All India Bakchod, First Draft

AIB First Draft Writing Test

Name: Rudrajyoti Nath Ray

Email ID: rudrajyoti.ray@gmail.com

City: New Delhi

Date of Birth:05.02.1986

We are giving you five characters. A sweet old lady. A corrupt cop. A brave little girl. A good hearted dwarf. A romantic soldier. Imagine a feature film with any three as your principal characters. Write an outline of the film’s plot, making sure to communicate its beginning, middle and end. (300 words)

Stories My Grandmother Taught Me- I

Calcutta. A Sweet Old Lady passionately watches war movies. She has a doting Bank-Clerk Husband. The couple have their Daughter and Grandson visiting from America, one Christmas holiday. The Grandson, all of 12, takes kindly to Christmas Coloured Calcutta and his grandmother. He asks her to help him for an essay he must submit to School. It must have a biographical tone…

A Soldier in a war ravaged nation, takes refuge in the house of a civilian. The civilian has a wife and a six year old daughter. It is revealed, the Solider had a poet for a father. The father was slain. In the course of a week, as the Soldier recuperates in secrecy, he forges a bond with the little girl. He shares with her his taste in music & literature. It enthrals her. Armed militants attack the house, one afternoon, just as the Soldier prepares to leave. The Brave Little Girl gives away nothing. The Soldier narrowly escapes, not knowing whether the family would live. He leaves his special friend a diary of poems he had once written, ‘when all was not bad’. He hides it under the floorboard.

The Grandson understands little of the essay and raises several questions. He e-mails an inspired version to the School. The Daughter gifts her parents a Blu-Ray Disc of The Full Metal Jacket, amongst other things, as she and her son return to America.

The Grandson’s English Teacher applauds the essay. The Sweet Old Lady, listening to her Grandson on the telephone, is moved. As the Bank-Clerk Husband calls out to his wife and prepares to watch The Full Metal Jacket – the Sweet Old Lady stands in front of her Dressing Table, with a old brown diary in her hand.

Write a scene (in not more than 500 words) based on the following outline: Wife is at home. Husband enters. They have not been talking for some days. One of them tries to cajole the other. The other withdraws. The first one goes back to doing what he/ she was doing. The other comes to the first one and kills him/her. Please note that the scene cannot have any dialogue. So you can only write the scene-description.

7:30 PM, New Delhi

A man, wearing a full sleeved white shirt and trousers, stands outside an ornate door that reads “Chatterjees”.

He is tense, sweating. His left hand is in his trouser, left pocket.

He pauses to hear sounds that he may discern. He turns the key with apprehension.

It clicks open. Relief! He enters and shuts the door behind him in silence. There is shot of pain in his left arm. He forgets the key outside.

A long and narrow passageway leads to a living room. The living room has a bulb on. The man clicks his tongue.

He walks to the living room, switches off and switches on the bulb twice. A sofa is opposite to the switchboard. There is a kitchen next to the sofa. A brown door next to the kitchen.

He slowly withdraws his left hand from his trouser pocket. It is prosthetic. It holds a matchbox. He places it on the small table below the switchboard. He obsesses for perfect positioning. It is an odd brand.

He sits on the sofa. A woman, her hair dripping wet, silently peeks out of the brown door. He nearly jumps out. He avoids eye contact.  She looks at him as he starts rolling up his left arm sleeve.

The woman comes out from behind the door. She is wrapped in a towel. She sits on her haunches and helps him roll up his sleeves. Her demeanour is tender. He protests the help, vehemently.

He almost kicks her aside, unsettling her towel. He strides into the kitchen; opens the fridge.He takes out a beer and drinks it with gusto.

She stands up, adjusts her towel and and gently pursues him. He finishes his pint, and lets out an intentionally extravagant burp. She tries to hold him, as he comes out of the kitchen.

The man, with all the nonchalance he can muster, withdraws and walks to the switchboard. The woman, exasperated, returns to the room behind the brown door. He picks up the matchbox and puts it in his trouser, right pocket.

He looks around the living room for something. A remote control lies on the sofa, unfound.

He walks into the room behind the brown door. He finds her, still wrapped in towel, sitting on a bed with a cigarette pursed between her lips, emptying the contents of her LV handbag.

He stands transfixed at her sight. An expression of disbelief.  She feels conscious.

He takes out the matchbox from his right pocket and throws it to her. She catches it with both hands. She turns it in her hand, as if it were peculiar. The match heads are green. And there are only five of them.

She lights one. The man stands there, not moving and now looking curious too. Seconds later, the woman collapses on the bed and dies.

Barely does the man have a moment of joy, when he hears the front door click open.

Re-write the same scene between the husband and the wife with dialogues. The dialogues can be in Hindi or in English. (Max 1000 words.)

7:30 PM, New Delhi

A man, wearing a full sleeved white shirt and trousers, stands outside an ornate door that reads “Chatterjees”.

He is tense, sweating. His left hand is in his trouser, left pocket.

He pauses to hear sounds that he may discern. He turns the key with apprehension.

It clicks open. Relief! He enters and shuts the door behind him in silence. There is shot of pain in his left arm. He forgets the key outside.

A long and narrow passageway leads to a living room. The living room has a bulb on. The man clicks his tongue.

He walks to the living room, switches off and switches on the bulb twice. A sofa is opposite to the switchboard. There is a kitchen next to the sofa. A brown door next to the kitchen.

He slowly withdraws his left hand from his trouser pocket. It is prosthetic. It holds a matchbox. He places it on the small table below the switchboard. He obsesses for perfect positioning. It is an odd brand.

He sits on the sofa. A woman, her hair dripping wet, silently peeks out of the brown door. He nearly jumps out. She holds that moment.

[“I am showering.”]

He avoids eye contact.  She looks at him as he starts rolling up his left arm sleeve.

The woman comes out from behind the door. She is wrapped in a towel.

[“You are back early!” she says with a hint of disappointment.]

She sits on her haunches in front of the sofa. He notices her motion. She helps him roll up his sleeves. Her demeanour is tender.

[“You haven’t asked me to cook in a year! What is that about?”]

He protests the help, vehemently.

[“Stop it!”]

He almost kicks her aside, unsettling her towel.

He rolls back whatever she rolled up. He gets up and turns to his side.

[“Why are you exposing your breasts to me, now!!” ]

He strides into the kitchen; opens the fridge. He takes out a beer and drinks it with gusto. He holds it with his prosthetic hand. He notices quite a few plastic bags on the kitchen-top.

She stands up, adjusts her towel and and gently pursues him. She can see him drinking the beer.

[“Look around! I have it all ready.”]

He finishes his pint, and lets out an intentionally extravagant burp – directing it at her. She tries to hold him, as he comes out of the kitchen.

[“I am sorry. Don’t get angry about your sleeve!”]

The man, with all the nonchalance he can muster, withdraws and walks to the switchboard.

[“I thought you would be coming later. I had a surprise for you too.”]

He picks up the matchbox and puts it in his trouser, right pocket. She behind him.

[“Get ready! All of this will take take time.”]

He feigns excitement. The woman, returns to the room behind the brown door.

He looks around the living room for something. A remote control lies on the sofa, unfound.

He walks into the room behind the brown door. He finds her, still wrapped in towel, sitting on a bed with a cigarette pursed between her lips, emptying the contents of her LV handbag.

[“Do you have a light?”]

He stands transfixed at her sight. An expression of disbelief.  She feels conscious. She adjusts her towel. He looks and feels lucky.

Her voice now softer.

[“Do you have a light?]

[“I do! I do!”]

He takes out the matchbox from his right pocket and throws it to her. She catches it with both hands. She turns it in her hand, as if it were peculiar. The match heads are green. And there are only five of them.

She lights one. The man stands there, not moving and now looking curious too. Seconds later, the woman collapses on the bed and dies.

Barely does the man have a moment of joy, when he hears the front door click open.

 [“Shit.”]

AIB

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