Evil Me - II

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PS: This story is about a singer and her struggles. It's about at what lengths a woman goes to fulfill her dreams. What price she's ready to pay for her ambitions. So I don't want my readers to get scared looking at the length of the post, I am posting this story in 3 episodes, each episode having approximately words. This is the second part of the story. To read first part, click here.

A miracle happened.

Sameer Singh, a famous music director who had given 4 block-buster music albums in last one year, had called me. He had heard me singing when I was giving an audition to his assistant. Feeling jubilant, I had reached the studio. I was full of optimism. It seemed finally the days of my struggle were at the end. As soon as I entered the studio, everything felt weird. The studio was empty, save Sameer Singh. He was sitting alone in his cabin, listening to a hauntingly beautiful tune. It was mesmerizing enough to make me forget that I had come to meet Sameer Singh. When he noticed me standing at the door of his cabin, he switched off the music and called me inside.

“Close the door behind you.” Although I was surprised at his order as there wasn’t anyone to disturb us while talking, I did as he wanted.

“I heard you the other day and you sing really well. Have you taken some classical training?” When I nodded, he continued, “Yes, it’s evident from your sur and rhythm. I have one song for you but it needs to be sung in Malhaar raag. Do you know how to sing that raag?”

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to sing that right now?” When he nodded his ascent, I prayed to the almighty God and closed my eyes to tune out the world. I wanted to enjoy the song that came from the pit of my soul; the song that pulled me in the realm of melody and euphony.

After I finished the song, I opened my eyes and I saw him staring at me as if I had sprung a second head and had announced to the world that I was an alien. I hoped it meant I bagged the contract for the song. Oh God, how I wished it to turn out like that!

“You sing really well. I’d like to sign you up for this song. How much do you charge?”

As I didn’t have any idea how much singers charge normally, I looked at him blankly. Looking at my expressions, he guessed correctly that I didn’t have any idea about it. Smilingly, he told me what regular singers charge. When I heard the amount, my eyes went round. I never imagined that I would be able to earn that much by singing a single song!

Seeing my reaction, his smile turned into a full-blown, belly-deep laughter. “How much do you want to sing this song?”

“Very much.” I was naïve enough to be honest.

“And how would you like to earn double fees?” On this question, my eyes nearly popped out. For a girl hailing from a small village of Gujarat, that would be a small fortune.

“From your expressions I can see that you’d like it very much.” I mutely nodded to him. “But for this, you will have one extra task, and that task would be to make me happy.”

I was thoroughly baffled by this “extra” task. Wasn’t my singing enough to make him happy? Apparently not, as it turned out.

“I love your voice, but I love your luscious body more than that. I want you. Sleep with me and you will have this song with double the normal fees.”

I simply couldn’t believe it was happening with me. Again. Why is it that men can’t think without their dick? Was it really true that men’s brains were below the belt?

And why the hell I’m dithering? I’d already done it once, why not second time? It wasn’t as if I was a virgin! I had already lost it at 16 to that flabby industrialist, hadn’t I? Compared to that industrialist, Sameer Singh was a hunk. He was 6 feet tall with rock-hard muscles that I could see from his torso-hugging shirt. Thinking maybe I’d enjoy fucking him back, I agreed. At the end of the day, I’d signed the contract and had received the entire fees in advanced.

But once wasn’t enough for Sameer. He became addicted to my body. As he had good stamina and staying power, I didn’t mind his addiction. Cherry on the cake was his fascination for my voice. I sang all of his composed songs at double the normal fees. He didn’t mind. He was extracting the payment of every damn paisa in the bedroom. Sometimes he wouldn’t let me sleep throughout the entire night even when I had early morning studio appointments. He was insatiable. I reveled in my power over him.

Everything was going perfect. I was earning a fortune and my songs were becoming hits. My fan following was building up. I had started receiving fan mails in hordes. I was turning into an inspiring model for aspiring singers. Alas, who doesn’t like rags to riches story?

But was everything was beautiful as it looked from the other side?

Of course not.

Everybody could see my success, my wealth, my work, but nobody could see the price I was paying for it. Nobody could see how I traded my body to get the chance that I deserved. Nobody could see how hollow I felt within.

I was living in a 6-bedroom apartment in Malabar Hills, one of the most posh areas of Mumbai, but still it didn’t feel like a home. I could jump the bones of any man I wanted, but still I didn’t feel loved. I could buy any designer dress from the fanciest of boutiques, but still I didn’t feel clothed.

I was naked, hungry and homeless.

And then I met him.