Chapter 6 Love and Monsoon

 

December 2007. What a cold month that was. The open air theatre facing the Kuhalli Lake was freezing over. Yet unsurprisingly, it was packed to the brim with enthusiastic youngsters, waiting for the youth fest to take off. I recall being this gawky looking kid from college who was writing and directing a play in what was being considered a new genre for plays in youth fests. Multiple characters, several stage settings, and lights usage for different sequences- I had been planning them all for several weeks now.

The D-day was upon us. After several other small plays from other groups, our group was called on-stage. We called ourselves “Punarvidhi”- which was a term we coined to indicate the recurring effect of fate on us. Quite rightly so, because it was fate that had brought together a group of 20-something youngsters into a common group, it was fate that had kept us together through many years of enacting plays, and it was fate that would decide where this group would head out from here.

I had always had this fascination for writing about rain; I reasoned that it simply made me write better than any other subject did. Today’s play is about a love that blossomed in the throes of monsoon. Unlike my other plays, this was a romantic tragedy and was so for a reason. As it turned out, this would be the last play we did as a group from college. For me, it was an offering to Maya. She was watching this play, and I wanted her to know this was written for her. A lame attempt to try and win her back, no doubt, but it was the most prominent thought on my mind when I started penning the play.

 

The story talks of monsoons that see both love and tragedy. In one such season, our main protagonist, whose name I can’t seem to recall, is walking through a rainy day trying to wash away his problems against the grinding rain. Head bent low, a hunched back, he is just trying to make his way home putting aside all his failures and all the bad memories that seem to haunt him every day. Quite unlike other days, on this bleak rainy day, his head and his crushed spirit are lifted by the voice of a girl singing and dancing in the rain. She is not without problems of her own, but simply put, whenever it rains, she lets it all out with dance. She forgets her pain, forgets her problems, as she dances and sings with gleaming joy. This moment is all that matters to her. Maya- that’s what I named the girl, which was for obvious reasons.

Each day of this rainy season, it rained; and our hero would forget all his troubles temporarily, just to watch her dance. He never said a word to her, ever. He just silently stood at a distance, and gazed at poetry in motion. Beats that would move him as he stood there still, grace that would earn the envy of light-footed gazelles, and a spirit that kindled the cold spirit he housed within. After several days of his unseen ardour, one day he gathers his wits and goes up to her to tell her about his love for her, about how he pined for her dance each day, about how ardently he prayed each day for rain.

 

Slowly he walked towards her, hesitating as to whether he should do it today or await tomorrow. Before he could make up his mind, a distant call turned his attention. A strapping lad about his age was running towards the girl, probably calling out her name. Before he comes to realize what has passed, the girl embraces the entrant and rejoices in joy. It was he who was the reason for her romance with the rain; it was her way of spending time with her loved one who was away from her due to important errands.

It was a sad day indeed for our hero, who resigns to fate and walks away silently, whispering a silent prayer for her happiness. A deep sigh escapes him as he turns one last time to look at the happy couple, and slowly and steadily fades away into the shadows.

 

Curtains fell. Applause roared through the theatre, probably because there is something that everyone can relate to in a story involving love or heartbreak. Our group went onstage and took our final bow, as my eyes kept looking for hers.

I saw her walking away on the aisle; and somehow, I know that my offering had affected her. Without saying anything explicitly, that day I had conveyed my undying love for my Maya. And she had walked away.

 

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