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Tarak was standing in the kitchen when his mobile rang. He didn't recognize the number, but the politeness instilled in him by his amma would not permit him to ignore it. "Hello?" He answered, his tone clipped and neutral.
"Chota Bhai! Is that you?"
"H-haah, Bhai. I don't recognize this number, where are you calling from?"
Saif laughed. "I'm still in India! Kerala. Ponnani, to be exact. I'm looking at the Lighthouse as we speak. I dropped my mobile in the river, trying to get a photo of a fish that came close to the surface - a stupid, juvenile move on my part. Anyway, that's why you didn't know the number. It's a cheap burner phone I bought to make do with until I come back to the city."
"Theek hai. Will I still see you tomorrow?" Tarak hated how sad and desperate he sounded.
Saif snorted. "Of course! I am getting on a plane in a few hours. I'll be back in Hyderabad in six hours. Siva sir will kill me if I take any more time off. He might decorate the set with my brain matter. Not that I could blame him. I have a lot of apologizing to do, that's for sure!"
Following the abysmal reception and reviews of his latest film, Saif had absconded and gone on holiday with his wife and children, 'until the furor dies down,' as it inevitably would.
Saif had played Ravana, also known as 'Lankesh,' in an adaptation of the Ramayana called 'Adipurush' which was Saif's first Telugu film - contrary to Tarak's previous belief that 'Devara' would be the first.
Tarak hadn't even bothered trying to see the film. Once upon a time, he would have gone to the cinema to see it, if only out of camaraderie and a wish to support his co-star. Now, though, he was loath to do anything for anyone if there was even the slightest chance it might be to his detriment.
Life was simply too short to waste any time.
"I wish you wouldn't even joke like that, Bhai. Surely Siva sir will not be too angry. You are one of the greatest heroes of Bollywood, after all."
"Now you just sound like a sycophant, Chota Bhai! Maybe you have me confused with Salman, or Shah Rukh. We Khans are a confusing lot."
Tarak rolled his eyes, and then realized how dumb and pointless that was. Saif Ali Khan was many things, but he doubted that he could see him through his mobile.
"You are far too humble, Bhai. You are a great hero, and have earned your place among Salman sir and Shah Rukh sir."
Saif sniffed. "Bas, I have to go now, but I will see you tomorrow. Bye, Tarak."
"Ok, Bhai, I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."
Tarak hung up and plugged up his mobile to charge it. The rest of the day stretched before him, ten long, interminable hours that he would have to fill somehow. He thought about sleeping, or cooking something, but neither option held much appeal.
Tarak turned on the television, thinking he might as well at least see what was going on in the world. He flipped through several channels, bypassing the usual celebrity gossip, cricket scores and game commentary, and political propaganda and mud-slinging.
After going through all the channels and finding nothing interesting, he turned the television off and stuffed the remote control down underneath the divan, so that he could resist throwing it against the wall.
With a grunt, Tarak pushed himself up off the divan and stomped back into the kitchen, gathering a whisk, a bowl, a frying pan, a bag of sugar, a bag of flour, a quart of almond milk, and a single egg from a carton of six.
As if he were moving on autopilot, Tarak cracked the egg, added a few spoonfuls of sugar, a cup of milk, and a glass of flour. He whisked everything together and set the pan on a burner set to a low heat level.
When Charan touched him, pressing his face in the space between his shoulder blades, Tarak released a sigh and melted into his arms, his body going as slack and formless as a jellyfish. "What's wrong, anna? What are you doing?"
Tarak straightened and moved the frying pan off of the stove top. "I'm making pancakes, because I'm bored. There's nothing good to watch on the telly, and nothing else to really do. Why are you here?"
Charan stuck a fork in the so-called 'pancake,' blew on it, and brought it to his mouth to take a bite. "It's not bad. It just needs a little more salt, and maybe some ghee. 'Why am I here?' That's an odd question. I live here, too, you know."
He held the fork in front of Tarak's mouth. Tarak took a bite, and made a face. "Ugh, it needs a lot more than just some more salt and ghee! It tastes terrible. I didn't mean it that way, Cherry, I'm literally just so bored that I hardly know what I'm saying."
"Sarē. I'm sure you don't remember, but you had a few days like this on set, too. Days when you were so full of apathy and ennui that you didn't even react when I tried to tickle you. I wonder if it'll get any sort of reaction now?"
Before Tarak could protest, Charan brushed his fingernails under his armpits, eliciting an indignant bark and boisterous laughter. Charan dropped the fork, and it hit the floor with a clatter beside them as they fell, too.
When his laughter faded away, Tarak held Charan's face and kissed his cheek. "Cherry, how long have we known each other? About fourteen years?"
"Yes, more or less." Charan nodded.
"And how often have you seen me like that? Bored, listless, whatever you want to call it?"
Charan shrugged. He didn't have to answer, but if he did, Tarak knew what he would say: "Pretty often..."
"I guess it's part and parcel with my depression. I'll have a few moments of actual bliss, like when I met you. But then, the dullness of everyday life sets in, and I pretty much lose my mind, so then I have to wait around for something else to come along and pique my interest and get me through the boredom."
Charan frowned and pressed his palms to Tarak's cheeks. "You don't sound well, bangaram. Are you taking your medicine like you're supposed to?"
Tarak closed his eyes. "Yes, Cherry, I am taking my medicine like I'm supposed to. I've stopped taking the Atarax, now I'm only on Prozac, 40mg once a day. It's a hell of a lot better than the Paxil was, to be sure. I can tell the difference with it."
Charan kissed his eyelids. "Sarē. I don't mean to hover, I just wanted to check on you. I'll go, if you want me to…"
"No," Tarak shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. He knew he would cry when he opened them and saw Charan's expression. "Don't go! Stay with me, Charan."