Few people had heard of a tiny suburb on the outskirts of Mumbai, which went by the name of ‘Karjat’. Those who knew of Karjat, also knew that it housed a huge Film and Television production studio. This studio was frequented by glamourous stars, shooting for historical epics & other such high-budget films. Spread across 52 Acres of lush green land, boasting majestic sets, the magnificent world of ‘ND studios’ was a dreamland – accessible through a single gate, flanked by a set of dutiful guards. It was in front of this gate, that one would often find the ever-wistful Ranga.

Ranga would stand for hours as the scorching sun shone relentlessly, taking some comfort under the cool shade of the old banyan tree; which much like Ranga, had firmly taken root outside the studios. There was nothing outstanding about Ranga, apart from the fact that he’d often been told that he looked like a skinnier, bearded version of the great Mr. Rumit Pelm. Ranga loved this reference, for it considerably cheered up his otherwise dreary existence.

After a whole day of offering strenuous rickshaw rides, to just hear that he resembled the greatest actor of his generation, made his heart sing! Riding his cycle-rickshaw made Ranga just enough money to pay his share of rent for a tiny shack he shared with 3 others, and to buy himself a couple of teas & two plates of stale Paratha-gravy every day. Ranga scrimped & scrounged together some money to send home to his family back in Kollur.

Kollur was where Ranga grew up, it was home, and he missed it terribly. It was a small temple district, nestled atop of a densely forested hill, somewhere amongst the serene mountains of southern India. Here Ranga had spent the majority of his life. His father had been a security guard at the Goddess’s temple, and his mother cooked at the priest’s house. Together, they’d earned enough to educate Ranga as well as they could – given that the district had one school, which didn’t feel the need to impart education beyond the 10th Grade.

After Ranga passed his exams and married his childhood sweetheart to no one’s surprise, his career had skyrocketed. He took on the grand post of the assistant clerk at the school’s office. To claim it made his parents immensely proud, would have been an understatement. Ranga’s good luck prevailed until the floods hit some years ago. Unfortunately, his father was amongst the crowd that went missing after the floods. To top it, with most of the school complex now swept away, Ranga found himself out of a job. His mother constantly urged him to go out into the world and look for a one.

Ranga gave this suggestion much thought. “You have passed the Metric exam, Ranga!” Reminded his mother sternly, “People would queue up to give you a job” she assured him. His wife did not fail to contribute her thoughts on the subject, for she thought he could do much better than a regular job, “You look just like Rumit Ji, Ranga! They are bound to cast you in a film with him, you could be his twin brother for all we know…” she mused, lost in her thoughts.

It was thus that Ranga decided to try his luck in Mumbai, the city of dreams. A distant uncle on his maternal side lived here, and so Ranga had packed his bags and left for Mumbai. Arriving here with a small case of clothes, some homemade snacks, and his scanty savings, Ranga was first taken aback by the sheer crowd and then by the hustle & bustle of this vast city. An overwhelmed Ranga had sought refreshments first.

Then with his stomach and spirits adequately full, he set out to explore this city of opportunities. His first ride on a bright red double decker bus to the local film studio filled his heart with much hope. This was followed by a couple of months of such bus rides and walks, to various other studios, the employment exchange, various shops, companies, and even schools – all in search of a job. “Any job would do”, Ranga found himself wishing fervently.

When Ranga discovered there wasn’t much by way of job opportunities in Mumbai, he ventured out to the nearby suburbs. It was here that he came across a group of men playing cards at leisure, lounging underneath the old banyan tree outside ‘ND Studios’. It was on these sacred grounds, that Ranga first spotted Mr. Rumit Pelm. He’d needed the rest of the day to recover.

Recover he did under the banyan tree, as he was invited to play a round of cards with the men, who would later share room & board with him. They owned a few cycle rickshaws, to cart tourists, visitors, crew members and extras on & off set. Ranga happily joined this odd crew. It was hard work and their wages were pitiful, still, thought Ranga, it was better than no work at all.

He managed to occasionally send some money home; he received long poorly written letters in return. News from home cheered him up, he loved to hear how his little girl was getting on. He wanted her to study, but she was too little to go to school yet. Ranga gave much thought to relocating his family here. He was too ashamed to admit to them his current occupation, “I need a big break, before I can bring my family over” Ranga thought desperately, “With the schools here, my daughter is sure to make it to college!” while he was excited at the prospect, he was highly aware that he needed a solid base to move his family here.

Often, Ranga fancied himself a slightly different destiny. His imagination was limitless, and when he wasn’t pulling Rickshaws, Ranga was free to dream, which he did routinely. Every morning at 7 AM sharp, he turned up outside the studio gate, all washed & spruced, clean-shaven, waiting for Mr. Pelm to show up. Ranga would then spot Mr. Pelm’s shiny teal car approaching & wave with all his might, from his spot beneath the tree. The car would swiftly pass through the gates, ushered in reverently by the studio guards. After the thrill of getting to wave at his idol, Ranga would usually sit down by the pavement for a moment, to calm his racing heart.

Ranga would often imagine what he’d say, if his idol were to ever stop the car for him. He would respectfully approach the car; and let his face be seen clearly. Surely – the resemblance would be noticed! Ranga felt certain that Mr. Pelm would ask Ranga to join him for tea at the studios. Ranga’s thoughts now floated to the studio’s famous canteen. Ohhh…what hot delicious marvels he might savour there! There would be spicy onion fritters, warm pastries and of course, Mr. Pelm’s own favourite – crispy potato cakes! Ranga’s mouth watered at the thought of the food.

Ranga inhaled deeply – to calm himself. He was determined to show restraint & poise, when dining with the star. Ranga was sure Mr. Pelm would share a bit of his background, upbringing & family history with him. Ranga would in turn – share his, for he was sure that somewhere, in their combined histories, they would find a clue which established that they were long lost brothers; it might even explain the resemblance. A topic Ranga that never dared broach with his parents. Ranga almost wept with joy, swept away in his imagination.

This morning as Ranga waited with baited breath, he heard the vehicle approaching. He threw out his arm and waved as hard as he could. For a moment, the car stopped, its window whirred down, a hand beckoned to him. Ranga couldn’t believe his luck.

Almost as if in a trance, Ranga stumbled forward as he walked towards the hand. “Do you have a lighter?” Asked Mr. Pelm. His voice was silky smooth. Ranga merely stared at him, wide-eyed. He opened his mouth, but no answer came forth. Ranga slipped his numb fingers into his pocket & produced a box of matches. He mutely handed it over to the great man, who shook his head gently, smiled and handed Ranga a hundred rupees, his cool fingers brushing lightly against Ranga’s coarse hands “Thank you” said the mighty Mr. Pelm, the window whirred back shut.

Ranga stood there, clutching the money for a long time afterwards, too stunned to move. Then, he sat down under the tree, his mind trying hard to process this exchange. He took a few deep breaths, to calm himself. He then carefully folded the money and slipped it into his secret inner pocket. He would keep it forever.

As Ranga walked back home in a daze that day, he wondered whether he would ever get another opportunity to ask Mr. Pelm about their possible fraternity. Ranga was not sure if he could handle actually being related to the great man. It was too much, Ranga decided that day. He considered his life fulfilled; for he had brushed hands with the legendary Mr. Pelm, and what’s more – he had the hundred rupee note, to prove he hadn’t dreamed it up. He was finally at peace.