Return Ticket

Bihar’s unlikely hero is coming home for a short visit before flying off to Milan for a stint with Versace.

The designer is the last of the passenger lot, lugging an inordinately large number of suitcases. There are hugs, proud pats and demands for treats—then the rented Indica carries us through deserted streets to his home.

Shahid and Nasimuddin follow behind in a beat-up Maruti 800 that is loaded with Kalim’s stylish luggage. ‘‘I had to pay for more than 40 kilos, but what could I do? I had to get all my clothes along,’’ says Kalim. The clothes he’s talking about make up his personal wardrobe.

A bunch of his friends are waiting outside the lane that leads to his building and they want all the dope, including ‘‘Kareena Kapoor kaisi thi?’’

Home is a second-floor flat in an unremarkable, muddy-eggshell building called Indralok in Ashok Rajpath, one of the city’s most congested areas. Kalim’s flat has all the trappings of the upwardly mobile: A fancy music system, bright red-and-black velvet sofas with lace covers and a few token landscapes hanging on the walls.

Yasmin, Kalim’s mother, is waiting with a plate of rasgullas and pantuas, while sisters Ruhi, 20, and Ghazala, 22, embrace him. ‘‘Chhote bhaijaan, you have to meet our friends, they are very excited that you were on TV.’’

‘‘I’ll make fish tomorrow. Shahzad loves eating fried fish, he polishes them off even before it reaches the table,” says Yasmin.

Once his sisters have finished pestering Kalim for details about the celebs at LIFW, Kalim wishes his father Kalimuddin Ahmad, an ultrasound technician in Jamui, a one-horse town two hours away, was home.

‘‘My father is very busy and visiting in the middle of the week is practically impossible for him,’’ says Kalim. ‘‘We will call him up tomorrow,’’ says Yasmin, as the family decide to call it a day.

The next morning, I’m greeted by an excited Kalim who’s just back from the cyber cafe. ‘‘Guess what? I got a mail from Wendell Rodricks; he sent me a questionnaire on behalf of a newspaper in Goa. There were some other queries for interviews too.’’

The family gather around the dining table and his sisters remind him of the lehenga he’s supposed to design for them. ‘‘Chalo, at least your Abba is a relieved man today, Shally. He used to be so worried because you wanted to become a darzi,’’ says Yasmin.

‘‘Bhaijaan wore a skirt for the Lakme show and Papa was so alarmed, he kept asking ‘when will he change into normal clothes?’,’’ says Ruhi, who’d accompanied her father on the sets of the final episode of Lakme’s reality show.

Kalim grew up in a little town called Lakhisarai, 125 km from Patna, and moved to the capital after he finished his schooling.

‘‘He was an introvert and hardly had any friends,” says Yasmin. “All he would do is come home, sit in a corner and sketch Phantom and Tarzan from comic books. Kabhi kabhi to samajh main nahin aata tha kya kar raha hai.’’

When Ahmad, who wanted at least one of his four children to pursue medicine, heard about Kalim’s plans to study at the NIFT in Hyderabad, he was aghast.

‘‘My husband told Shahzad that he would not offer a bribe or give capitation for his admission. ‘Prove you are fit to be a part of this profession and I shall support you all the way’, he told him,’’ says Yasmin.

Kalim joined a hole-in-the-wall fashion institute in Patna to grab the basics of fashion before appearing for the NIFT exam. ‘‘Can you imagine anyone learning at a fashion institute in Patna? But I was desperate to get into NIFT,’’ says Kalim, whose friends are dropping by.

‘‘I always knew Shally was destined for big things,’’ Abhishek Sinha tells me. Sinha, who’s wearing a grey shirt designed by Kalim, studied with him at Raja Ram Mohan College. ‘‘Even though Shahzad came from Lakhisarai, he was far more stylish than any of us. I remember the first time we met, his bell-bottoms were really huge, and he had hair till his shoulders.’’

Kalim says he’s a small town boy with simple interests. ‘‘My first exposure to a party was at my fresher’s do at NIFT, where I was so excited that I danced non-stop for seven hours,’’ says Kalim, heading out with his friends to their favourite Patna haunts—Gai ghat by the Ganga, Play Zone, a video game parlour, and their favourite restaurant Kaveri at the mallish Maurya Lok.

It’s evening when Kalim comes back and his proud father envelopes him in a bear hug.

‘‘The power situation is becoming very alarming,’’ says Ahmad. ‘‘There would invariably be a power cut whenever his show (Lakme Fashion House) came on television, and I would hurry over to a neighbour’s place to watch it.’’

Yasmin gets busy serving us Rooh Afza, biscuits and chivra. ‘‘Shally has made me proud, I have no more worries as far as he’s concerned,’’ says Ahmad.

“My only advice would be that he shouldn’t let all this attention go to his head.’’