THE GRANDMOTHER AUDITION

SCENE 1: THE CANDIDATE SHORTLIST

(The living room. Mr. Roy is pacing while checking his tablet. Mrs. Roy is adjusting a ring light for a video. Miss Shreya stands with a clipboard.)

Mr. Roy: Shreya, give me the metrics. We are running behind schedule. The kid wakes up from his nap at 4:00 PM. We need a Grandma on board before he wakes up.

Miss Shreya: Yes, Sir. We have interviewed four candidates so far.
Candidate 1 was too religious.
Candidate 2 smelled like mothballs.
Candidate 3 tried to pinch your cheeks.

Mrs. Roy: (Horrified) Pinch cheeks? Ew. That is a boundary violation. Did she sign the NDA?

Mr. Roy: Focus, please. We need someone who delivers the "Grandmother Experience" without the "Old People Baggage." No advice on parenting, no complaints about back pain, just pure, high-quality storytelling and unconditional love on an hourly basis.

Mrs. Roy: And she must be photogenic. If I post a "Sunday with Nani" reel, she needs to look aesthetic. White hair is a plus, but styled.

Miss Shreya: We have one final candidate. Mrs. Deshpande. Retired Principal. 70 years old. widowed. Living alone in Bandra.

Mr. Roy: Principal? Sounds bossy. But let’s see. Send her in.

(Shreya opens the door. Mrs. Deshpande walks in. She wears a simple cotton saree and carries a worn-out handbag. She looks around the room with amusement.)

Mrs. Deshpande: Good afternoon. Is this the waiting room or the operation theater? It’s very... white.

Mr. Roy: (Fake smile) Mrs. Deshpande. Welcome. I am Mr. Roy. This is Mrs. Roy. Please, sit.

(Mrs. Deshpande sits comfortably. She doesn't look nervous.)

Mrs. Deshpande: So, the agency said you are looking for a "Part-Time Geriatric Caregiver."

Mr. Roy: No, no. We don't use those words. We are looking for a "Grandmother Consultant."

Mrs. Deshpande: A what?

Mrs. Roy: You see, our son, Bunty, is five. We are very busy professionals. We love him, obviously, but we can't provide the... vintage warmth. The pickle-making, the sweater-knitting, the bedtime stories about moral values. We want to outsource that.

Mrs. Deshpande: (Blinking) You want to outsource grandmotherhood?

Mr. Roy: Exactly! It’s a gig-economy role. 4 hours a day, weekends only. You play with him, feed him (organic only), tell him stories. Then you leave. No emotional drama. Competitive salary.

Mrs. Deshpande: (Laughing softly) I see. And what are the KPIs? Key Performance Indicators?

Mr. Roy: (Excited) Glad you asked!

1. Hug efficiency (Must feel warm but not suffocating).

2. Story retention (Bunty must remember the moral).

3. Zero interference with parental authority.

Mrs. Deshpande: Mr. Roy, I ran a school for 40 years. I handled 2,000 children. I think I can handle one Bunty. But I have a question. Why don't you just ask his real grandparents?

(Silence falls. The Roys look uncomfortable.)

Mrs. Roy: My mother lives in London. She’s busy with her yoga retreats.

Mr. Roy: And my parents... well, we have "ideological differences." They think I work too much. I don't need that negativity around Bunty.

Mrs. Deshpande: So, you want a grandmother who is paid to agree with you.

Mr. Roy: We want a professional. Are you interested or not?

Mrs. Deshpande: (Pausing. She looks at her worn-out bag.) My pension is small. The rent is high. And... my own grandson is in America. He doesn't call. (She looks up). Yes. I am interested.

Mr. Roy: Excellent. Let’s move to round two. The Simulation.

(Lights fade.)

SCENE 2: THE MYTH OF THE PERFECT STORY

(Bunty’s Bedroom. It is filled with expensive toys that look untouched. Mr. Roy stands with a stopwatch. Mrs. Deshpande is sitting on a small chair.)

Mr. Roy: Okay. The scenario is: Bunty refuses to eat his broccoli. You have to convince him using "Folklore Wisdom." Go.

(Mrs. Deshpande looks at the empty space where "Bunty" would be.)

Mrs. Deshpande: I am supposed to talk to the air?

Mr. Roy: Pretend I am Bunty. Convince me.

(Mr. Roy sits on the floor, crossing his arms, making a grumpy face. It looks ridiculous.)

Mrs. Deshpande: (Smiling) Okay, Bunty. You don't want the broccoli?

Mr. Roy (as Bunty): No! It looks like a tree! I hate trees!

Mrs. Deshpande: (Leaning in, voice dropping to a whisper) Ah, but this isn't a tree, Bunty. Do you know the story of the Green Giant?

Mr. Roy (as Bunty): No.

Mrs. Deshpande: Long ago, the Green Giant lost his strength because a wizard stole his magic emeralds. These (points to broccoli) are the emeralds. If you eat them, you get the Giant’s strength. But shh... don't tell the wizard.

(Mr. Roy stares at her. He is genuinely captivated for a second.)

Mrs. Deshpande: So, quick! Hide the emeralds in your tummy before the wizard comes!

Mr. Roy: (Breaking character) That... that was good. That was very good. I actually wanted to eat it.

Mrs. Roy: (Entering) Wait! Did you check the nutritional facts of the emeralds? We don't want to promote lying.

Mrs. Deshpande: (Turning to Mrs. Roy) It is imagination, my dear. Not lying. A grandmother’s job is to make the world magical, not logical. You have Google for logic. You need me for magic.

Mrs. Roy: (Softening) Magic. Yes. That’s what’s missing.

Mr. Roy: Okay, you passed the story test. Now, the emotional test. Bunty scrapes his knee. He is crying. What do you do?

Mrs. Deshpande: I hold him.

Mr. Roy: And? Do you apply antiseptic? Do you call us?

Mrs. Deshpande: I hold him. I blow on the wound. And I say, "Oh, the floor is so naughty! Let’s hit the floor!" And then he laughs. Pain is 10% physical and 90% fear. A grandmother takes away the fear.

Mr. Roy: (Quietly) My mother used to do that.

Mrs. Deshpande: Then call her, Mr. Roy.

Mr. Roy: (Snapping back) We are hiring you. Stop trying to fix my family. You start tomorrow. 4 PM sharp. Here is the contract.

(He hands her a tablet. Mrs. Deshpande looks at it.)

Mrs. Deshpande: One condition.

Mr. Roy: We don't negotiate salary.

Mrs. Deshpande: Not salary. I want to bring my own food.

Mrs. Roy: Why? Our kitchen is fully stocked.

Mrs. Deshpande: Because a grandmother doesn't come empty-handed. I will bring laddoos. And you will not check the sugar content.

Mr. Roy: (Sighs) Fine. But if he gets a cavity, it’s on your bonus.

(Lights fade.)

SCENE 3: THE REAL COST

(One month later. The Living Room. Evening. The house looks slightly messier—toys are on the sofa. Mrs. Deshpande is packing her bag to leave. Mrs. Roy enters, looking stressed.)

Mrs. Roy: Mrs. Deshpande! Wait. Bunty is crying. He won't sleep.

Mrs. Deshpande: My shift ended at 8:00 PM, Mrs. Roy. It is 8:15.

Mrs. Roy: I’ll pay you overtime! Double! Just go back in. He keeps asking for "Dadi."

Mrs. Deshpande: (Stopping) He calls me Dadi?

Mrs. Roy: Yes. He loves you. The engagement metrics on my posts have doubled since you joined. Everyone loves "Nani Deshpande."

Mrs. Deshpande: (Sitting down slowly) That’s the problem, isn't it?

Mrs. Roy: What?

Mrs. Deshpande: He loves me. But I am an employee. Tomorrow, if I get sick, or if you fire me, I disappear. What happens to Bunty’s heart then?

Mr. Roy: (Entering, on the phone) Sell the stocks! Now! (Hangs up). What’s the issue? Why is she still here?

Mrs. Deshpande: I am resigning, Mr. Roy.

Mr. Roy: What? Why? We gave you a raise last week!

Mrs. Deshpande: Because today, Bunty drew a picture of his family.

(She pulls a crumpled paper from her bag.)

Mrs. Deshpande: Look. Here is Bunty. Here is me.

Mr. Roy: (Looking) Where are we?

Mrs. Deshpande: You are not in the picture. He said, "Mummy and Papa are in the laptop."

(Silence. Mr. Roy stares at the drawing. Mrs. Roy puts a hand to her mouth.)

Mrs. Deshpande: You hired me to fill a gap. But the gap has become a canyon. You are buying love because it is convenient. But love is inconvenient, Mr. Roy. It requires time. It requires you to be there when he scrapes his knee, not me.

Mrs. Roy: (Crying) But we are doing this for him! For his future!

Mrs. Deshpande: He needs a present. Not a future.

(Mrs. Deshpande stands up.)

Mrs. Deshpande: I cannot be his grandmother anymore. It is too painful. Because I am starting to love him like my own. And I know that one day, you will terminate the contract, and I will be heartbroken again. I can't do it.

Mr. Roy: (Voice breaking) But... he needs you.

Mrs. Deshpande: No. He needs you. And he needs his real grandmother. The one you "ideologically disagree" with. Call her. Swallow your ego. She won't charge you an hourly rate. She will pay you with her life.

(Mrs. Deshpande walks to the door. She stops.)

Mrs. Deshpande: By the way, the laddoos are in the jar. I made extra. For you two. You look like you need sweetness more than the child does.

(She exits. The door clicks shut.)

(Mr. Roy and Mrs. Roy stand in the silent, white room. Mr. Roy looks at the drawing. He looks at the jar of laddoos.)

Mr. Roy: (Whispering) She’s right. We aren't in the picture.

(He walks to the sofa and sits. He opens the jar and takes a bite of the laddoo. He closes his eyes. It tastes like his childhood.)

Mr. Roy: (To Mrs. Roy) Call your mother.

Mrs. Roy: What?

Mr. Roy: Call your mother. And I will call mine.

(Mrs. Roy nods, wiping her tears. Mr. Roy picks up his phone. He doesn't open the stock app. He opens the dialer.)

(FADE TO BLACK)