On the evening of the party, Sanya met Arjun near the station. He wore a dark navy jacket, his hair styled more carefully than usual. It was quite different from his typical T-shirt look, and Sanya couldn’t help smiling, telling him it suited him well. He blushed slightly, admitting he wasn’t used to formal clothes. Sanya, for her part, wore a slightly more vibrant salwar kameez than usual, along with a subtle hair accessory—just enough to match the occasion.
Their destination was a banquet hall in a luxurious hotel in central Kochi. Passing through the entrance, they saw an expansive, ornately decorated space. While there was no red carpet, the stylish lighting, floral arrangements, and stream of well-dressed guests gave the place a glamorous air. Most attendees wore suits or dresses, making Sanya feel a bit self-conscious as she registered alongside Arjun.
Inside, long tables laden with food stretched across one side of the hall, while clusters of guests mingled in the center. A dazzling chandelier cast shimmering light everywhere, and a few photographers along the walls snapped pictures. Overwhelmed, Sanya took in the scene, thinking, This must be Arjun’s father’s world—a scale far beyond anything I’ve known.
Shortly after, Arjun’s phone vibrated with an incoming call from his father. Apologizing, he stepped away to answer, leaving Sanya momentarily on her own. Surrounded by a swirl of unfamiliar faces and the party’s bustling energy, she sipped her chilled drink, wondering how Arjun was managing and what business might be unfolding here.
“Sanya, right? Are you with Arjun?”
A woman in a stylish dress approached with a friendly smile. She introduced herself as part of the publicity team at Arjun’s father’s company. Sanya felt a slight tension in the woman’s gaze, though outwardly she was pleasant.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about Arjun,” she said, “He’s very talented, and his father has high hopes for him.”
Her polite but inquisitive expression made Sanya uneasy, and before long came the inevitable question, “So, what’s your relationship with him?” Sanya hurriedly explained they were friends studying film together. The woman handed her a business card and departed, leaving Sanya feeling faintly scrutinized.
Arjun reappeared, wearing a taut expression. “My father wants me to meet someone important. Could you come with me for a bit?”
She nodded, and they made their way to the far side of the hall. There, a tall man in a sharply tailored gray suit stood with a regal-looking woman in a dazzling sari—the central figures of the gathering. Sanya quickly realized they must be Arjun’s father, the renowned producer Mr. Sharma, and his wife.
“Arjun, you’re late,” Mr. Sharma said curtly, then prompted his son, “Introduce yourself.”
Arjun, clearly forcing a neutral tone, said, “Hi, Father. This is my friend Sanya.” Sanya managed a hesitant smile and thanked Mr. Sharma for inviting her. He gave her the briefest glance— “A friend, huh,” he muttered—then turned back to Arjun.
“That major project we discussed? I need your plot outline soon. I’m counting on you.”
Arjun frowned. “But that script is supposed to focus on a star actor, with lots of action—”
“Of course it is,” his father snapped. “We’re giving the masses what they want. If you’re hell-bent on social issues, keep them as minor seasoning.”
Sanya felt her chest tighten. Arjun’s father was adamantly commercial, leaving little room for the socially conscious stories Arjun yearned to write. Mrs. Sharma, her expression strained, softly scolded her husband for discussing family matters at a party, but Mr. Sharma remained unapologetic.
Nearby, Sanya spotted a towering poster emblazoned with the face of a famous actor—likely the marquee project Mr. Sharma was producing. Its lavish design suggested a big-budget, flashy blockbuster, sure to make waves in the industry. But it also symbolized the clash with Arjun’s quieter ambitions. She sensed the futility of expecting any support for his indie venture in such a dynamic.
“Our job is to deliver what the crowd demands,” Mr. Sharma declared. Then, noticing someone calling him from across the room, he strode off with his wife trailing behind. Arjun and Sanya stood there in awkward silence, exchanging a glance brimming with frustration.
“Sorry you had to see that,” Arjun said in a low voice. “Father never listens to a word I say.”
Sanya shook her head. “I’d heard rumors, but he really exudes a lot of pressure in person.” She glanced around. Groups of industry notables chatted boisterously, their laughter echoing under the bright lights. Amid the opulence, Arjun seemed isolated.
“By all logic, I should be networking right now, forging connections. But I just… can’t get into it,” Arjun admitted wearily.
Taking a glass from a table, Sanya handed it to him gently. “Look, we might as well mingle a little, see what information we can gather. It might help you stay true to what you want, while finding possibilities along the way. There are so many people here—who knows what might come of it?”
Arjun hesitated, then exhaled with a half-smile. “You’re right. Thank you. Let’s give it a try.”
They began weaving through the crowd, occasionally spotting acquaintances from Arjun’s network. Some recognized his earlier script, while others represented media outlets or production crews. Even a brief exchange of business cards could yield future leads. Sanya kept up a friendly demeanor, supporting Arjun as he made polite conversation. The grandiose setting felt worlds apart from the small workshops they knew, but Arjun’s resolve to do something meaningful shone through in the way he introduced himself.
Toward the party’s end, Mr. Sharma took a microphone on stage to announce upcoming cast news for his large-scale production, offering thanks to the guests. Sanya watched Arjun’s silent profile. She guessed that big projects wield immense influence, yet she sensed Arjun’s aspirations lay somewhere else, reflecting quieter but urgent voices in society.
When the speech concluded and applause filled the hall, Arjun turned to Sanya. Something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, yet also a firm resolve.
“Thanks for coming,” he said quietly. “Seeing Father like that… it makes me realize I’m not ready to ride that big wave yet.”
Sanya offered a gentle smile. “Arjun, what you truly want to create is important. I’m here to support that, in whatever small way.”
Across the room, guests clinked glasses and posed for photographs, camera flashes brightening the final moments of the evening. Amid the glamorous spotlight, everyone sought their place, including Arjun and Sanya. She sensed they were slowly carving out their own path within the film world, forging ahead in the swirling heat of that lavish hall.
