A director of a play pens downs his feelings just before the performance at a grand stage.
There was prolonged applause for the play that just ended. The audience applauded generously, and the who’s who of theatre, that were seated in the front rows nodded in appreciation. I didn’t join in.How could I? The jokes were done and dusted, not a single quip genuinely sarcastic or cleverly written. I could watch Comedy Circus for all the good it’d do, I thought to myself. Ours should be the better one. My teammates were better sports, I saw them applauding and whispering to each other, probably discussing some take home tips from the performance. I was too occupied elsewhere to pay them any heed.
I observed the stage while the team was clustered at its centre. I mentally placed the lights, fog machines and props in their respective places. There wasn’t enough set up time; we had to be quick about it, the event had an iron-clad time limit. I tracked the movements of the characters in my head, where they would enter from, where they would go, what prop they would pick up and where they would exit. All the actors were well aware of all that by now, or so I could hope.
The last month had been a daze. Since receiving that first phone call with confirmation that we were to perform at one of these prominent stages, I had spent every waking moment fine tuning the play for a flawless performance. The judges at the play competition had seen promise in our script. ‘A pat on the scriptwriter’s back,’ they had said, to my utter surprise. However, they had also noticed a lack of enthusiasm in the execution, which I swore to amend, if we should win the chance, that is. And we did. We were one of the two teams that had won themselves an opportunity to stage their play at a reputed theatre in the city. It was a dream come true, to say the least. Even that my script be read out before such an august gathering would have been an honour.
The script needed almost no modifications, to my relief. I asked the team members to put in as many hours as their schedules would permit, and they obliged, with admirable fervour. We toiled with the play, saying every dialogue in the best way it could be said. We laboured on the trivial details like the timely flickering of lights and the little sounds to be played; and perfectly timed sighs and sobs between the lines. The actors were immensely talented and dedicated. I couldn’t have asked for a better team.
I snapped back to the scene, as the team exited through the doorway I stood in. ‘Good job!’ I mumbled to one of them. They smiled in reply. The compere announced that we were to be the next team to perform. Even though I knew that, the announcement accelerated my heartbeat threefold and I felt a knot develop in my stomach. I grew more confident at one instant and more doubtful at the next.
Can we pull this off? Of course, like we nailed the competition! But that was the easy part; I want to impress every one of the audience here. We have worked hard this time; we have put in countless hours! And yet, our fate rests on the next half an hour. We have done this before. But what if something should go terribly wrong? No, it won’t; we’ve had several unimpeded run-throughs.
The winners of the dramatics competitions of Mood Indigo - Third Bell and Aagaaz will perform in Prithvi Theatre on the 6th of August 2013 2013 at 5pm, 6pm and 9 pm.
