The New World

London, April 2019

Sipping on her tea, she ran her eyes on the first script. Chris was a handy man who has come to check a faulty kitchen faucet. Pari's character is in the shower, when Chris rings the bell. So hastily she comes out, wrapped in a short thread bare bath towel, to check who is at the door. Seeing that a hunky man was waiting with a tool box, she decides to open the door clutching the robe with one hand.

The scripts were so insipid, she thought. There was no imagination. But now she did not complain.

The mainstream adult film audience just wanted to watch action, that was Monty's explanation, when she had cribbed to him one day. We are not going for the Oscars Pari, we do not need to get into scripts that will arouse libido with imagination, he had told her sounding irritated. "I have seen this industry grow from illegal one-room shoddy enterprise to the billion-dollar mammoth it is now. Actors, who acted as body doubles, graduating to mainstream Hollywood, payments going up, legal contracts to guarantee safety and so much more," he had said. "We do not aim to make our productions award worthy. We aim to target raw passion, we show unbridled sex, no pretence."

At the beginning of her career (she still grimaced at the word), she had done plenty of group shots, twosomes, and threesomes. All the combinations. She was shy of baring her body and groups helped her to merge in the shared glare. When movies have sex scenes, often the actual star has her face shot close-up, while the body double does the body shots. But where Pari had landed, the script was real and you did what the script said. You gave consent to and signed for every liberty that would be taken with your body. You were considered lucky, if you did not have to do more, at least initially when you were trying to get a foothold. Though her first day at primary school was a blurred memory, her first day when she had walked into Monty's, then one-room dingy flat, was clear as glass.

It was Ashok da who had taken her there.

London, February 2016

"Hurry up Raahi," Pari called from the kitchen, as she packed sandwiches for lunch. Raahi had a concert practice at school and she and Riaan would drop her off and then go to the park. It was a surprisingly clear morning and Riaan was very excited, as Pari had promised to carry a picnic basket. They would pick up Raahi, after the practice, and go to Ashok da's office. The would be going to Little India; Seema di wanted to finish the monthly grocery shopping. The plan then was to have dinner at Saravanaa. Pari loved these trips to Little India.

They were waiting in the lobby for Ashok to come down. "Kids, you have got to wait a bit. Mama is not yet done. Why don't you come up to my office. We can have ice creams," Ashok da said, as he picked up Riaan. Ashok da's office was a small room, sparsely furnished, mostly with books. Ashok settled them and ordered for ice creams. "How did the practice go," he asked Raahi. Father and daughter started talking and Pari picked up the Mail from a corner rack. She was learning to speak and write in English and Seema di had said that reading the newspaper was a good way to hone her skills.

She looked up hearing a knock on the door. A bespectacled youngish looking man was peeping in, his face washed in a surprised smile, caught in the lens of three pairs of unfamiliar curious eyes. Ashok da asked them to finish their ice creams and went out.

On their way back, the children had fallen asleep, their heads on Pari's lap, while she looked out. It was dark and windy. They had predictions of heavy snowfall. The one thing Pari hated here was the rainy, cold weather. Ashok was driving at a lesser speed, and talking softly to Seema. She heard that the man, the one who had come to Ashok da's room was someone called Monotosh Biswas, and he would be coming to lunch on Sunday.

Ashok and Seema did some lunch preparations for their guest. Monty, as everyone called Monotosh, Pari came to know, lived alone, as his family was in India. Some visa issues, Ashok had mentioned. Apparently Ashok da had not meant to invite Monty for lunch but somehow was manipulated into it. Seema laughed and said, "Ashok loosen up. Don't be so strict with your likes and dislikes." Ashok shrugged and continued to beat the dip to make it fluffy. Pari had finished her daily chores early, so that she could help Seema in frying the beguni and puri, which had to be served hot.

Lunch was a welcome change for Pari. In the time that she had been with them, Pari had seen only two other couples coming home. Ashok and Seema were quiet people and weekends were totally dedicated to home and children. After lunch, while the three of them sat with their coffee, Pari took the children to their bedroom and closed the door.

She had not liked the way Monty was constantly observing her, while she had served the food.

London, April 2019

She and Chris wrapped their unfinished shot. They cut the shot only once, when Robin moved in too close for comfort and Pari stopped. "Cut," shouted Monty, unhappy. Sweat glistened on his face. Pari let out a sigh, "Robin don't come so near. We cannot be us, can we Chris?" Chris signalled that he needed to get going, if they were to get the shot without resorting to medication. Pari upped her bottom provocatively at the camera. Her moves were enticing, languid. The lens was her lover, her actions was power. She had grown to love this power.

Monty had always maintained that porn had to take liberties with reality. Duration, frequency, moves, sizes, all had to be enhanced for the 'bigger than life' image. "It cannot be regular. That's not why we sell what we sell. People enjoy what they think is possible but not there in 'their' life. We titillate that imagination," he would prep talk the new girls and men. "It's just like Hollywood; they sell dreams, all kinds. We sell just one kind," he would say.

Pari sipped on her matcha, as she thumbed through the next script. It was sketchy; a basic scenario and directions to improvise with broad outlines – Pari and Chris, Pari and Matt, Matt and Yovinne and then a DP, which Jackie would do with Chris and Matt – she could make out that it was a Monty original. He did not have the imagination or patience and preferred to let the sex acts play out spontaneously. Good thing was it looked natural, had humour and soft cuddling, whatever the actors were comfortable with, to get going.

It was past midnight, when Pari came home. She felt sore and dead. All she wanted was to immerse herself in the tub of warm water.

Three years, but still the muscles ached. That was her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep.