Lion Page #21

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He’s wide, wide awake. The ceiling fan turning. No way he’s

getting twelve hours’ sleep.

SAROO:

All right.

He leaps up.

EXT. STREET, KHANDWA - MINUTES LATER (DAY)

Saroo walks along the busy street. Hard to read his face.

Past the busy station. And suddenly now in front of him: the

UNDERPASS. He strides ahead. His legs carrying him forward

now.

EXT. ROAD HOME TO GANESH TALAI - TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER

Saroo strides along the road. Purposeful.

EXT. STREETS OF GANESH TALAI - MINUTES LATER (DAY)

Saroo knows exactly where he’s going. Automatic pilot through

those never-forgotten streets. Turning left. Turning right.

Now he RUNS - as he did through these streets as a child.

EXT. ALLEYWAY TO SAROO’S CHILDHOOD HOME - MINUTES LATER

Saroo turns into a narrow alley. Heart positively pounding.

He rounds the next bend and

103

-stops dead.

From BEHIND, his view down the ALLEY, past that house with

those (now faded) lurid aqua walls, past the overflowing

bougainvillea:
we recognise that long-ago childhood home.

REVERSE of this:
looking at Saroo. Only it’s 5-YEAR-OLD-SAROO

who’s standing there now. Still as a statue. Awed.

Little Saroo starts moving forwards, towards home. We track

backwards with him. He’s not scared, just calm, amazed. He’s

been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.

He arrives at the door HARD

CUT to side angle: now it’s ADULT Saroo, peering in

through the rotted slats of the door And

... it’s abandoned in there.

His POV:
in there, in the gloom, there’s NOTHING. That dirt-

floored shack, the rubble of a former life.

He steps back. So that’s it. Sh*t. Stands there, at a loss.

VOICE (O.S.)

(in Hindi)

Can I help you?

Saroo turns. It’s a WOMAN, 21, with a BABY in her arms.

SAROO:

Hi! Um - I used to live here.

(off her blank look)

You don’t speak - ?

(pointing at the shack)

I used to live here.

He unfolds a sheet of paper.

ON THE SHEET:
it’s an enlarged photocopy of that photo taken

at the police station when he was five.

SAROO (CONT’D)

That’s me. I used to live here.

The woman nods politely. But can’t understand a word he says.

A middle-aged MAN pokes his head out from a doorway.

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

Hello?

SAROO:

Hello. You speak English?

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

Yes. A little.

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SAROO:

Have you lived here long?

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

Some time.

SAROO:

(pointing at photo)

I’m Saroo. This is me.

(pointing at empty house)

I’m looking for, um. Kamla, Guddu,

Kallu, Shekila.

The man looks from Saroo to the house. To Saroo.

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

Here? You lived here?

SAROO:

Here. Yes.

The man takes a long look at Saroo. Squinting.

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

Wait here.

And he simply turns, and walks away.

Saroo:
every nerve ending is alive. We CIRCLE him. Everything

else a background BLUR - chatter in Hindi, PEOPLE popping out

of doorways.

And Saroo staring down the alley to where that man just

disappeared around a corner. Where has he gone?

Saroo starts walking, as in a dream, toward the corner.

The people trailing him. But we’re CLOSE with Saroo.

Momentarily, the man reappears around the corner.

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN (CONT’D)

Come.

SAROO:

Come where?

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

(he’s already moving)

Come.

They walk. Saroo in his trance.

Rounding the corner - Saroo, the man, the curious HANGERS-ON.

And fifty metres ahead, there are THREE WOMEN standing there -

stunned, uncertain. Two of them flanking the ONE IN THE

MIDDLE, lightly holding her by the elbows.

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Behind them, their own entourage of curious HANGERS-ON.

On Saroo:
brain about to explode. This can’t be real. Can it?

As Saroo and entourage move towards the three women, the

three women and entourage begin to move towards him.

PUSHING IN towards the women: to that one, CENTRE OF FRAME.

Kamla. A quarter of a century older. Still as beautiful.

REVERSE - PUSHING IN towards Saroo, as he walks towards us.

On Kamla:
with immense confusion and reservation, staring up

at this giant man, this total stranger.

- and as she gets closer, looking into his eyes -

SAROO:

Ammi -

-and she knows it’s him.

KAMLA:

Sheru!

They embrace each other, tightly.

SAROO:

(close, soft)

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

They hold the embrace.

Then Kamla starts running her hands over Saroo’s face.

SAROO (CONT’D)

It’s me -

(showing her the photo)

Look -

The instant Kamla looks at the photo, it ALL comes back, and

she weeps. Hugging Saroo, wailing, touching his face.

The commotion growing. PEOPLE appearing. Explanations flying

JUMP CUT:

The little crowd has grown further. Everyone talking at once.

Kamla can’t stop hugging Saroo, touching him, squeezing him.

A NEIGHBOR:

Are you sure it’s him?

KAMLA:

(stabbing the photo)

It’s him. I know it’s him. My son

has come back.

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She reaches up, parts the hair on his forehead. Sure enough,

the scar.

SAROO:

The watermelons!

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

(in Hindi)

Watermelons.

KAMLA:

The watermelons!

SAROO:

(in Hindi, imitating)

Tarabuja! [Watermelon]

(beat)

And Guddu? Where is Guddu?

KAMLA:

(heartbroken)

Guddu. Guddu.

Saroo, not wanting to believe what he thinks she’s saying.

ENGLISH-SPEAKING MAN

Guddu is no more.

(beat; clarifies)

He is with God.

Amidst all this surreal joy, a knife in the heart. Saroo

looks at the man - numb and uncomprehending.

He looks to Kamla: is it true? Surely it’s not true.

In her eyes:
it’s true. It’s true. Such sorrow.

They embrace. She weeps. AUDIO muffles - they’re in some

private space that sound can’t penetrate. They gaze into each

other’s eyes. Pain, love, joy -

Then:
a COMMOTION. The crowd parts for ADULT SHEKILA (27).

KAMLA:

(she’s nearly hysterical)

Shekila! It’s him!

(to Saroo)

This is Shekila! This is your

sister!

Saroo, amazed.

SAROO:

Shekila?

Kamla nods yes; a howl of joy from Saroo -

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SAROO (CONT’D)

Shekila!

He pulls her into the embrace.

The onlookers crowding and touching him, as if he’s not real.

Saroo and his mother and sister, locked in the embrace.

EXT. ROAD TO KHANDWA STATION - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)

That last night together, twenty-five years ago: little

Saroo, King of the World, perched on the handlebars as Guddu

pedals for all he’s worth through the streets of Khandwa.

They’re gliding. Banking. Soaring. The world is rushing by.

A YOUNG MAN:

Go, Guddu!

It’s as if they’re being cheered through the very streets.

SMALL FADE.

INT. HOTEL ROOM, KHANDWA - LATE AT NIGHT

Saroo - a profoundly changed man - at the window, looking out

over Khandwa and the train station.

The street stalls, the lights, the endless traffic.

SUE’S PHONE MESSAGE (V.O.)

Hello. You’ve reached Sue Brierley.

I can’t get to the phone right now,

please leave a message.

SAROO (V.O.)

Hi Mum. I know you’ll be sound

asleep. (MORE ...)

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