Productive Involvements

“Chutiye, tera kuch involvement hi nahi dikh raha hai!” 
Exactly one month ago, the director of our play, Amatya had fired at me. His allegations weren’t wrong. We were performing a one-act play for a youth theatre competition (called Bhausaheb). Those days, I would be in a sucky mood. Our team members had a lot of issues with one another and unfortunately I was on bad terms with a few too. Hence I would prefer to be left alone, would sit by myself reading some book while others were practicing. My role in the play was small, listed as ‘extra’, so I didn’t have much to practice. I would do odd-jobs helping to make the set, run over to bring some items but I hadn’t made a single worthy contribution to the play.

One month later, we got the opportunity to perform the same one-act once more, commercially. We had won the youth theatre competition and everybody was super-confident. We practiced for only four days with no real seriousness at all. Most of the time would pass in kidding around and bouts of laughter. Nevertheless, it was fun. This time around, while the issues were still there, my own equation with everybody was mended, as a result my mood was good. Amatya’s firing last month which was still ringing in my ears had made me wary of being un-involved too. 
Our victory at the competition had gotten our lead actress a big break in commercial theater. Our set-designer had a big fashion show coming up, the director was very busy at his job, and since this was a commercial show, there was no winning or losing. Hence, even though I was enthusiastic, we practiced for just a few hours and I wondered how I could possibly be more involved in the play in such conditions.

Male lead Karan Bhanushali practicing with the 10 Modaz (set)

It was the day before our big show. Our set, consisting of only 10 square stools (modaz) needed finishing. The set-designer Ishita wasn’t coming, so the responsibility was on us kids. I needed to buy florescent paper sheets for the modaz, so I decided to make a trip to Dadar, under the assumption that the sheets would be cheaper there. With an old school friend for company, I hunted for the affordable sheets for a while but in vain. I called up Ishita, telling her the price.
“Can you go to Marine Lines?” she asked me. “You will get much cheaper sheets there.” It was already sun down. Going to Marine Lines and then back home would mean an average two hours.

“You will need to spare at least an hour” Ishita warned me echoing my thoughts.

I considered for a moment. Being the summer holidays of Junior College, I was completely jobless so sparing an hour wasn’t a big deal. On the other hand I was tired after the day’s practice and going down another 5 stations seemed like huge labour. “You lazy ass” I said to myself and then to her- “Yes sure, it’s no big deal.” Considering what a huge chance Amatya had given us kids of working on stage commercially, I could surely walk a few miles to save him some bucks. Co-incidentally, my problems with my team friends had also ended because of Amatya’s wise words. I owed.“Yeah tell me the address.”
“No!” my friend groaned. “I’m not coming all the way to Marine Drive!”

I dragged him along all the same. I had already forgotten the directions Ishita had given me. As fate would have it, her phone couldn't be reached either. Losing my way quite a few times, I walked round and round in the Bazaar for almost an hour. I thankfully found the landmarks she had described before my friend lost his patience and then I found the particular shop too. After some bargaining, the shopkeeper sold me finally sold me the sheets in half the market price! Victory!!!

Karan Bhanushali with Director Amatya Goradia

But it was too soon to call victory. I called Amatya to ask him if I needed to buy radium. “Achha sunn” he spoke over the phone. “You might have to make the body parts again tomorrow.” For a particular sequence in the play, we had made separate fake body parts of a human being. Apparently, those body parts had been lost after the show.

“I’ll look for them in my garage. But be ready in case I don’t find them. Call Smit, Saarth.” Amatya said. Shit! That meant a lot of work!!

I reached home at ten. After a hurried dinner, I called up Smit and Drashti, two other team members who had also helped in production last time. They showed immediate readiness to work.“So the complete responsibility of that work is on you. Tu puri jimmedaari lega?” Smit asked. I hesitated. Full responsibility? What if I failed? But I couldn't possibly say no. We decided that we would meet up at Smit’s place.

Now there was high pressure on me. Amatya would inform me whether he got the parts the next morning. But I restlessly started working on it that night itself. The body parts had to be made from scrap, literally. I collected used water bottles and newspapers. I made a list of all the things we needed. I still had to make my own props for the next day. Then realizing that the day would be a long one, I decided that I needed some sleep.

Come morning, Amatya gave the confirmation of having brilliantly lost the box of fake body parts. So indeed we had to make all of them again. Drashti, who lived close by and I immediately started working, starting by going on a shopping spree. Brushes, tape, paints, glue, twine strings, scissors, masks, paper cups, papers, hand gloves and in fact every stationary item available in the bazaars of Vile Parle made its way into our shopping. After an hour-long travel to Ghatkopar with all the items and modaz, we finally sat down to work.

The original genius masks made by Ishita

Smit and his mother played the role of a host wonderfully. We enjoyed a wonderful lunch, coffee, snacks in between. Drashti actually completed most of the finishing of the modaz all by herself with assistance from Deepesh and Smit. Saarth helped me form the skeleton of the limbs and other body parts. There was still a lot to do. The body parts had to be covered with newspapers, painted, finished and dried off.

The body parts finally!

My friend Aahan help me a lot in finishing off the work. Funny enough, a month ago during Bhausaheb, Aahan and I practically hated each other. Today however, he was sitting with me finishing off the body parts. I completed work of the masks. It was 9:00 already. The show was supposed to start at 9. Our play was at 11. I still had to get ready. I still had to eat.

I was stressed. In front of me, sat Jessica. She had a big role in the play and was stressed out enough as well. However, she was calmly sitting, headphones on, swaying to the music. Something about it made me laugh. She must have noticed because she looked up, catching my eye and began swinging more enthusiastically. Without thinking at all, I started swaying my head too, without any idea of what the music was and we both laughed. I did know this looked stupid, but it gave me a sense of relief, pushing away the tension. One month ago, Jessica and I weren't talking either. I got the feeling that everything had become better now, with me, with the team and there was no reason to be stressed.

The team of our play (Bhausaheb Victory)

There were some great moments that day. Aahan, Jessica, finally completing all the work, being praised by everyone for doing this fine, a thumbs-up from Amatya that he was satisfied with the set and the props; Ishita, who finally came at night, giving me a small nod of approval that meant the world for me at that moment; somebody telling Ishita that I was the one who would carry her baton forward and actually performing the play. But none of these were the highlight of the day. On stage, Amatya credited my name to “Nepathya” and it was a high moment for me. But that wasn't the highlight of the day either. The highlight occurred after the pack-up, when we were standing below the auditorium.

We were standing in a big circle and Amatya was giving a few pointers, praises, instructions and applauds. In that, he said something simple like “Kalpak, today your work showed your real involvement.” 
He then moved on to compliment somebody else, but I clung to the small sentence, a big smile plastered on my face. And quite immodestly, I felt really, really proud of myself...