Chapter 1: The Impossible Chit

The reality show’s rules were deceptively simple: call up someone from the industry and get them to say a particular phrase—without letting them know the whole nation was listening in.

The phrase was decided by picking chits. When I unfolded mine, my stomach did a full somersault—

[Prompt: Are you mad or what?]

Kya yaar, what sort of prompt is this? It felt just like those weird comprehension questions from CBSE English, the kind that haunt you long after school’s done. My mind flashed back to those endless exam halls, sweating through papers while teachers asked things that made you question your own dimaag. Even now, CBSE English follows you—job interviews, shaadi meetings, everywhere!

“Arrey, this one’s impossible, Director, please let my Priya-didi pick again.”

Before I could protest more, Ritika sidled up, looping her arm through mine and giving it a friendly shake. She squeezed my arm, her bangles clinking, like we were childhood friends at a shaadi sangeet.

This girl, yaar. She’s a full-on natak queen.

We’d known each other for less than half an hour, but already she was acting like my choti behen from the same mohalla. She smelled faintly of Pond’s talcum powder—the very same one my massi-jis used on hot summer afternoons. She even cocked her head just right, putting on the “good girl” act for the whole country.

I managed a smile, but inside, I was melting under the studio lights. “No need, I’ll stick with this one.” My voice sounded braver than I felt; sweat prickled on my upper lip and I silently wished for a cold Limca or at least a break from these blazing lights.

[Barrage: What’s Meera’s problem? Ritika is just looking out for her, why the attitude?]

[Barrage: Poor Ritu, even on a show she gets bullied.]

[Barrage: Classic girl-on-girl rivalry, ignoring the girls but flirting non-stop with the guys.]

[Barrage: I’ve watched her for a few episodes—always joking around with Kabir, total guy-magnet.]

[Barrage: Ritu, just give up, you treat her like a friend but she just uses you as a prop.]

These netizen comments, yaar—always so quick to judge! Privacy? Ha! Even my chachi in Kanpur will call tonight and ask, “Beta, why aren’t you smiling properly on TV?”

Keeping my head down, I tried to ignore the barrage and focus on who to call. Only one person would ever say something that pagal, and that too with full swag…

But if I failed, I’d be stuck with Ritika as my partner all day. No, thank you!

I glanced at the screen. Ritika was still hamming it up, pretending to be all loving and loyal. “What are you saying? Meera-didi and I are super close, I like Meera-didi, and she treats me really well too.”

She even pouted and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, just like a Bollywood heroine in the first act. I could almost hear the violins in my head.

Chalo, enough is enough. One minute of embarrassment is better than a whole day of it.

As I waited for the dial tone, the HD camera zoomed in for a perfect shot of my phone—and the contact name I’d saved for Superstar Arjun Malhotra.

[Young man with a perky bum and a sharp tongue]

Arrey baap re, I’d forgotten about the contact note! I fiddled with my bracelet, wishing I could just disappear under the studio floor. Everyone stared like I’d grown a second head. I forced a couple of awkward laughs.

Trying to play it cool, I said, “Ahem, lost a game of truth or dare, forgot to change it back.”

The flashy ringtone kept going. If he didn’t pick up in ten seconds, I’d be finished.

The studio tension was thick as dahi. The smell of samosas from the greenroom drifted over as the aunties in the back row started whispering behind their dupattas.

Ritika patted my shoulder, fake-concerned. “It’s okay, Arjun was shooting a night scene yesterday. He’s probably still asleep.”

Oh ho, you know his schedule so well, haan? I bit my tongue, the AC on full blast but the air still felt heavy with everyone’s expectation.