One slap is romantic. Two would
call for retaliation... Lend me a
She yanks free, begins to chant her mantra as he grabshis knapsack and valise and goes out the door. Now,
she's silent and, in the simplest sense, deeply hurt.
She can't help herself; she cares. We STAY WITH her
a moment as we -DISSOLVE
EXT. COUNTRY AIRPORT (ASSAM) - WINDING ROAD - DAY
Cool, lush hills. A little pack of single-engine two-
and four-seaters. Max, in shorts and University ofMiami T-shirt, hot, sweaty, appears around a bend in theapproach road.
INT. AIRPORT - WAITING ROOM
A small service desk. A CLERK, who doubles as Ground
Control on the microphone, passing on the prevailing windand the active runway. We hear the STATIC-BACKED VOICE
of a PILOT, giving his call numbers, then announcinghe's clear for immediate takeoff on the active runway.
The Clerk CLICKS off and finds Max.
How you doin'?
The Clerk gives Max a warm smile.
I've always wanted to walk into alittle airport just about likethis one and ask the guy at thecounter the following question.
The Clerk nods; he's at Max's ervice.
When's the next flight to anywhere?
To Bombay. Tomorrow, at one
o'clock in the afternoon.
A beat --- the Clerk with his smile, Max with his, one
simply warm, the other giving off simmering heat.
EXT. AIRPORT - LOW ANGLE - DAY
Max sits on the ground, up against the building, playinga jazz line quietly and rather well on his trumpet. A
pair of well-shod feet ENTER the FRAME. Max looks up.
The rubicund face of VEEJAY CHATTERGEE, 50, and more
British than Churchill. Behind him, his cherubic wife,
RAVI... and making her way toward the enclave of smallplanes, their daughter, MANUBAI, 26.