I ran into Piyush
Mishra at NSD on Sunday. We had returned from shoot just that morning, and I
had gone straight home with no intention of stepping out again, but a few hours
and a series of phone calls later, found myself at Café Turtle at Khan Market
with the same film crew, or what was left of it in Delhi. Manav was keen to go
to NSD and the rest of us followed- I intended to take the Metro from Mandi
House, and the others wanted to hang out at the Theatre Festival.
So anyway, I ran
into Piyush Mishra. I walked up to him with hands folded in a namaskar, like I
always do. He was his flamboyant self, saying Manav mila, usne bola Pooja
Sharma ne film shoot ki hai. Main bola kaun Pooja Sharma! I laughed and said,
haan aapko to naam se kabhi yaad nahin rahega. ‘Arre tumhara naam hi aisa hai,
duniya mein karoron Sharma hain. Mera naam bhi Priyakant Sharma tha, maine badal
dala.’ I know this, I told him. I have read the Caravan interview, though I
didn’t remember his exact name, and certainly not that he was a Sharma.
This conversation
reminded me of another conversation I had had with my father many years back,
while on an after dinner walk. I was in high school then, and was due to appear
for my 10th Board exams that year. It was my last opportunity (or so
I thought) to change my name. I didn’t like my name. I wasn’t sure what I
wanted it to be, the alternatives were equally unimaginative, now that I think
about it- Priya or Priyanka… but anything would be better than Pooja, I had
then thought. So on that walk I casually asked my father, so who kept my name?- hoping to start a conversation that I would eventually veer towards the idea of
changing it. It was me, he said. But Pooja was not such a common name back
then, he added apologetically. In that moment my heart melted. To hell with it,
I thought.
And Pooja Sharma
I stayed.
