Shamnath, the popular film star, looked pretty glum. He went about with a long face, hardly talking to anyone. Even during the shooting of a film, he shunned company as he went off to sit alone between shots.
His friends had no idea as to why Shamnath was being so sulky. When they tried to talk to him about it, he just shrugged. It had become a big mystery.
One day, the president of the Shamnath Fan Club came over to see him. An ardent Shamnath fan, the president, Dasappa, tried to look as much like Shamnath as possible. His hair was combed up in trademark Shamnath fashion. He wore a loose coat, which was yet another style symbol of Shamnath.
‘We heard something is wrong, boss,’ said Dasappa. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’
‘I haven’t told anyone about this,’ said Shamnath. ‘But I’ll tell you. Well… I am depressed. Terribly depressed.’
‘But why? What’s the matter?’ Dasappa suddenly seemed perturbed.
‘You see, one superstar has been kidnapped by a forest brigand. And someone has threatened a Bollywood star that he will be kidnapped soon.’
‘You mean Badabee?’
‘Yeah. And the actress Chanda Chameli may also be abducted. Or so I’ve heard. Can you imagine?’
‘Don’t worry, boss,’ assured Dasappa. ‘You’re never going to get kidnapped. You are the Shamnath.’
‘It’s not that, Dasappa,’ Shamnath cut him off. ‘These folks were threatened because they are popular. They have even threatened an aged star like Shakti Kumar. So, what about me? Am I not popular? Why am I yet to receive any such threats?’
‘So, that’s what it is?’ Dasappa smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll do something about it.’
♦♦♦
In a couple of days, Dasappa organized a rally of Shamnath fans.
A lot of unemployed young men and women were paid to squat on the road and block traffic. And so they did.
They held banners that said, ‘Kidnap the film star Shamnath! He’s the greatest!’
‘Kidnappers, you cannot ignore Shamnath!’ read another banner.
The media flocked to the spot. Cameras also caught the police pleading with the protestors.
‘It will be an indefinite road block until our hero is recognized as the most popular and is, therefore, abducted,’ thundered Dasappa in a press statement.
Soon enough, the entire state was agog with excitement. ‘Will the famous film star, Shamnath, be kidnapped?’ was the question on everyone’s lips.
Cinema halls made the most of the situation, advertising Shamnath’s movies as though they were his last. ‘See Shamnath while you can. Who knows what tomorrow holds for the superstar?’ read one poster outside a theater.
♦♦♦
One day, Dasappa received a phone call. ‘Meet me at Thambi’s Café tomorrow at ten,’ ordered a voice. ‘I will be wearing a striped shirt, a black cap, and dark glasses,’ he said before hanging up.
‘Hello? Hello?’ Dasappa yelled in vain. Confused, he put the receiver down.
♦♦♦
The next day, Dasappa was at Thambi’s Café well ahead of time. He sat at a table and ordered a cup of coffee. Exactly at ten, a short man in a black cap and dark glasses walked into the restaurant and walked straight up to Dasappa.
‘Do I know you?’ inquired Dasappa.
‘No, but I do,’ remarked the man. He pulled a chair close to Dasappa and sat down.
The man gestured to the waiter to get him a cup of coffee.
‘May I know your name?’ Dasappa asked.
‘No names, please. Need-to-know basis only,’ quipped the man. ‘I belong to an organization called the Four C’s. That’s all you need to know.’
‘What do the Four C’s stand for?’
‘That’s a story for later,’ said the man. There was a brief silence as the waiter showed up with the coffee. After he left, the man spoke again. ‘You want Shamnath kidnapped, don’t you? Well, I can make it happen.’
‘How?’
‘Well, he needs to voluntarily come with us. We’ll keep him in hiding for as long as needed.’
‘What will be the ransom?’
‘We can think of that later. Do you want him kidnapped or not?’
‘Yes, we do,’ said Dasappa. He was already beginning to look at himself as the chief negotiator in this matter, giving press interviews and appearing on TV channels.
‘It will cost you a lot of money.’
‘How much money are we talking?’
‘Twenty-five lakhs.’
‘That’s a lot!’
‘Take it or leave it. It’s peanuts for Shamnath, if you ask me,’ the man got up.
‘Hold on,’ said Dasappa. ‘I’ll check with Shamnath and let you know tomorrow.’
‘Alright. Same place, same time,’ saying so, the man left.
♦♦♦
Shamnath was chuffed to bits when Dasappa told him about his conversation with the mysterious stranger.
‘Just five days, and then they can send me back,’ he remarked enthusiastically. ‘And twenty-five lakhs isn’t a lot. I charge much more than that for each film I work in.’
Dasappa contacted the guy in the black cap the following day. Everything was fixed, and the stage was set for Shamnath’s abduction.
♦♦♦
A couple of days later, Dasappa drove Shamnath to a spot on the Juhu Beach just as it was getting dark. Shamnath was carrying a suitcase full of clothes, several bottles of mineral water, and a number of tablets. He also had a bundle containing twenty-five lakh rupees. Another car soon pulled up beside theirs.
Accompanied by two men, the black-cap guy got out and greeted Shamnath pleasantly.
The “kidnappers” then transferred Shamnath and his luggage to their car.
‘Wait, where are you taking him?’ inquired Dasappa.
‘Your job is over. You may leave now,’ the guy wearing the black cap said. While worried, Dasappa had no choice but to drive off quietly.
♦♦♦
The following day, the papers were full of news about Shamnath’s kidnapping. TV stations kept telecasting the news every hour.
Shamnath’s fans were jubilant.
‘At last, our hero has got the recognition he deserves,’ they proclaimed.
They were out dancing in the streets. Some fans even pelted stones at buses just for the fun of it.
Two days passed without any word from the kidnappers. The police were already looking into the matter. They had no clue who was responsible for Shamnath’s abduction. Just when they seemed to have run into a dead end, the Film Producers’ Association received a letter. The letterhead read “Four C’s”. The meaning of this cryptic name became clear when the president read the letter out in a press conference.
“Our organization is called the Citizens’ Council for Clean Cinema – that is, Four C’s. We have been watching and putting up with Mr. Shamnath’s on-screen antics for over twenty years. His egotism, vulgar dances, and pretense of being a young romantic hero even when he has passed the age of fifty, disgust us.
We have made him pay a fine of twenty-five lakh rupees for his assault on everything that is clean, decent, and wholesome. We will be donating this amount to an old-age home. Our organization consists of several eminent judges, professors, doctors, lawyers, and numerous housewives.
We are all for healthy, inspirational entertainment. All these years, Shamnath has tested our patience to its limits, but now we have him in our custody, and we call the shots now. We will return him unharmed if we get a written undertaking that you will not hire him for any more movies.
If you are going to make a promise you do not intend to keep, we may have to explore other means to keep him out of movies.”
Every newspaper printed this letter in full. TV channels read it out in their news bulletins.
The Film Producers’ Associated called for an urgent meeting to discuss the demand made by the Four C’s. One by one, the producers rose to speak, and since there were no press reporters, they spoke freely.
‘For years and years, Shamnath has been demanding insane sums of money from us. His foreign trips and extravagant costumes have cost us a lot of money,’ said one.
‘And he insists on having forty dancers to accompany him in every dance number. Each dancer requires four or five different costumes per dance,’ added another.
‘Even when the films do well, most of the profit goes into his pocket. This is a nice excuse to drop him once and for all,’ commented another producer.
Meanwhile, Shamnath’s fans had gathered outside in huge numbers and yelled slogans. ‘Drop Shamnath from films and save his life,’ they screamed in unison before stoning a few more buses.
♦♦♦
The producers soon signed a declaration stating that they would never book Shamnath for their movies thereafter. As soon as the news broke out, Shamnath’s fans began cheering in the streets. ‘Hurrah!’ they proclaimed. ‘Our hero’s life will be spared! He’s coming back!’
To express their unbridled joy, they went ahead and broke the windshields of another couple of buses.
Shamnath came back home quietly one evening and retired to a massive cardamom estate he owned.
No one has seen Dasappa since.
As fond of writing a good story as he is of reading one, Pravin is one of the most promising writers at Ameya. He can be contacted at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com.