Masaan's Devi Will Live on Long After Richa is Gone

A film is such a strange thing. Someone thinks it, someone writes it, someone lives it, it's made to be shown and one fine day, it's shot like a bullet from a pistol. Boom! It's out there, forever. Remembered till it fades from memory to be rediscovered somehow again.

A film is a strange thing, and a beautiful film, I guess, is a joy forever.

I first met Neeraj (Ghaywan, director of Masaan) on the sets of Gangs of Wasseypur. He was a reliable and conscientious assistant, never seen without his trademark backpack. I was struck by his compassion, clarity of purpose and childlike simplicity.

I first met Varun (Grover, co-writer of Masaan) when I was leaving Sneha Khanwalkar's house. He presumed I was like Dolly, the character I played in Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! . Basically, I think he made fun of me, which is okay.

I first met Vicky (Kaushal, Masaan co-star) on Wasseypur as well. He was a capable assistant who went from being a novice to a guy running the set within two months. I asked him if he wanted to direct. But he said he wanted to act, without batting an eyelid.

And then we met on Masaan, after roughly three years. In some ways, we lived separate lives like the characters in Masaan, only to meet in the end for an optimistic beginning.

Masaan was a meeting of many firsts. It hit the theatres over a week ago. I have never experienced the kind of silent pain I felt on the pre-release, Thursday night. It wasn't anxiety or nervousness. It was a strange yearning. Now I know why actors can go completely mental.

Unbeknownst to me, my character Devi Pathak lived on in my body, like a tenant afraid of confronting the landlord for fear that they may have to cough up rent.

It was the pain of losing an imaginary friend.

"Set her free, ud jayega" said Varun. And she's gone, like a lotus floating away on water.

But after all it's a life lived - a house shared with your father, a backpack slung over the right shoulder, a pair of floaters, ill-fitting synthetic clothes, a tiny silver nose ring... And then for all this to add up to a Friday full of calculations of screens and show timings. It's the day when feelings turn into star ratings and numbers. I get it, I get it all. But it's our labour of love and how can love be quantified?

Masaan has given me a lifetime of memories. As I write this, I can't help but get choked up. Images flash before me - of desolate, dusty Ganga ghats, of steel tiffin boxes wrapped in plastic bags, of small town dreams, a floral plastic tablecloth. And then of crazy, drunken parties in France, of carrying heels in your hands because your feet ache from dancing, of a standing ovation that made adults sob like babies, of group huddles, of walking the red carpet at Cannes while hearing your name announced alongside legends like Marion Cotillard, of a hug from Naseer saab, of people's glimmering eyes as they search for words, of silence after the end credits, of my parents' beaming faces as they saw a hobby turn into a career, of red balloons and a small gift box wrapped in purple paper.

Masaan is immortalised by the people that were in it - behind and in front of the camera. And now by you, the audience that saw it and became a part of that world. It shall now forever inhabit our collective imagination, in tiny, undetectable ways.

Devi will always be alive, long after Richa is gone. Tricky thing to come to terms with.

Richa Chadha has been acting since 2008's Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! and is the star of films such as the acclaimed two-part Gangs of Wasseypur. Her latest film Masaan won two prizes at Cannes.

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