English August by Roopa Sarah Thomas

Rahul “English August” Bose has been a source of much excitement from the time I joined college in Pune. When a friend called home to tell me that I had made it to the final list, she excitedly told my mother about the special guest during our initiation.

“Aunty, The Rahul Bose is one of the speakers.”

“Rahul who”, asked my mother wondering why this unfamiliar name was causing so much excitement.

“English August,” I screamed from this side, equally excited. I made repeated calls to various other friends telling them that I was going to meet Rahul Bose. I however chose not to tell these friends that he never showed up eventually.

Some of my new classmates were annoyed. “Maybe it was just a gimmick to get us to come early”. And several were amused because it certainly had worked.

However, we weren’t disappointed for too long. When the yearly communication festival was being planned, the seniors made sure Rahul Bose was being invited as well. And luckily for us, he agreed.

We were all divided into various committees. While some got to be part of sponsorship, food, transport and media, others got to be part of the speakers committee. A lucky few got to escort Shaan, who was performing for us.

I was part of the Speakers committee. While the seniors in charge had to perform tasks such as inviting speakers, the juniors got to escort these speakers from the airport to their hotel and to the venue. So when we were handed out lists of people we were to escort, I said a little prayer, “Oh God, please make sure Rahul Bose is on my list.”

But unfortunately I was assigned an array of editors. And the senior in charge helped herself to the man we were all eyeing. Along with the names of the editors, I was given a profile of each editor. “Make intellectual conversation,” we were told.

“Talk about their hobbies, they will like it,” came another helpful suggestion. But that didn’t really help as one editor had taken a fancy towards psychological warfare and another was interested in “politics in the northeastern states.” After looking through a few newspapers and magazines I decided to go to the airport wearing my best smile. I’d also decided to play dumb. But I was lucky because all three of them (editor of The Pioneer, a CNBC anchorperson, and the editor of The Week) began a conversation about Salman Khan. So from the airport to the hotel, we spoke about the Salman-Aishwarya affair!

They had interesting interactive sessions with an highly enthusiastic audience. But the auditorium was packed when Rahul Bose made his appearance. I stood at the entrance wearing a kasavu (an off-white sari with gold zari) sari. The much-awaited car arrived and a short man with blond hair stepped out.

Smiling he said to all of us who were staring, “I’ve done this to my hair for a movie.” When he stepped on to the stage, the entire auditorium started clapping. The audience listened to him with rapt attention. “Movies are a representation of life,” he said emphatically. And forgetting what else he had to say, he squatted down to look at his notes. Those armed with cameras began clicking furiously. After a short pause, he continued to compare Bollywood with Hollywood. “They made a comedy, or a musical, or a suspense thriller, but we Indians use a little bit of all these ingredients in our films. And that is what spoils these films.” The sympathetic few nodded, till someone from the audience got up and questioned the man.

“You said movies are a representation of life. And life isn’t just a comedy or a musical or a tragedy. So aren’t we Indians making movies that are true to life.” The audience clapped and turned to a poised Rahul Bose, awaiting his reply.

I don’t really remember what he said in reply to that question, because my friend was poking my elbow.

“What?” I asked irritably.

“I wonder if I will be able to flick the bottle he is drinking water out of,” she replied. The both of us ended up giggling.

The talk didn’t last for too long because there was not enough time. And when he got off the stage, my friend rushed to the stage to pick up the bottle she was eyeing. “Rahul Bose drank water out of it,” she gushed. But the senior in charge had other plans and we were driven off stage. No one knows what became of that bottle.

Not much was learned, for most of us preferred staring to listening. The man was a hit, despite the fact that most of us hadn’t watched too many of his films. But as quickly as he came, he left. And we didn’t take too long to recover either. From gushing about Upamanyu Chatterjee’s Agastya, we diverted our attention to Shaan, who was performing in the evening. So wearing our glittery best, we got ready for the next celeb on list. Now, that is another story.