Slumdog Millionaire: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

become a champion in cricket by eating Corn Flakes for breakfast. How to drive fast cars and win gorgeous girls by using Spice Cologne. ('That's the perfume used by Armaan,'
    exclaims Salim.) How to get a promotion and have shiny white clothes by using Roma soap.
    How to live life like a king by drinking Red & White Whisky. And how to die of lung cancer by smoking cigarettes.
    After the adverts, there is a little pause while the reels are changed. We cough and clear our throats. And then the censor certificate appears on the cinemascope screen. It tells us that the film has been certified U/A, has seventeen reels and a length of 4,639.15 metres. The certificate is signed by one Mrs M. Kane, Chairman of the Censor Board. She is the one who signs all
    censor certificates. Salim has often asked me about this lady. He really envies her job. She gets to see Armaan's pictures before anyone else.
    The opening credits begin to roll. Salim knows everyone in this film. He knows who is the wardrobe man, who is the hair stylist, who is the make-up man. He knows the names of the
    production manager, the finance controller, the sound recordist and all the assistants. He doesn't speak English very well, but he can read names, even the ones in really small print. He has watched this film eight times already and every time he memorizes a new name. But if you were to see the concentration on his face right now, you would think he was watching the First Day First Show with black-market tickets.
    Within two minutes, Armaan Ali makes his grand entrance by jumping down from a blue and
    white helicopter. Salim's eyes light up. I see the same innocent excitement on his face as when he first saw Armaan, a year ago. In person.
    Salim comes running through the door and collapses face-down on the bed.
    I am alarmed. 'Salim! . . . Salim!' I shout. 'What's happened to you? How come you are back so early?' I turn him on his back. He is laughing.
    'The most amazing thing has happened today. This is the happiest day of my life,' he declares.
    'What is it? Have you won a lottery?'
    'No. Something even better than winning a lottery. I have seen Armaan Ali.'
    Bit by breathless bit, the whole story comes out. How Salim caught a glimpse of Armaan Ali while doing his daily round in Ghatkopar. The star was alighting from his Mercedes Benz to enter a five-star hotel. Salim was travelling on a bus to deliver his last tiffin box to a customer.
    The moment he spotted Armaan, he jumped down from the speeding vehicle, narrowly missing
    being run down by a Maruti car, and ran towards the actor, who was passing through the hotel's revolving door. He was stopped by the tall, strapping uniformed guard at the entrance and prevented from entering the hotel. 'Armaan!' Salim called, trying desperately to catch the star's attention. Armaan heard the cry, stopped in his tracks and turned around. His eyes made contact with Salim's. He gave a faint smile, an imperceptible nod of acknowledgement and continued walking into the lobby. Salim forgot all about the tiffin and came racing home to give me the news of his dream having come true. A customer of Gawli Tiffin Carriers went hungry that
    afternoon.
    'Does Armaan look different from the way he appears on screen?' I ask.
    'No. He is even better in real life,' says Salim. 'He is taller and more handsome. My ambition in life is to shake his hand, at least once. I probably won't wash it for a month after that.'
    I reflect on how good it is to have simple, uncomplicated ambitions, like shaking a film star's hand.
    Meanwhile, on screen, that hand is holding a gun and pointing it at a group of three policemen.
    Armaan plays a gangster in this movie. A gangster with a heart. He loots the rich and distributes money to the poor. In between he falls in love with the heroine, Priya Kapoor, an up-and-coming actress, sings six songs and fulfils his beloved mother's wish by taking her on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Vaishno Devi. At least, that's