The Star

"You just wait and see Kala they’ll be here. They’ll be knocking on my door soon.”

Kala smiled, she didn’t know whether to support the old lady’s notion or laugh at it. It had become a daily routine while Kala oiled the old lady’s hair now white with a few grey and black remnants of her youth. That’s all that was left of those good old days. How could she tell the old lady that nobody remembered her any longer! There were new ones in her place now. They danced to the new beats and were semi clad, plastered with white, red and god knows what colours on those faces. They had succeeded in gaining the public’s attention. The good old days when her mistress shone in the limelight like the Kohinoor among the other small jewels on the crown were days gone by.
Then she wondered, “What! Tell her and break her poor heart.” Kala had been the old lady’s help ever since she had been living in her own large bungalow in Bombay. Now funds were short, the old lady had to shift into the small crummy flat. Her health was almost failing, the doctor had advised her fresh air. Fresh air here in the city! What was he thinking! The old womans chatter interrupted her. “They’ll definitely be here tomorrow, after all they wont forget the beauty who sang and danced her way into the hearts of millions of Indians.

They definitely wont forget me? Will they Kala? Kala, will they? “No they won’t.” Kala said reassuringly.” They’ll be here tomorrow and you have to look pretty. So get some beauty sleep now. Good night.”“Good night Kala see that you make some garam pakoras tomorrow when they come. Don’t let me remind you again.“Ok, Ok! Now go off to sleep. Kala went off to her room and slept as soon as she set her head on her pillow.
The next morning Kala put the milk to boil and applying some butter on a chapatti went into the old lady’s room. She was sleeping like a baby as usual. Here your breakfast is almost ready. She touched her and at once knew something was wrong. She was cold. Just then the doorbell rang.The next day Kala received the copy of ‘The Star’ –the famous film city magazine, it had the picture of her mistress on the cover. ‘The gem of Indian cinema passed away leaving thousands of her ardent fans in deep sorrow. Her soulful songs, graceful melodies will remain immortal in the heart of every Indian., she read out to herself tearily.
Kala wrapped up the leftover pakoras in the magazines and said to herself while she threw it into the bin. “No they didn’t forget you Malkin they never did.”