'Valley Song'

The Kennedy Centre for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC, is an exceptional institution. It is the nation’s memorial to an assassinated president. Presenting more than 3000 performances of music, dance, and theatre every year, it is the busiest cultural hub in America. And this is where I had an unexpected theatrical experience.

The Centre was a short walk from where I lived in the summer of 2012. I loved spending time in its free spaces where I could read books on art, savour its breath-taking décor, and spend hours in the large foyer that was free. I wandered there every evening, hoping to watch one of the free shows that were staged occasionally. That is where I met Chief Usher Lenora Harris. She had watched me engage in this happy pastime every evening.

"Seen any play as yet?" she grinned. I showed her my nearly empty purse and told her I was visiting this country on a small budget. She nodded and left. She was there again the next evening as I was looking at the posters.

"Want to see 'Valley Song' tonight?" she asked casually. My mouth fell open. Athol Fugard’s timeless play which cost a fortune! She grabbed my hand and took me inside. I was dazed as we walked on the plush, red carpet all the way to the stage and then went behind it, where a man was hammering at the wall, standing on a ladder.

"Jim, this is the lady I told you about." She turned to me.

"Jim is our carpenter who manages the stage props."

The carpenter climbed down from his perch and asked me to meet him at the same place later that night.

"You can see the play on the Millenium Stage for free," he smiled.

A stage where three million spectators have watched 42,000 artistes perform in its incredible ambience? Without wondering further how this could be possible, I found myself standing at the foot of Jim’s ladder that night. He climbed down and guided me carefully across a floor littered with glue, paper strips, and wood shavings. We then went through a long, dark corridor, which suddenly opened out to a glittering auditorium.

The plush red carpet and maroon drapes festooned with garlands of gold lace told me this was the Millenium Hall. Jim opened the door a crack and whispered, "Follow me."

We tiptoed a few rows back on the side aisle. There was just one empty seat on a curve where no one could obstruct your view. It was the best seat reserved for the carpenter who could examine every nook and corner of the stage without anyone blocking his view.

Jim pushed me into its deep recesses and whispered, "You can tell your friends back home that you were offered the best seat in the Kennedy Centre to see the best play in the world!"

Thank you, Jim.