Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Painted Faces - I

Pre-Scriptum: This is going to be a long boring and uninteresting walk down memory lane with a few stops on the way. I am missing home too much and this is my way to stay connected to illusions. So humour me :)

Contrary to popular belief, being the only child to my parents made them ignore the word 'pamper' to a large extent. I was lavished with freedom but hey it came with a huge Responsibilty that made me very cautious.

All this changed when i set foot into that room in FD-II (Faculty Division) for my audition. Everything changed from that moment. I was no longer a silent first yearite with no great talent and a string of D's in her grade card. I was an actress. I was part of one of the most professional drama troupes on campus. I was part of a wonderful family. And i was the pampered princess of a passionate drama kingdom from a forgotten desert.

I became PonC.
And this is my story.

Like any good boring story, i shall begin at the very beginning. Some time in early August, right after we were inducted into college, the notice board talked of an audition for the English Drama Club. Brainwashed by my 'acting prowess' of forgotten school days, i decided to give it a hand along with darling room mate Princess Duck. The audition was a hit and I made the diro laugh her head off and just when I thought i hit jackpot, they dropped the bombshell. "You are awesome kiddo but your voice is too soft."

Digression1 : Princess made it to the EDC and did many awesome plays.

Dejected I walked back to the hostel and waited for weekend to dawn to cry to Amma. I managed to escape seniors all the way to the phone booth only to be caught by a wild bunch right outside it. I enacted the role of an angry slum dweller in Chennai fighting for water with a Tam-Bram lady much to the amusement of the group around. I sang "Kahana hi kya" from Bombay in English and soon one thick-eyebrowed girl asked me to come for another audition. This time, with the Tamizh drama troupe.

Audition. I still remember what I wore that day. It was the salwar -kameez I had bought for our Class XI farewell function. It was henna- coloured and it flowed on my extremely thin frame like a rectangular ethnic dress of the Wachati tribe in Africa. I walked in and they asked me to talk in Chennai Tamizh(What's with seniors and their love for the worst dialect of Tamizh?). Ten minutes of laughing later, they asked if I can change my character to a Tam-Bram and do the same dialogues. And after a few more questions on my history, which revealed my 'stage connection', senior Jura(geriatric by troupe standards) said,
"So will you act a scene from your school play for us?"
And the wiseass in me answered, "But how will you understand? Out of the blue and with no prologue?"

Several mild sniggers passed around the room but I did do a scene for them where my only dialogue was , "Kiss me. Kiss me please" :D
Of course, I knew I would make it when I told them my name, "Pon Chidambarakumari and Pon is my initial." :)

That night as I was half asleep in bed, Roops walked in to convey the good news. I was selected. I was no longer a floating cloud with no bearings. I belonged somewhere.
I was a PTMite.


Blogger littlecow said...

college memories are fundoo indeed! i still remember the first time a couple of my seniors (who i had bribed with chocolates during the ragging week) took me with them for a picto competition. from an obscure first yearite, i was suddenly catapulted to fame (or so my feeble head thought in its state of joyous intoxication!). i got to score the players, give the clues and sit in the organizers row and felt like my life had an important purpose afterall, that my 17 years of existence has been vindicated by this singular moment of recognition followed by a whole gamut of unjustified emotions! It all felt/feels good nevertheless! :)

9:33 PM  
Blogger Kumari said...

@LC: It always feels good...esp when you are accepted by seniors whom you thought would never look at you :)

11:33 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home