Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
SUNAINA
I hopped into the car waiting for me, and we set off for Sarang and Tarana’s fabulous sea-facing flat in Worli. I texted her when I pulled up in the parking lot and found her waiting for me.
“Did you have any trouble getting away from home?” I asked curiously. Wondering what her equation with Sarang’s very traditional family was like.
“A little. They were very shocked to learn I had plans tonight. Sarang’s mother expects me to wait for him every night and have dinner only after he has eaten, which is ridiculous because he eats at the studio most nights and gets home only to sleep.”
She shot me a desperate look.
“Sunaina, can we not talk about Sarang and his family tonight? I need this to be only about me and my music if that makes any sense.”
“Of course,” I agreed readily because I knew what she was feeling.
When your husband was so famous, your very existence was obliterated by his fame. It became all about him. That’s exactly why I had held onto my job because it kept me from falling into the trap of believing I was really a billionaire’s wife. For the past two years, I’d had to constantly remind myself that when this was over, I was going back to a small flat in the suburbs, and it showed me the importance of being independent.
Tarana needed her music to be separate from everything that Sarang created, especially when she was going to be accused of nepotism anyway. It wouldn’t matter that she was an amazing singer in her own right. The trolls would always find a way to put her down just because she was married to Sarang.
‘So what’s the plan?” she asked.
“I have no plan,” I confessed. “Tanvir saw your video and wanted to meet you right away. Shall we see how it goes?”
She nodded doubtfully as I stopped to pick up a couple of bottles of wine before our car pulled up outside a run-down colonial bungalow in one of the by-lanes of Bandra.
“Why are we meeting him in a bhoot bangla?” she hissed as I pushed the rusty iron gate open and made my way to the front door.
The paint on the outside of the house was peeling, but we could hear cheerful voices coming from inside. When we rang the bell, a bearded giant opened the door.
“Tanvir?” I asked carefully.
“Hey, come on in,” he said with a warm smile. “You must be Sunaina. And I recognised Tarana from the video.”
We followed him into the house and found it to be a warm, welcoming space with a large living room that opened into a dining area.
“Meet the band! That’s Atharva, our bassist, and that’s Gino, who plays keyboards, and his wife, Perpetua, is our drummer,” said Tanvir.
“Nice to meet you guys. This is a lovely house,” I said, which was true. It might look like a bhoot bangla from the outside, but the inside was lovely.
“This is Gino and Perpetua’s house. Atharva and I crash here most of the time, too, so we use this as our base,” said Tanvir.
“I hope you guys are hungry. Atharva and I have been slaving in the kitchen since evening,” said Gino as his wife opened the bottles of wine that I had brought along.
“We’re famished,” said Tarana, with a grin. “And something smells delicious!”
“That’s Atharva’s mom’s fish curry. The bastard won’t share the recipe, but he cooks it willingly enough, so we forgive him,” said Perpetua with a laugh. “We also have veggie options in case you’re vegetarian.”
Tarana happened to be vegetarian, and I was touched they went to so much trouble for our sake.
Dinner was a fun affair, with The Bandra Boys regaling us with tales of how they came together to form a band.
“But why are you called The Boys when Perpetua is a girl?” asked Tarana in confusion.
“We had another drummer when we first started out. We were all from the same boys’ school in Bandra, so the name came naturally to us. Perpetua joined us when Nikhil left the band to go into banking, and we offered to change the name, but she likes to see the look of surprise on people’s faces when they see her,” said Atharva, with a boyish grin.
“Tell us about yourselves,” said Perpetua. “Where are you girls from?”
I shrugged awkwardly and knew that we couldn’t go ahead with the evening without letting them know our real identities.
“In the interests of full disclosure, I need to tell you guys right now that my full name is Sunaina Chaudhry. I’m Viren’s wife,” I said slowly and found them staring at me in confusion.
“The Viren Chaudhry who has our asses in a sling right now? You’re his wife?” asked Tanvir with an angry glint in his eyes.
“Yes, but I’m here purely as Tarana’s social media manager, not as Viren’s wife. He has no idea I’m here because this has nothing to do with him,” I said hastily.
“And Tarana? Who are you?” asked Perpetua shrewdly.
Tarana raised her chin and met their eyes with defiance shining through hers.
“I’m Sarang Sharma’s wife,” she announced.
Atharva let out a cynical laugh.
“Why are you girls here at all? You don’t need us when you have your husbands to launch Tarana’s musical career,” he said bluntly.
“I keep my music separate from my marriage,” said Tarana, and Tanvir snorted rudely.
“That is such a privileged statement to make,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “When you know your husband is your safety net.”
“But it’s true. I need you people to understand one thing. You’re taking a big risk by going ahead with this collab. Both our husbands will be furious with us for going behind their backs,” I explained. “And they might take it out on you.”
“Why did you reach out to us?” asked Perpetua. “How did you even know we’re looking for a classical singer? That’s confidential information.”
“I overheard Viren and his assistant talking about you guys before he met with Tanvir this afternoon,” I confessed.
Perpetua stared at me for a few seconds before she grinned.
“You’re sneaky! I like that in a woman,” she said approvingly.
I got the feeling that Tanvir might be the talent, but Perpetua was the brains behind this band.
“But I still don’t get why you’re here,” grumbled Gino. “We’re already on thin ice with Viren. Why should we risk our contract because you girls want to play at being content creators?”
“I’m not playing at anything, buddy. This is my career just as much as it is yours,” snapped Tarana. “I understand if you don’t want to piss Viren off. That’s fine. You don’t have to do this collab if you don’t want to, and there won’t be any hard feelings about it. But don’t put me down before you even know what I’m capable of doing. I don’t sing for a hobby. I am Bhargav Pandit’s daughter and musical heir!”
“And I did give you guys a glimpse of Tarana’s talent. You wouldn’t have invited us over if you didn’t believe she was good,” I reminded them.
“All right, let’s all calm down and start over,” said Perpetua. “It’s time to make some music and see if we can find a way to work together.”
“But how? Viren isn’t going to be very happy about you girls going behind his back,” said Gino, who seemed to be the overthinker of the band.
“That’s why we need to go at this tangentially,” I said. “We need a couple of viral videos for fans to start demanding more collabs between your band and Tarana. Are you tied to Silver Record exclusively?”
“No, our contract is for each album, which is why we need a lead singer if we want them to renew it for our next album,” explained Perpetua.
“Okay, so let’s first try one collab and see how it does,” I said excitedly. “If your fans like your collabs, maybe you could pitch the idea of an album with Tarana as your lead singer.”
The band led us to their studio, and I settled down to record behind-the-scenes content as the rest of them talked about music. Tanvir picked up his electric guitar and sat down cross-legged in front of Tarana.
“Can you run through some sargams for me?” he asked, and she sang a few notes.
He played them back with a rock twist added to the classical sargams. She quickly picked up what he wanted from her, and they played around with different scales and pieces until they were both comfortable. There was a lot of laughter as well as a few arguments as everyone chipped in with a different opinion.
This was marketing gold, I decided. I could use this to make blooper reels and BTS videos.
“What did you have in mind when you thought of a classical singer as your lead?” asked Tarana, and Tanvir stared into the distance for a bit before he spoke.
“I wanted to meld a rare Hindustani classical piece with rock. To create something unique and elevate our music. Do you have any suggestions?”
“How about a thumri by Bade Ghulam Ali Khan Sahab?” asked Tarana thoughtfully. “He wrote it to mourn his wife’s death, and even though it is one of the most poignant and intense thumris I’ve ever heard, I think it would pair very well with your style of playing. Sort of like a rock ballad.”
She sang a few lines, and the stark, intense melody gave me goosebumps. And when Tanvir began to play his electric guitar, I finally realised his vision for his next album.
They rehearsed a few times, and I shot a short video of them singing just one verse of the song. The video began out of focus with Tarana singing the first few notes of the alaap before the camera zoomed onto her face as she sang the first line. Then it panned to Tanvir’s guitar as he played his riff, and then it showed both of them in the same frame.
“Is that it?” asked Tarana, sounding slightly disappointed that the video was so short.
My fingers flew over my phone as I edited the video and uploaded it from her account, with The Bandra Boys as collaborators for the reel.
“I have enough content here for the rest of the week, babe. Let’s see how this reel performs before we figure out our next step. We can ask the viewers if they want to hear the second verse, and so on. That’s how you spin one song over a few weeks until you are ready to drop the whole song on your YouTube channel.”
They all murmured their agreement, and we spent the next hour or so shooting more content while Tanvir and Tarana experimented with different versions of the thumri.
On the way home later that night, Tarana turned to me and gripped my hand hard.
“Do you really think this is going to work, Sunaina? I’m really worried it might backfire, and I don’t want the band to lose their contract because of us.”
“Trust me, babe. Viren is an astute businessman. If your collab takes off, he will sign you as the lead singer for their next album. We just have to keep our fingers crossed and find a way to make it work.”
“How is it doing?” she asked. “I’m too scared to look.”
I pulled out my phone to check the stats and stared at my screen in shock.
“Wow! It’s doing way better than I expected, Tarana. The band’s fans are going crazy over the reel. It’s racking up likes, comments and shares faster than any reel I’ve ever posted,” I whispered.
She looked excited and terrified at the same time when I dropped her off at her place, and I didn’t blame her. We had just proved her talent for everyone to see, but it also meant our moment of reckoning had arrived much faster than we’d expected.