CONFESSIONS OF AN ACTOR

"Be sure to learn your lines by heart," the director reminded me, "The play is at 2 O'clock tomorrow afternoon." "Yes," I mumbled. I was worried. Here I was, participating in a play in our annual gathering, a challenging role offered to me two days ago, and, like an ass, I had accepted. I had not learnt my lines, and they were expecting me to work a miracle overnight.I was nervous. The other play I took part in bombed at the 'box office.' It was a laughable attempt, as a classmate of mine was told by his friend of the other species. And to think it was a comedy!
Show is on
"What the devil," I thought, "To hell with it all!" I threw caution to the winds. I read the script once, and forgot all about it till the time I put on my 'make-up.
I was to play a murderer, who, in the guise of a foolish telephone repair man, enters households and strangulates the housewives who are all alone. I dressed, picked up my bag in which were screw drivers, pliers, hammer, wires, cutters, and, just in case, the script.
The announcement was made, and the curtain went up. The show was on! As my entry drew nearer, I began to sweat. Was it the heat, or something else? Then, to make things worse, the lights went out a couple of minutes before my entry. My heart began a never-ending 100 metres dash. My knees knocked each other. My mind commanded, "On your marks … set … GO. I found myself on the stage, facing a mob … Oops! An audience.
That was a nice pickle to be in! No lights, no mikes, not learnt my lines, heat, audience, and, worst of all, the prospect of murder. But I held myself together. Said my lines right, by courtesy of the 'prompter.'
Slowly, the drama unfolded. The audience was spellbound. There were only two of us on the stage now.She was sitting on the sofa. I stepped behind her, and whipped out my handkerchief.
"Thanks for coming," she said, and stooped to pick up the keys lying on the table. I whipped the handkerchief round her throat, and squeezed. Her scream died within her throat, and then she lay limp. She was motionless! She was gone!Quickly, I removed the telephone receiver from the cradle, and picked up the bunch of keys. I held them high, and roared with laughter, a la Gabbar Singh.And then, mercifully, curtains!
I heaved a sigh of re… there was a mad scramble to congratulate me for my superb performance. All the while, I had forgotten there was an audience. I had, what they call, 'lived' the role. I had automatically drifted into the character. There was a pink jumble of faces, handshakes, pats, shoves, hugs and words of appreciation as everyone congratulated me. I felt elated.Then, my lecturers did the praises. 'Poltergeist,' 'Dracula,' 'King Kong,' 'Lady Killer,' 'Richard Burton,' 'You-can't-beat-the-man-who-shaves-with-Swish,' 'KGB Agent' – one and all! I was on cloud nine.
Then came the real fun! The dames converged on me! I was surrounded by all the pretty, pretty faces. Wasn't it wonderful? Holding out their delicate hands for me to shake. Everyone vying for my attention. "You were sooooo superb!" said one. "What a performance!" gasped another. "It was marvellous!" cooed a third. In an instant, I was a hero. And then, 'she' came to me, and … ahem! Er, oh … Oh, well, never mind! My altimeter soared to cloud 11!
Crash landing
Now came the prize distribution, and to my delight, I was adjudged the Best Actor! I was thrilled! My hard work (?) had paid rich dividends.For the next few days, I moved about in a daze.Come April, and Examination Time Tables were flashed all around the college. I plummeted down to sea level from cloud 11. I crash-landed amongst books, pens, pencils and papers. I took off my helmet, oxygen mask and all – I had been flying at high altitudes, you know. I set my foot down, burned a lot of midnight oil and became thin.Because the exam is one place where you don't have a prompter!
May God bless me with a first class. AMEN!
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, July 26, 1986)