Secrets and Sins. Jaishree Misra

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       Chapter Six

      Aman walked up the metal stairs to board his flight for Dubai. He was impressed by the sheer bulk of the massive Airbus A380, remembering a letter he had recently received, signed by Sheikh Al Maktoum himself, which contained all sorts of lavish promises to revolutionise the whole concept of luxury air travel. But even Aman Khan, for whom luxury was now a byword for existence, found himself impressed with the private suite the air hostess was now ushering him into. He looked around with pleasure, feeling comfortably cocooned, as the air hostess hung up his Armani coat in a small closet. Since becoming a star, he had learnt the value of privacy, but air travel had remained the one arena in which no amount of money could buy this precious commodity. He had toyed many times with the idea of a private jet, but had not taken it any further because of his fear of small aircraft. Sitting down in a capacious seat, Aman resolved to get his secretary to write to Sheikh Al Maktoum and thank him for coming up with the idea of private cabins on board flights. He kicked off his Loake loafers and settled himself down. After the rigours of the publicity hoopla for his latest film release in London, the air hostess’s standard patter about his seat converting to a flat bed was unobtrusive and reassuring. Adopting his usual method of tackling long-distance air travel, Aman asked for lime juice with soda and angostura bitters.

      ‘No, nothing to eat, thanks,’ he insisted, ignoring the anxious expression on the woman’s face. The food earlier in the evening at the Mayfair house of the Bindra brothers had been the usual rich Punjabi fare and was still sitting heavy in his stomach. The Bindras were the biggest distributors of South Asian films across Europe and a visit to their home had become compulsory on his London trips; which wouldn’t have been too trying, were it not for the fact that Mrs Bindra always assumed he must miss Indian food terribly when he was travelling abroad. And she sure went to town on all those ghee-laden gravies, when all he really wanted was some soup and toast.

      After the air hostess had left, closing the door to the suite softly behind her, Aman strapped himself into his chair, feeling his spirits lift as the behemoth he was ensconced in started to trundle down the runway, picking up speed before it pulled upwards into the eastern sky. Very civilized, he thought, fiddling with the technology around him after his drink had been served. Aman picked up the in-flight magazine and leafed through to the entertainment section. He had over a thousand films on demand – and only seven hours to watch them in! He decided to order a second drink before turning the privacy button on, which, as the air hostess had explained, meant that he would be left alone to watch as many films as he liked until ten minutes before landing. ‘Except in the very unlikely case of an emergency, of course, Mr Khan,’ she had said, smiling. He had smiled back, not voicing aloud the passing thought that, in his current bleak state of mind, the idea of an emergency was not such a worrying proposition.

      He looked out of the minuscule window at the empty vastness beyond, dark and purple at its edges…Who would ever imagine that an unsatisfactory marriage could bleed so much of the happiness out of life?

      Still, he had many other things to be grateful for. Aman picked up the remote control to search for one of those…Ah, here it was, the Bollywood selection, including eight films in which he played the lead! He scrolled downwards to the earliest of them – Krodh – and clicked on it. He watched his younger self appear in a few fragmented black and white shots under the opening credits. Only the tie he was wearing was imbued with colour, glowing an arty fluorescent red. Very James Bond, he thought, breaking into a sudden grin. He sat back as the film started and watched himself appear on the screen alongside Amitabh Bachchan. As a twenty-something sidekick, in comparison to the great Bachchan, the towering real hero of Krodh, the young Aman Khan was just a boyish young runt! Perhaps it was true what the rags said…Aman had grown better looking over the years, although it wasn’t due to plastic surgery, as some of the magazines had imputed.

      Aman leant his head back СКАЧАТЬ