A stage that slipped away

I craved recognition even as a schoolboy; I still do as a senior citizen.  My desire was not limited to any one field or discipline. It ranged from academics to sports—for that matter, any effort that offered the possibility of a ‘stage’ honour before a galaxy of distinguished guests for my performance.  Towards that end, I left no stone
unturned.

The inadvertent mention of ‘stage’ reminds me of the turning point in my life while in the seventh standard in a co-educational school in Varanasi. Preparations were in full swing for the Annual Day celebrations at the fag end of the academic year before the Christmas holidays. As part of the cultural event, the school management decided to stage a play, a short skit. It was titled What’s that you said!

The play centred around an unsuccessful sportsman.

The script was prepared, and the cast was finalised. And much to my surprise, I was summoned to the principal’s room, where, along with my friends from other classes, a copy of the script was handed over to me. Sister Tara, who was co-coordinating the preparations, told me that I had to read the lines of Godfrey Gleason – one of the characters in the play. I read out my lines, with pauses for semicolons and commas and, of course, with corrections for pronunciation in places.  Some staff members, including my class teacher, Father Joseph, were also present. The exercise over, we dispersed. This ritual continued over the next fortnight, during which time we were made comfortable by the teachers, who themselves enacted some scenes, asking us to observe their facial expressions and relaxed posture while delivering a dialogue.  Despite my lack of experience in acting, I was gradually adapting to my role.

A couple of days before the scheduled Annual Day celebrations, all those who were associated with the programme were asked to assemble at the auditorium near the school for a rehearsal. I took my neighbour’s bicycle and pedalled my way to the school and from there to the auditorium, feeling very uncomfortable but excited nevertheless, as my teachers were happy with our overall performance.

The next day, while returning from school in an overcrowded school bus, the door near the entrance suddenly opened while negotiating a sharp bend, and I, who was standing near the door, was thrown out.  What happened thereafter I did not know. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the hospital bed with bandages on my face and hands.

My teachers visited me each day at the hospital, and through them I later learnt that the play to be staged had been scrapped from the itinerary for the Annual Day celebrations, bringing to an end my probable break as an actor on stage.