various emotions through her singing. When asked if she is happy with her life, she replied that she thoroughly enjoyed the chimerical world created within her unconscious space and tries to find her baby in this world. In her journey to panacea she ends up entertaining others.  Indeed “Entertainment has no definition”!

Love to Zara.


PS: I was told all this by a guy who is in immense love with Zara. He is a qualified lawyer and will be bringing Zara daughter back, before proposing her for marriage.