bausch.corazon
Sam Bauch
“Call at Corazon” Story Treatment
September, 2009
We begin in Jaipur, India, the Pink City, in an inner city market in the late afternoon. We see our two American tourists, a newlywed couple in their late twenties, walking through the array of vendors selling their wares at tables, stopping briefly every so often. The man wears a traditional kurta that falls just above his knees, blue jeans, sandals, and a 108 bead Japa mala around his neck, whereas his companion is dressed noticeably more western, with large, expensive sunglasses and a sun dress. We hear the distinct sound of a pungi over the sounds of the bustling market and adjacent road, and it continues as we see the couple stop at a snake charmer, the origin of the music.
The cobra is vertically erect out of its basket, slightly swaying as the charmer plays his tune. The man is amazed by the snake charmer’s ability, his eyes fixed on the compliant snake. “You know that’s one of the most venomous snakes in the world?” he quietly asks his wife, while still transfixed on the scene before him, not bothering to glance at his wife as he speaks to her. “Well then what are we doing still standing here? Let’s go,” she responds impatiently. “I’d like to get a nap in at the hotel before dinner.” “You don’t find this incredible? I mean, my God, that snake could kill that man, and he’s just sitting there playing it music. How does one even get in to that profession? We’ve got to hang around and ask him some questions.” “‘Surely the serpent will bite without enchantment; and a babbler is no better,’ Ecclesiastes 10: 11,” she nonchalantly quotes the Bible passage. “Please don’t start. You know how I feel about the Bible,” he quips, dismissing her. “I’ll see you back at the hotel. We have dinner reservations at seven, don’t be late,” she commands him. The wife turns and leaves, and we stay with the husband and the snake charmer, who soon ends his performance, with the snake recoiling back into its basket.
Once the small crowd has dissipated, the man approaches the snake charmer, and begins to ask him some questions about the profession, no, rather the art, he decides. The snake charmer tells the young man about his family history, that he learned the practice from his father, and his father from his grandfather before him. Sensing the man’s interest, the snake charmer reveals that there is another not far from here who sells snakes, pungis, and gives lessons to curious tourists. The American scribbles directions to the teacher’s home, and assured that he would be there, takes off to find him.
The American tourist finds the home of the snake-charming teacher with little difficulty, and is heartily welcomed inside. The charmer offers the American tea, which he denies, telling his instructor that he cannot stay long because he must meet his wife. He admits that his wife knows nothing of his newly hatched plan to learn to be a snake charmer, and is warned that a tranquil environment is of the utmost importance when training a snake. The teacher begins a long a drawn out lesson, replete with warnings and notes of caution to the young American, who becomes frustrated with his teacher’s lecturing style and philosophical waxing, routinely checking his watch. He eventually interrupts the teacher, saying that he really must go and meet his wife, and he would now like to pay the teacher for his services and leave with his snake and pungi. The Indian teacher reluctantly complies, and we see the American exit the home, snake basket and pungi in tow.
We next see our American husband arrive at the restaurant table where his wife has been waiting for him. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek, which does little to lift her feelings of annoyance. A waiter stops by, asking if she would like another whiskey sour, which she would, eliciting a look of disapproval from her husband. “Didn’t I tell you not to be late?” she quips, and he apologizes, “…but you won’t believe what I did after you left,” jumping into his story of his last few hours, making an excuse yet simultaneously expecting her forgiveness as he feels she should share in his excitement.
Our newlyweds arrive back in their hotel room, and he asks if she would like to see the snake. Not now, not ever, she replies, indicating she truly wishes he hadn’t bought it, and that he should get rid of it, or kill it, as soon as possible. “I’m sure you’d love to kill it, the evil serpent of a beast,” he mutters as he turns off the light.
In the morning, our American tourists are boarding a train they will take to Delhi. They find their compartment, unload their things, and make their way to a dining car for breakfast. He talks of the wonderful temples in Delhi, sharing his excitement of seeing the Bahá'í Lotus Temple especially. She is uninterested in the religious tourism of India, and instead is just happy to be returning to city with truly modern amenities, including international brand shopping at lower prices than the US, and some of the best non-Indian restaurants India has to offer. “Why are you even here,” he impugns, “if not to discover India’s rich religious and cultural history?” “I am here because you dragged me here with your Eastern religion obsession!” she angrily replies. “And I put it up with it, despite my religion and my parents, and yet it makes no difference to you!” she finishes, storming off to another car as the train begins to depart.
After finishing his breakfast, the husband returns to their compartment, finding his wife sitting reading an American weekly gossip magazine, for her a welcome amenity of the high-speed luxury tourist train they are traveling on. He locates his snake basket and picks it up, noticing right away its weightlessness. He opens it, and finds no snake. He accuses his wife of disposing of it, which she denies, and tells him she will not be spending any time in this compartment if that snake is on the loose, and leaves immediately.
They arrive in Delhi six hours later in the early afternoon, leaving their luggage on the train as the train departs for Agra at eleven for an overnight trip to Agra. He finds her in the train station with two young American men tourists from the same train with whom she has developed a rapport having spent the trip from Jaipur in their compartment drinking. When asked, the husband tells his wife that he did not find the snake. She responds to this news with mixed emotions: overjoyed he no longer has the snake in his possession, yet reminding him she refuses to stay in the compartment until it is found. She tells him that she will be going to Select City Walk, the best high end retail center in New Delhi with her new friends, and that he should enjoy the temples on his own. He is pleased that he will not be bogged down by her presence on his tours, but can’t hide his suspicion that these two strapping young men will remain just friends.
We next see our American couple as they reconvene at the train station shortly before 11. She is drunk and carrying shopping bags with her new friends in tow, he has a tilaka on his forehead, indicative of his praying in temples throughout the day and into the night. She sloppily remarks that she didn’t even introduce the men earlier, and introduces him to her friends, and her friends to him, remarking that they are graduate students from Notre Dame. They insist that he join them for drinks in their compartment, which he reluctantly agrees to do.
After one drink and some light conversation, including banter from the wife and the students about his tilaka and obsession with both Buddhism and Hinduism, the husband returns to his compartment alone. He picks up his pungi begins to play, surprisingly well considering he has just begun. He then sees the snake slither out from under some luggage and over into its basket, which he promptly closes. Satisfied with himself, he lays down and turns off his light for sleep, not bothering to return to the compartment his wife is in to let her know all is safe for her return.
In the morning, the husband gathers all of his belongings shortly before the train arrives in Agra and moves to the end of a car so he may quickly exit the train. On the way, he passes by the Notre Dame boys’ compartment and cracks open the door. He sees his wife in bed with one of them, not entirely clothed, and he is not entirely surprised. For the first time, the husband leaves our point of view and we are left instead with the wife. She awakes, upset that she spent the whole night there, and hurriedly dresses herself, straightens her hair, and leaves the compartment towards the one she was supposed to share with her husband. She finds the compartment empty just as the train is pulling into the station, and she leaves towards a train exit. She is blocked by the sudden influx of people emerging form their compartments, intensifying the environment’s pace. Once she is able to push through the crowd she stands atop the steps off the train and yells for her husband, peering out into the bustling train station looking for him. The last scene is of the husband standing alone in front of the majestic Taj Mahal with a slight smile and look of awe on his face.