Ah, the joy of wearing a mask!

THIS WHOLE PIECE IS ABOUT THE ANNUAL THEATER FEST THAT WE HAVE IN OUR COLLEGE!!!

On the stage, to create a ripple?

Why, why? - you look to me and ask,

O dear, the joys of life are simple,

Ah, the one of wearing a mask!

There are those days when one feels that the starry night forgot to age, and remained young forever. The wind whistles past the tall trees that seem to dance in hallowed harmony under the mystic moonlight. Wars of flashlight commence amidst the shadows at the Hillview Stadium, as the well-lit hoarding of our Beloved remains in rapt supervision. The arms of sleep seem to have embraced all the noise around into a serene silence. Yet somewhere in the stillness, a dim fluorescence engulfs muffled voices in vehement argumentation. Listening to the voices wafting from the corridors on the C floor, one would assume that the spirits of Socrates and Plato were convening an annual meeting discussing their progress report on understanding the complex simplicities of human life! Apparitions, you say? Apparently not. The drama season has just set foot in Vidyagiri.

* * *

As I peer into the yesteryears, I see the solitary stage light up in myriad flashes, nourished with a multitude of melodies, draped in a plethora of colours. Countenances of many masked faces sweep the stage, and I watch on in gratitude at the levels of intellectual thinking they have stimulated in the august audience that has been known to never accept any standard below 10 feet over the perfection mark! Watching the wonderful elucidation of the ‘split personality’ by the talented team that took drama to new heights, I wonder if Stevenson would have re-written Jekyll and Hyde in new light! Scenes from an allegory of the dimensions of time, dappled with zesty humour, flash across the stage. As I observe the Station Master blowing the whistle to wait for yet another Train to arrive on the stage, I stay wide-eyed breathing in the poignant moment of Aswatthama embracing the liberating Light. Tempted I am to mention the names underneath the masks that lit up the stage; but I realize then that the stage is eternal, and the artists but ephemeral effigies that come and go (Shakespeare, did you say?). Year after year, in unfailing regularity, various artists – actors, musicians, script-writers, costume designers, audio-visual specialists – add color and glory to the stage, and take home lessons in talent – and in the process, leave behind trails for posterity to tend and extend. Trails of anonymity, trails of amity, trails of the travails of talent in its pursuit for perfection.

As I stare behind the stage, I stay transfixed in admiration for the toil that remains concealed behind those cozy curtains of fame. While the masked faces on stage subsume the spotlight, days and nights of anonymous effort by humble hands stay unnoticed in the shadows. Laurels greater than fame await these little acts in years to come! My salutations to that spirit of selflessness and sacrifice that silently slips away in the darkness behind the stage, but for which these events would seldom savour success.

And for once, in unanimous acceptance, I categorically state that here lies a journey where the means always stand taller than the ends. The weary weeks of conceptualization, the intense days of practice, the tense hours of final preparation, and those few minutes of unbridled show making! The seeming enormity of the reward induces a feeling that the show of the making is the fruition. Nay! The actual fruition lies in the making of the show. In the moments of togetherness, in those of creative expression. Victory and loss are but two sides of the same coin of effort – just a minor shift in perspective. And life ensures it provides opportunities for every individual to grow beyond perspectives, and view effort in its totality! For then, it does dawn - to paraphrase the famed Corinthians: O Victory, where is thy sting? O Loss, where is thy victory?

This event is but a tribute to the Source of creativity and imagination, the sole silent Motivator. Like the orange-wrapped boards on stage, He plays the witness; at every moment, a part of the show – and yet unseen, unknown.

I wonder if Darwin realized while postulating his natural selection theory that it does not take generations for favorable traits to evolve! With every passing year, the show has always got better, rendering the past further behind, and the horizons of future further beyond. Gone are the days when the titles of the event needed phrases. Brevity, they say, is the soul of life – also, the soul of imagination and abstraction. And this year, again, a ‘contest’ is certainly on the cards, and a ‘code’ certain to be cracked! Here’s wishing the stars of this year glory in their endeavour – now, and in many many years to come!

* * *

Going back to where we came from, the joys of life are indeed simple – strolling by the glistening meadows, stroking a little puppy staring in innocence into your eyes, listening to the white waters meandering their way through a creek….and why not, just the simple joy of wearing a mask!

Did I miss something? Ahem. The greater joys of life are even simpler. To peel the mask that conceals the charming countenance. And to just Be...