A Whack to remember!

This may turn out to be quite a violent post, as is indicated by the title. It is rather amusing, that though the incident was not pleasant by any strech of imagination, the memory brings a smile.

I was, at the time period in question, a happy three-year-old with not the faintest hint that my happiness was going to bid temporary farewell to me. It all began, when I was selected by a dramatics teacher to play the role of Sita in Ramayana. In our adaption of the great epic, all Sita was required to do was, look helpless when Ravana kidnapped her and cry softly in the garden where she is imprisoned. As I generally have a vague and helpless expression on my face and soft crying may be induced by a threat from behind the curtains, the casting committee (comprising of the dramatics teacher) thought me perfect for the role.

The rehersals went without a hitch. The soft-crying-induction did not even require a threat. A glance at the glaring teacher sufficed. I was as helpless as helpless could be.

My mother was delighted at my newly discovered talent and two rehersals later one could see her telling the neighbours of my skills at playing "The helpless one" to perfection.

The day of the performance arrived and I was the center of attention the entire morning. I was washed, dressed, jewelled, pampered and fussed about. For the life of me, I could not understand this sudden outburst of affection in the household. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when I realised that I was being taken to school.

Now, that was a little confusing for I was wearing a bright green saree in contrast to the dull blue uniform I wore each day. I assumed that the teachers had decided to make rehersals a bit more fun.

To my utmost astonishment (which was turning to horror at an alarming rate), my mum walked in the direction of the stage. All this while I was assuming that I was acting helpless only for the entertainment of the class. I had not imagined that the play was to be performed in front of the entire school.

As the curtain went up, I was probably the most helpless looking soul ever to have walked the earth; much to the delight of my teacher. The soft crying did not need any sort of a motivation, for the minute Ravana put in his appearence I started to bawl with all my might. Ravana thought he had scared me a little too much and apologised loudly in front of the audience. Rama, being the ever loyal husband, came and punched Ravana for annoying his wife more than was necessary, with Lakshmana cheering his brother in the background. The creatures in the jungle where we were supposed to be residing, found the fight between Rama and Ravana more interesting than the grass they were supposed to be chomping, and started to applaud..

It is very true that when you are kids, you can get away with almost anything - including ruining your class play. The key word being almost.

Once I was brought back home, I recieved the worst spanking a child could ever get. Of the whacking spree, the less written..the better.

I remember my mum being reprimanded by my aunt, who had come over to visit and find out how my performance had been (and brought me chocolates!). As a result of the aforementioned reprimand, I was duly hugged and pampered and drowned in chocolates. :D

Ever since, I have never been a part of a play, except for once when I helped with the decorations and the prompting. And another time when all I had to do was deck myself up and nod approval at nobody in particular; so I looked very much a part of the decoration anyway.

Everyone has a good laugh whenever the desribed incident is told and retold on sunday afternoons. All I manage to do is laugh along and at the more traumatic points of the description.. look helpless!!