The one where he creates music in - his personal studio; so personal that the door has been locked. Twice.
He leads me to a spacious room, equipped with microphones, instruments and this line of gadgets that I have absolutely no idea about. It looks extremely professional.
"Welcome to my comfort space", he tugs at a beanbag and gestures me to take a seat. Comfort space. Sure. Equipped with gadgets that cost a hundred thousand rupees.
"Is this where your purpose lies?", I ask him and look around. I hear him chuckle, before he falls back on a beanbag and stretches his legs out, whilst throwing his head back.
"Everything lies here. You have no idea", he tells me, calmly, and smiles, staring at the illuminated ceiling.
"I love the space. It's beautiful", I compliment. "I designed and planned out everything in this room", he reveals. "Here's my most favourite corner. Come here, I'll show you", he springs up and strides to the corner in the room, crammed with frames.
"The timeline. This was my first performance. I think I was 15 and I performed at an Uncle's wedding", he pointed at an old, rusty picture. "I spilled coffee over it around 6 years ago, but I love this picture so much. You know, sometimes even when things are distorted, the memories of it are simply so vivid. This is one of that", he tells me and I smile.
"You were a fat kid", I giggle and he darts a death stare in my direction, keeping his hands on his hip. "I'm showing you an extremely integrate part of my life, and all you care about is the fact that I was fat", he utters, unimpressed, and I laugh softly, looking at the other pictures.
"The story behind this?", I draw his attention to a picture, where he's playing the guitar in front of the Eiffel Tower. "Nothing special. I've travelled around Europe. A lot. And you know, the people there perform on the streets and underground metro stations for money. Whoever enjoys the performance can drop down some coins. I didn't need the money, but I wanted the experience. So my friend and I planned a secret flight to Paris, without telling anyone, and we sang on every random street we wanted to. It's one of the best memories I have", he recalls, smiling.
"And this? Are you standing with Vishal Dadlani?", I interrogate, looking closely at a picture. "This was at an audition; my first and last. Vishal Dadlani and a bunch of other renowned singers were judging the show. I was selected, but then, I had to discontinue", his voice drops and he looks down at his hands.
"It was--A.R. Rahman was the ambassador for the show and the winner had the chance to sing in his movies", he smiles and a moment later, shakes his head to the sides, walking away from his memories.
Pictures are a Portal to good times, and they're also a constant reminder about how life would've been different if certain things never fell into spaces the way they did.
"This is my favourite guitar. I bought it from Paris", he randomly tell me, running his fingers over a polished, wooden guitar and takes it to his hand. "Can you play something?", I look at him. "Shoot a suggestion", he raises his eyebrow and sits down on the beanbag, comfortably.
"Kal Ho Na Ho? It's one of my favourites", I suggest and he stops to think for a moment, before tugging the strings. Oh my God, he's actually playing Kal Ho Na Ho, but moments after starting, he fumbles and makes a mistake. It must've been my evil eye.
"Fuck!", he cusses, dropping his head down, forcing his hair to fall over his eyes. "I haven't done this in a while, and I get extremely nervous around people", he breathes. I don't know what exactly to say at this moment.
"Off late, music has been extremely personal to me, I haven't played around people in a while. Suddenly, your presence is intimidating", he smiles and keeps the guitar aside. "Maybe I'll play it for you after a little practice", he says.
"Why did you stop?", I dart the question at him, and sit down on the beanbag right next to him. He stares at the carpeted floor for a long while, without moving or answering. Okay, that question was a little too personal. Why did I even ask him that?
"You don't have to answer that. Let's set up the computer for the meeting", I utter in one breath. "There's nothing wrong in that question", he tells me and I calm down, a little. I honestly I crossed the lines. For the second time today.
"Well...", he drags and rubs the side of his neck, squinting his eyes. "Where do I start from?", he breathes in.
"I figured out that music was my thing when I was around 19. I went to music class as part of extra-curricular activity at school and it has stayed with me since then! And I don't need to tell you about my family background, or my dad - you know everything inside-out. From the start, he wanted me to get takeover his business. I did my MBA, but when I felt that the driving force was missing, I turned to making music. In my room, I'd mix music and sing and everything. I thought it would be a great career", he pauses and I know where this story is going now.
"I chose music over the business. Dad didn't approve it at all. But I rebelled. I went against his words and when he stopped talking to me, it didn't bother me at all. After all, I was doing what I love, what could be better than that, right? But two things, Navya - it takes years to grow in the industry, any industry in that matter, and I didn't have my family's support", he smiles, but the joy in his smile is missing.
"And when it comes down to choosing between family or passion, you'll have to choose family, isn't it?", I prompt. "Always!", he backs me up. "I figured out that there's nothing I could do with my success if I didn't have a family to celebrate it with. My dad was so happy because I finally decided to takeover his business; that happiness on his face is unmatched. I had to let go of a lot to get a hold of that smile on his face, but that's life, right? You cannot have everything. There's always going to be an empty spot you can do nothing about", he shrugs.
"Also, my older brother - Daksh - lives and runs our Canadian firm. You must've heard from everyone around that he dated Kesha and my dad absolutely hated the idea of that", he pauses and I nod my head in agreement, immediately.
"He tried convincing my parents and it didn't work. He broke-up as my parents wished, moved to Canada and stopped talking to them. I mean, I do understand how Daksh feels, but that move sort of broke dad. So, you know, I had to give up on my passion because it would've made dad even more sad. One son completely stopped talking to him, and I didn't want him to think that the other one simply doesn't respect him enough to do what he wants us to do", he narrates.
"Life honestly gives you a lot to choose from, but eventually it all comes down to the choices you make - and you could the options entirely in your favour, or choose the make others happy, too", he says and I simply smile at him. I just don't know what to say.
"Now, I come here to chill and it's more of a personal space", he concludes. "Also...", he whispers, leaning forward and gestures me to join him. I lean forward, too. "...this is a secret between us. You better not tell your Devesh Sir", he whispers softly. "I promise I won't", I whisper back, too, smiling. "Okay, coffee is ready", he hushes and we laugh, rising to our feet.
He locks his Secret Chamber away and we walk back into the daylight in his living room.
That was a completely different side of him. I never thought he was someone who would compromise or let go, looking at how he behaved in the start. But after all of this, I'm looking into a completely different person - one who knows about compassion and love inside-out. People were so wrong about him. About him being hard to be with, and all of that crap. Being around him is just inspiring and he carries this good vibe wherever he goes, it's never dull.
"Madam, your Cappuccino", he keeps a mug on the table. "When are you going to quit calling me that?", I roll my eyes. "The day you quit calling me Sir", he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. "You know that I cannot do that", I tell him. "Well, then - sorry.com, Madam", he smiles, mischievously.
"You can call me Darshan when we're out of the office, at least. I'm probably just a few months older than you", he emphasizes. "I'll try", I say back and he sighs, shaking his head to the sides.
After - what I'd call - a never-ending day of conversations, we set-up the laptop for the first round of video conference with Mr. Ramesh, and honestly it goes as smooth as butter.
"You're such a liar. You said you don't know anything about the Business World. You're too good at it!", I tell him and he smiles, relaxing on the couch, while I pack things up.
"I've heard about business all my life. It'll be a shame if I don't even know about the alphabet", he says. "You know way more than just that. Stop underestimating yourself", I remind him. "I mean, you can be a successful businessman and a great musician", I shrug my shoulders.
"Will you talk to Devesh Sir on my behalf?", he looks at me. "I have to go, bye!", I stand up and he laughs.
"Thank you for coming all the way", he flashes a grateful smile at me. "I was making some music, I really didn't want to attend the meeting from the office", he explains. "We can do whatevers convenient for you...Sir!", I tease and he smiles.
"Shall I drop you home?", he offers. I wouldn't mind a free ride back home, honestly, but that'll be too much to ask for. "Thank you, I'll book a cab", I decline. "Sure? I can drop you", he insists. "Sure! Thank you, though, Sir", I gratefully smile at him and start walking away.
It was such a good day. I genuinely forgot about my problems around him. I wish I could've stayed a little longer, because as I walk out of the doors of his apartment - I'm walking into a world of my own struggles!
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