Here in the East, deep reverence is given to inanimate objects, concepts, tools and traditions. In India, cycles, televisions, laptops, houses, cows, even axes & sickles are amongst the many tools that can be considered holy. A shopkeeper performs a short prayer at the front door before he opens up shop in the morning. An autorickshaw driver refuses to take his first ride before his dashboard is adorned with flowers, or an image of his deity of choice. The old TVS 50 bike is considered Goddess Lakshmi (a representation of wealth) to many small business owners in Tamilnadu, for its diligent mule-like labours in running a business. The examples are infinite, and calls for another article on fascinating objects or places that are deified in this country.
This reverence comes from a profound respect in our culture for the things and places that represent our ways of life. To the fisherman, the boat is god. To the musician, her violin, and to the armed forces, their weapons. You might have seen a sportsman enter the stadium and smear a bit of the field’s dirt onto his forehead.
All of these are honest expressions of gratitude to the instruments and arenas upon which our lifestyle rests. Thank you, for helping me be who I am. Thank you, for allowing me to lead this life at your mercy.
I sincerely appreciate this reverence. It shows that you take your work or art seriously, and bring an unwavering respect to all your activities in that field. More effort, more attention to detail. More care. Gives us a whole new meaning to the phrase “performed his duties religiously.”
For me, the subject of my reverence is the Stage.
2017
My drama teacher would always remove his shoes before stepping onto the stage. If the situation demanded wearing shoes, he would close his eyes, touch the stage tenderly and place his hand to his chest before stepping on. Stage is God, he would say.
Damn, that’s cool, I thought to myself. I should start doing that too. And so I did.
What started as emulation became habit, which turned to tradition, and finally became the reverence that I hold today.
2009
YamaDharmaraja, Chitragupta & The Spark
On the left above is me, aged about 6, playing Chitragupta, the registrar of the dead. (On the right is my friend, playing the stubborn Lord Yama, the god of death.) My father wrote a hilarious satirical play about Chitragupta losing his laptop to a hacker and with it the so-called “nice & naughty” list, rendering the operations of the department of death compromised.
I barely remember how the play went, or whether my dad was at all satisfied with how we performed his script. But I remember how much I loved doing it. I was a vessel for more such creative outputs of my parents as a child, and even did a hot 10 minutes of standup comedy in my vernacular, Tamil.
As time went by, my father unwittingly helped me grow in the performance arts through my school days, thanks to his natural artistic affinity, through any and all avenues available, be it a poetry recitation competition, debates, drama contests or improv. I picked up his skill and made it my own soon enough.
The arts are taken seriously in my family, with my mother as a Carnatic Music teacher and my father learning the Mridangam, a percussion instrument. There are several more experienced practitioners in my extended and joint family as well. I trained in Carnatic Music and violin in my school days. I am still but an amateur violinist, unfortunately, and am trying to get better. Still, the exposure to music at a young age is valuable and eye-opening.
But I’m Scared - Killing Stage Fright & Cosby
There was one event that I distinctly remember. We were on vacation in Coorg, and there was a Saturday night community event being conducted at the place we were staying. They had an open mic evening, and I was asked to go and perform something. To be exact: standup comedy from Bill Cosby, Himself. For some odd reason my cousins and I could recite the entire one-hour set by heart, in Cosby’s trademark Philadelphia accent. Don’t ask.
Point is, I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was scared that it would be cringe, and had a complete meltdown and bawled my face off. It’s a small, inconsequential thing, but I remember that day vividly as my own failure.
I posted this on Google Plus that night in 2015. Not quite sure what I was thinking or why I was so devastated, but I think I expected more of myself. Something clicked and I started actively seeking that discomfort and putting myself there on purpose after this episode. Some months down the line, I did perform that standup.
I am 21 now, and it has been years since I have experienced stage fright. I have been in far too many uncomfortable situations and unprepared performances that I now feel none of that fear anymore. But lack of feeling is far from the case. I feel the opposite of stage fright. A stage giddiness of sorts. You feel yourself getting goosebumps, heart-rate stabilizing, and the world around you getting incredibly slow, as if you were the Flash experiencing moments in bullet-time. That sensation of clarity is an excitement that I often find myself chasing.
Today & tomorrow (?)
I have been lucky enough to have the opportunity to pursue different kinds of relationships with the stage. I have experimented with many kinds of theatre, acting in front of the camera, music and even magic shows. It allows you to be different people, learn empathy and express yourself in ways you never knew were possible. You see, all of this is small-scale stuff and happens alongside my professional career, but perhaps one day I will be able put more time into it.
I love the blinding floodlights, the glint of eyes staring from the audience, laughs and gasps, boos and hecklers, I love it all. It is a profound feeling to entertain, to surprise, to move, or to convince an audience, even if it’s only for a couple minutes. It is riveting, it is stimulating. And the people you work with to make it happen will become your friends for life and share unforgettable memories with you.
Now, I do not partake in substance or drink, but if I must admit my addiction to something, it is the stage arts. I can only ever remember the events leading to the show and after it, but never the performance itself, the same way a drunk can never seem to remember the night before or how he got there.
The skills one gains from these arts have been relevant for me in almost every other field. The stage has given me a lot. All I can give it back is my reverence, and the promise that I will give it more of myself in the future.
If you want your work to be authentic, you want it to be any good, I believe you need to bring with you the reverence we discussed today. You must be a fanatic. With a bow to the wooden floor, a gentle stroke of my arm, and my hand to my heart, until we meet again.
Thank you for reading,
Prahlad