The Four Boys Club Shaurya Arya-Kanojia

You’ve got to feel a sense of power in knowing things. After all, don’t they say that knowledge is power? In seeing through the fog of lies. In resisting being coaxed into the colourful story they are painting for you. In… well, in knowing the truth.

Because… Shanky knew things. He knew the truth about many things that happened in Bandem’s life; and not just the ones you’re expecting. Bandem had his moments of embarrassment; you know, things you’re ashamed of, things you wish you could go back in time and undo, things thinking about which keeps you up at night. And what complicates things even more here is that maybe Bandem is not even responsible for them; that he has to live with them. Lie about them.

But the thing is, Shanky would not out Bandem. And the fact that you share a decade long friendship is not even close to being the real reason here.

Many a story have been written about what the “greatest tragedy” is; each with their own interpretations. And, rightly so, there is no correct, or one, answer.

And yet, I think we can say all these interpretations circle around one idea: the end of a life.

Now, whether you think of it as death, or whether something more arbitrary, is up to you. The beauty of art, someone said, is that it can’t be defined. Or at least defined exclusively.

To this, Anpag and Bandem both had faced their own shares of, well, a tragic life. Anpag’s tragedy, not to downplay his affliction of course, was more direct. An illness that made him suffer, and eventually led to his sad demise. Bandem’s, on the other hand, was more… well, let’s call it indirect. As he grew up, he found himself becoming… well, becoming someone he never wanted to be.

The universal truth of it – because it is universal – became Bandem’s tragedy. A tragedy that, unlike Anpag’s, remained within him for much longer.

Now, who would you say suffered more?

There’s a line June Gable said (who played the undeniably funny Estelle Leonard in Friends), which, truth be told, goes down really well in many a situation. “Things change. Roll with them.” Of course, she didn’t exactly say it in the same context as in this episode of The Four Boys Club, but it can be perfectly applied here.

Because, well, things do change, don’t they? And with things, so do people. Can we say we are exactly the same of who we were as kids? That the tide of time has not changed us? Or even withered us?

The person we are talking about in this episode is Mompy. As a teenager, he was the guy you’d be envious with. Because he had everything; he was amicable, was great with people, had a lot of friends, and, of course, a cool dad (who was actually called The Cool Dad). But somewhere down the line, he… changed. And, well, he did wither.

Became a hostage of his own insecurities. And no one saw this change more than his now wife, Midhali.

Baz Lurhmann made a reference to friendship in his Sunscreen speech. “Friends come and go, but a precious few you should hold on,” he said. Notwithstanding the context he said it in, but friends do come and go. The tide comes and washes the land away, changing the landscape of how it all once looked.
From being friends long ago, Mompy and Bandem are now… well, people who wouldn’t much care for one another. Not to say that should either of them be drowning the other wouldn’t do whatever they could to save them. There was no argument – or a fight, or a skirmish – that marked the rupture in their friendship. It just… happened. And it grew to a point where, when they returned to the neighbourhood during their respective breaks from work, it developed into awkwardness – you know, trying to avoid a conversation, trying to avoid each other.
Come to think of it, this kind of parting is as natural as… well, as the sun’s trajectory from east to west, isn’t it?

Every artist needs a muse – how many times have we heard this phrase? An inspiration so to speak, something which drives them. Vince Aletti likened a muse to a mirror; a reflection of their desires, anxieties, dreams and needs. Ross Baldwin said how, without a muse, an artist is simply a madman.
Now all that’s fine and dandy, but no one has really touched upon something far more empirical. An inspiration doesn’t necessarily mean the high skies of glory, right? It can also be a path down the wormhole of madness.
Shanky, who as it turns out did have all his ambitions fulfilled, did find his muse. It came after a long and arguably hard fought struggle; times marked by questions of… pardon the aggravation, self existential crisis. But like the parting of the dense, dark, grey clouds that reveal the warmth of the sun, it eventually did. Shanky found his muse in the unlikeliest of places; a place that you’ll note he had not even been aware of. But when he found it, you can be assured he didn’t let it go.

A lot happened in the first season of The Four Boys Club. We were introduced to the four boys themselves – Shanky Vai, Mompy Arda, Bandem Asra, and Anpag Benza – and got a peek into their lives. There were moments that were dramatic (after all, each story needs drama) and – perhaps I’m being a little ambitious – it makes for a good storyline.
So, before the second lot of stories is released soon, here’s an account of all that happened in Season 1.