"Lend Me a Tenor"

Well guys, the play was a success!

On Monday (March 23rd), when we went for our stage and tech rehearsal, I walked in with a feeling of awe. G. D. Birla Sabhaghar boasts a lovely stage. The acoustics are brilliant, the hall is beautiful, the seats are cushy and there's a sense of grandness and plushness all around.

While the stage was being set and the sets were being nailed into place, I took a walk all around the hall. Stage right, from the wings, there are a set of stairs taking us up to the first floor where we have the green rooms. Our costumes were already hanging in the closets and they seemed to be winking at us. I then went to the second floor where we would be changing. There was a sign outside our door that read, "Female Artist". I don't know why, but I got a real kick out of that. I was a 'female artist'. I felt as if I had arrived...I could almost hear the applause in my head. I paused outside the door and looked at the words for a while, drank them in and let them tumble about inside my head for a bit. Then I went in and saw that our costume designer had pasted sheets next to a mirror for each of our characters, listing out our costumes, accessories and props, scene by scene. That made me stop, stare and smile too.

Tuesday night (March 24th), or Opening Night (that sounds so much grander, don't you think?), the audience was great. There were a few glitches on stage, but thankfully, nobody noticed. Strangely enough, I wasn't really nervous. Excited and all fluttery-butterflies-causing-a-mildly-pleasant-ticklish-sensation-in-the-stomach, but not nervous. And the reason for that is that no one from my side was there to literally mark my every move.

But, just before I was due to make my entrance, a hundred thoughts started swirling in my head. All the possible 'worst things that could happen to me right now on sage' scenarios started to play themselves out in front of my eyes... What if I tripped on the hem of my gown while twirling onto stage as I made my grand entrance? What if I stumbled and fell thanks to the uncomfy high heels? What if I forgot my lines? What if my co-actors suddenly blanked out? What if? What if? What if? Too many ' what the bloody ifs?' for comfort. But, but! Once I got on stage and became somebody else...they all just melted away! :)

The second show (March 25th) was fabulous. The hall was full to bursting, the audience laughed more, thereby totally pumping up out morale and we even felt ourselves cranking up our performances a few notches. A few new goof-ups, but the audience was none the wiser. And I was shaking like a leaf! The pleasant, fluttering butterflies had morphed into giant UFO's playing football with a planet in crowded outer space. Reason? MIM, parents, in-laws, BIL-ly Boy, SIL and HOARDES of friends were in the audience. Even our lovely dipali of 'this and that' fame was there! And she even came backstage! Awww! I was so touched! Phew!

And yes, truth time, I goofed up on day two. I gave one of my co-actors the wrong cue, thereby totally stumping him. But I quickly righted my wrong and we carried on as if nothing happened. Not a good memory to relive!

I can't even begin to tell you how liberating it felt to be on stage again, doing something that I absolutely LOVED! I didn't realise how much I missed it until performance day. It really had been a long time.

I think I'll do it again sometime.

Provided I'm asked, that is!

The Prince and the Cockroach Squasher

(Edited to add the bit at the end...)

Yesterday, the four of us and my parents went for a birthday party. My Maa-Janoni's schoolfriend's grandson's 1st birthday! (Whew! Could you say that in one breath?) ANyway, it wasn't really a kiddie affair at all...more like a formal introduction of the little tyke to family and friends, since the three of them have just moved to Kolkata from London.

The venue was a nice swanky banquet hall in a nice swanky hotel. There wasn't any kiddie 'entertainment', like you get nowadays at birthday parties...you know what I mean, magic shows, clowns, ball pools, etc. But we were early, the banguet hall was huge and I had two little boys who were born restless and with ants in their denims. They just took one look at the open space and telepathically communicated to each other, "Let's make Mamma lose the weight she claims we put on her!", and they started running from one side to the other. The MIM and I had quite a time trying to keep the bundles of wriggles on a chair for a good length of time! (Note to self...birthday party with boys minus ayah also means lose the heels and stay short!) But the hosts and my mum's friend kept assuring us that they weren't causing any harm and we really didn't need to sit on them. So, we relaxed a little bit and truthfully speaking, they were so happy. I was just scared witless about one of them running into a server with a precariously balanced tray laden with soft drinks and juices. When the crowds started growing, so did my anxiety and I tried to think of an in teresting way to occupy at least one of them. I set my sights on the EO, because I knew the YO would follow his big brother's footsteps. And it turned out to be quite literal too!

I asked the EO to count the diamonds in one row from one end of the carpet to the other. It was quite funny really, he couldn't walk in a straight line (hmm? should I conduct a study about alcoholic-like effects of Mountain Dew in children under the age of six?) and started walking in a zig-zag pattern...with a YO, in absolute puppy dog fashion, trailing him, trying to copy him and falling over his own two little feet! After repeated attempts, the EO came to me said that he couldn't do it.

I took my big baby by the hand, led him to a corner and showed him how it was done -- by putting one foot in front of the other upon the diamonds, so that he could remain in a straight line. My EO looked at me and exclaimed horrified, "But Mamma! Fairies walk like that! (???) I'm not a fairy!"
I chuckled at his point of view and also thought how relieved his father would be to hear that ;p when he said something even cuter...
"I'm a prince!"
And it didn't end there. He went on, "And you're a queen and my baba's the king."

Aww! My little sweetheart! My dear! My prince! You certainly made me feel like a queen I must admit!
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What 'thing' do I detest most in the world? Cockroaches! My nightmare is to be trapped in a box with them crawling all over them...eeewww! Blech! I couldn't even write that without my heart beating faster and my skin crawling! Yuck, yuck, YUCK! I once even broke some, umm..err...bathroom furniture, because a cockroach crawled onto my arm!!

Anyway, so here I am at my Maa-Janoni's and she's sprayed bug spray all over and the miserable wretches that Time left behind are crawlinh out of the houses pores and struggling with their last breaths before flopping onto their backs, waving all three pairs of legs in the air and fading into oblivion. The more resilient ones, however, are limping across the floor, hoping to find an un-sprayed, unaffected drain somewhere nearby (hah! not bloody likely!)

Well, when I saw these things, slow, dimwitted and ugly, moving like blobs of sludge, I got up on the bed with trusty laptop and stayed there. The EO screeched in a manner that could put a Victorian soprano to shame and I couldn't help but recall that just last night he was making some kind of remark about not being a fairy but a prince! So while he tried to scramble up the ayah like a monkey on a banyan tree, and I looked on totally unamused, who should arrive on the scene but my little hero, our saviour and henceforth known as Enemy No. 1 of the Family Genus Species "Cockroach Grossicky Pukalot" a

There he stood, arms and legs akimbo, equally outraged and fascinated by the mere precence of these things. Thinking fast and acting even faster, he promptly decided to chase the one nearest him and cover it with his napkin as if trying to suffocate the evil out of it!

Aaah! My little hero! You cockroach squasher, you! Mamma need never be afraid of those horrid things now, need she?
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And then of course my gallant cockroach annhilator goes and plonks himself on his grandmother's dressing table top, finds a BIG bindi, picks it up gently between his themb and fore finger, lightly and delicately places it between his eyebrows, admires himeself for the longest time and then turns to me with a twinkle in each eye and a smile that goes straight to my funny bone.

My Baby's Growing Up While It's Christmas in Goa

Yes, I know. The title of the post is very intriguing, but read on and all shall be clear...

It started on a Monday morning, on the 9th of March, to be precise. The YO's school called up asking me to be at his school around noon with a certain amount of cash ready.

At the scheduled time, I was ushered into a room where other moms whose kids studied in the various pre-nursery sections, were assembling. I chatted with the few I knew and then the administrator walked in. She told us that our not-yet-two-and-a-half-feet-tall babies would be putting up a concert for us in school. There was a collected gasp of delight as we pictured our babies on stage. Just how adorable would they be? The concert was scheduled for the following week, on the 19th, Thursday, at 6 p.m. We had to send our kiddies an hour earlier so that they cold get into costume and make-up. The heme of the concert was "Celebrating India".

This was the first time the school was organising a concert where the pre-nursery children would be performing. The EO and the Nephew never had a concert, but they did in Nursery, and the Nephew was scheduled for his final concert in this school on the 24th (he starts the new school too with the EO). The Niece also starts a new school from the coming academic year, so it was going to be fun seeing her and my YO on stage.

We were then asked to go to our childrens' classrooms where we handed over the money for costumes etc. to the class teacher and she told us what songs our kiddies would be dancing to. My EO was going to be in a Goan Carnival Dance and a Christmas Dance. Aaaahhh! That explained why the little one had been singing Jingle Bells all through March! I thought it was rather late for Christmas hang-over to strike!

Well, 19th dawned soon enough. The babies didn't have school in the morning. We dropped them off at 5 p.m. Then, at 5.40, my parents, the EO, MIM, Mum-in-law, SIL and BIL-ly Boy went to school and took our places. The EO was greeted with lots of hugs from his once-upon-a-time teachers and he shyly lapped it up.

A make-shift stage had been made. There were chairs for the parents and low benches for elder brothers and sisters. The SIL and I managed to find two seats in the front which we swooped down upon, 'cause come on, we wanted a good look at our babies, even if it meant sitting away from the rest of the family. Selfish? Yes, maybe, but I don't care. Where my babies are concerned, I want to be able to drink up their sight as much as possible...without resorting to violence, of course! ;p I got a corner seat, but it was better than where we were originally sitting, so I can't complain too much.

The EO sat in front with a friend whose sister studies in one of the pre-nursery sections. The students of the Sr. KG (the Nephew's class) were also going to perform, to lengthen the program a bit. So, we had a lot of personal interest at stake!

And then, the show started! What can I say except that it was cuteness overload all the way! The Nephew was in one of the very first items. He was doing the bhangra and it was so much fun! It reminded me of the Bro; he was in a bhangra dance too, for his school concert when he was in the 1st Std.

Soon, the Niece came on and she was looking gorgeous in a colourful ghagra. The moment she stepped on stage, she froze and the SIL and I looked at each other. But, after about 30 seconds or so, she snapped out of it and did her thing! Well done, little one!

And then, the narrator took us to Goa. I could feel my heart pounding...my baby's stage debut! I could hardly believe it. And when he walked on, leading the line, wearing a silky white chirt and bright red pants, clutching onto sticks with colourful streamers, I got all teary-eyed and nearly forgot to breathe. My heart was pounding, but throughout the entire day at home, he had been threatening me that he wouldn't go to school, wouldn't go to aunty, wouldn't dance on stage. But when the music started, my little boy started doing the moves that they'd been rehearsing for a month. He had a shy smile on his lips and I noticed that his eyes were fixed on something, or rather someone. Following his gaze, I realised that he had locked eyes with his big brother, who in turn, was looking at him, all smiles and with loads of love, encouragement and pride shining in his eyes and wrapping it around his younger brother. That got me even more teary-eyed, witnessing, from the fringes, the silent brotherly bonding and love-fest that was going on in front of so many, many people who didn't have a clue while I was the only one who could see it, feel it, understand it and greedily soak up the memory of it to warm the depths of my soul.

After a few more dances, the Niece came on again, this time for a Diwali dance and no, she didn't freeze. She had a blast playing with the flower petals and scattering them all around her. That was just part of the dance, but she was having so much fun with that, she decided to dispense with the other steps and concentrate on the feel of the petals in her soft, fair hands. Two or three other girls had the same idea as well.

Soon enough, t was time for the YO's second dance, "Jingle Bells". This time, in addition to his earlier costume, he was sporting a red vest, a Santa cap and he was holding a tambourine-like instrument in each of his hands. Again, he came out, kept his eyes glued on his brother and he danced to the hilt! The lump in my throat magically came back again and it seemed bigger than last time! I couldn't get enough of the sight of him seriously and studiously recreating the steps that he'd been taught. He did the whole thing from start to finish, without faltering and by the end of it, I was ready to stand on top of my chair and scream myself hoarse, "Bravo, bravo!" I didn't, of course, but I did clap until my hands were sore.

The program ended with the Sr. KG kids singing "Vande Mataram" and the audience joined in as well. We gave all the kids and their hard-working, patient, loving teachers a well-deserved standing ovation. Their sincere dedication had made this colourful celebration of the best things about our country, a memorable experience.

The MIM had to go rush back to work, so I didn't get a chance to see him. But while waiting to pick up the kids, BIL-ly Boy sheepishly admitted to me that he thought another child was the EO and he misled everyone into believing the same. My parents, my Mum-in-law and gasp! horror of horrors, my MIM!!! I was flabbergasted! Hmph! He actually dared call himself the father! It was only when the YO came out leading the pack for the Goan Dance that MIM dear jumped out of his skin and yelled to the family, "No, no! That wasn't him, THAT'S him! That's YO! That's my son! That's my baby! My baby boy!" Yeah, well, he may have redeemed himself as a father in his own eyes, but I'm still in two minds about disowning him from that position!

While I was waiting to be called to stage to pick up my little star, my other love, my EO came up to me, his eyes aglow with love for his baby brother and he said to me, "Mamma, I want to go to stage and pick up YO, ok". In other words, he wanted to be the big brother that he is!

When the YO was finally brought to the stage to be handed over to us, the EO quickly ran up, grabbed his little brother by the hand and proudly told him, "YO, tumi khub bhaalo korechcho!" (YO, you did very well!) The YO looked up at his dada and excitedly exclaimed, "Aami Santa Koz koyechchi!" (I was Santa Koz {Clause!}) When his eyes caught mine, his smile grew bigger and his eyes shone more and he repeated what he had just told his dada, "Mamma, mamma, aami Santa Koz koyechchi!"

Yes my baby, I saw! I saw! And you know what? I'll never forget it!

Two This-Morning's-Incidents

To stop myself from thinking about today and getting all hysterical and operatic (although I guess it would help me get into character ;p), I thought I'd relax with some good music and good blogs. Forgot about two screaming brats on summer holiday, but hey! At least the mission of not working myself into a bundle of nerves is working!

The EO, my son, my teeny-weeny bundle of baby-blue joy is well and truly a big boy! He's actually sitting here, here, right in front of me, and reading! On his own! With no help! The book? Well, absolutely one of the best early readers written for children all over the world...Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs and Ham". It's silly, it's easy, it choc-a-bloc full of rhyming words, it's got action and it's down-right fun! It's a must-have in every house with a child. But, the EO is reading! On his own and his face is just glowing with triumph!
Well done my little genius, my star, my heart's delight! You've made this book-worm Mamma of yours so happy she can do cartwheels! But since I never really could and I can't chance a hip-replacement surgery today of all days, please settle for the next best thing...my heart doing the cartwheels and me recording this for posterity in the bloggosphere!
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Both my boys were sitting on DaddyDearest's lap this morning, listening to a record (yes, my parents still listen to those old things, and I quite love 'em too). The record happened to be my all-time childhood favourite and the EO has already succumbed to its magic while the YO is slowly but surely getting drawn in as well. "Hingshuti Doittyo" or "The Selfish Giant".

Now, as I mentioned, it was a childhood favourite and the record jacket has a beautiful artwork, with all the lyrics and the entire script, written on its back. Now both, the record jacket as well as the picture have seen better, better, much better days. My two boys were fighting over it and it really is in no state to be manhandled, or in this case, brathandled, since it already carries bandages of cello tape bearing witness to fights of another eon ago, when this Mamma was a girl and she'd have to sit on her younger brother to get it out of his icky, sweaty hands. So my dad just removed it from the vicinity and put it somewhere where it couldn't be torn to shreds in a split second.

This gesture invited my YO's wrath and he started pummeling DaddyDearest's arms with his tiny little fists. The EO, outraged and horrified, got out of the cosy haven of my father's lap, took his younger brother by the arm and made him face the wall. He then scolded him for being a naughty boy and came up to me to seriously tell me that I should call him only when I thought he had been punished enough.

When my mom came in on the scene, she took one look at my dad and me trying to stifle our laughter and asked the EO what happened and the EO very seriously said, "O daduku key dhoraa maaraa korchchilo, tai aami okey punishment diyechchi. Okey stand in the corner kore diyechchi". (He was hitting Naanu, so I've punished him. I've made him stand in the corner.)

I then told him to go and get his little brother. He went, took him by the arm, made him stand in front of my DaddyDearest and said, "Daduku key sorry bollo" (Say sorry to Naanu). The little tyke's quivering, lower lip was enough for a grandfather's heart and that was the end of that saga.

The YO, sufficiently hurt at his elder brother's authoritarian behaviour, decided to avoid him for as long as possible.

But, five minutes later, I hear the sound of laughter and what do I see? My EO lying flat on his back on the couch, the YO lying down on top of him and the two of them pulling each other's cheeks and making up all sorts of funny endearments to call each other!

Sigh! If that ain't brotherly love, then I don't know what is!

My Calcutta Debut

I have some very important posts about my babies pending. But tonight I need to write about moi.

I love acting. Theatre is one of my bigger loves. You know how some people can't watch movies or eat in restaurants alone...I can, but not too happily. A play or a concert however, is something else altogether. I can watch a play alone and I have on many, many occasions...and that too, very happily. I used to hate missing out on a good play in Bangalore and the lack of company never deterred me from missing something really good. I haven't had a chance to catch too many plays here In Calcutta, much less act...but all that is going to change tomorrow.

Tomorrow I act in my FIRST play in Calcutta. I've been a part of a couple of book readings, in English as well as Bengali; I've MCed a couple of events and I've even sung and danced before an audience. But tomorrow will be the first time I will be donning the grease-paint, putting on another person's skin and morphing into someone else, albeit for a few hours only, here in aamaader Kolkata.

The last time was Bombay, more than six years ago and what a fabulous time I had then...the show was spectacular and went on for the longest time. It was a musical too and with a very reputed and respected name as well, so I was a really happy chicca that one year in Bombay.

You know what, actually, this won't be my first time in a play. Just last October, as part of the evening entertainment of our neighbourhood Durga Puja, I acted in a Bengali play. So I guess technically that was my stage debut.

But heck! Tomorrow is my ENGLISH play stage debut and in G. D. Birla Sabhaghar, no less...not some rickety old, mangy excuse for a stage made by hastily nailing together a few rotting planks.
The name of the play is "Lend Me a Tenor" by Ken Ludwig. It's an out-and-out comedy, full of slap-stick humour, ribald jokes, innuendos and risque business. My goodness! My first adult play! Tee hee! "I feel like a fancy French tart!" No, no!! That's just one of my lines in the play! And no! That is not who my character is! I actually play a lady of great social standing; one who is supposed to be a paradigm of elegance and culture. Her name is Julia Levrett and she is Chairperson of the Opera Guild...hence, the elegance and culture. However, she is a bit OTT, has dramatic flair and lives her life as if in an opera. So you see, dear friends and readers, she's quite like the dear, loony aunt who makes family get-togethers fun!

I am most kicked about my costume! For the first time ever in my life, I will be wearing a GOWN! And let me tell you, I was worried, frightened, shitting bricks and having nightmares about the final outcome! See, the other three women in the play are slim and sexy. In fact, two of them can teach Kareena Kapoor a thing or two about being a natural size zero and still looking luscious. The director made absolutely no bones at all about the fact that he thought I was fat...he actually asked me to lose weight and he told the costume designer at least a couple of times, that "Julia is fat!" Anyways, let's not dwell upon those instances where murder and not the play were top-most on my mind, but suffice it to say that I was having mini heart attacks wondering what I was going to be trussed up in! I knew the other three women were going to carry off their gowns and dresses like divas. I was worried that I'd look like a sack of potatoes -- a very, very fancy sack of potatoes, a silken sack of potatoes, but a sack of potatoes nevertheless! However, the designer has done a brilliant job! I am wearing a stunning off-shoulder and totally backless concoction, spun out of black lace and moss-green silk. I don't remember wearing anything so sexy and daring in my adult life...and no, the secret somethings that were a part of my honeymoon definitely don't count.

It’s not a great play, guys. It’s neither brilliant, nor thought-provoking. It’s neither intellectual nor stimulating. It’s a mindless piece of farce that I hope will entertain and have people chuckling, laughing out loud and guffawing snortily. If the audience leaves smiling and doesn’t get down to dissecting the unrealities of it…then great! We'll have achieved what we set out to do and I for one, will be one happy actor!

And right now, I'm all excited. Of course I'm all tense and traumatic, diva and dramatic, but the bottom-line is that my head is spinning and I'm goose-prickly all over.

The shows are tomorrow and day-after. Most of my friends are coming on Wednesday. Now MIM, parents, in-laws (incl. BIL-ly Boy and wife) as well as a dear aunt-in-law, are also coming then.

I hope I can get some sleep, because God knows I need it.

If nothing else, I need the butterflies in my stomach to stop fluttering about. For a while at least.

Pray for me, please! Won't you?

Because I need to remember...

just how sensitive and loving my EO is. This post is about him.

~Because DaddyDearest hasn't been in the best of health, the boys and I have been staying with my parents. DaddyDearest has a severe chest infection and his blood pressure has shot through the roof, not to mention that his sugar is high! He is a diabetic, but never suffered from high BP before. Along with the doctor's prescribed medication, I decided to start him off on alternative therapies -- accupressure and a weekly massage.
The accupressure-fellah comes six times a week, tapes the pressure points on and instructs DaddyDearest when to take them off. During one of the sessions, the EO happened to be around. He watched with grave concern over what was happening to his grandfather. He took it all in silently, then he went over to my DaddyDearest, took the old man's face in his hands, looked deep into his eyes and asked him softly and sincerely, "Daduku, tomaar kawshto hochchey?" (Naanu, are you in pain?)

~When the masseur came over yesterday to give my DaddyDearest his first massage, I went in for a bath afte explaining my dad's spondilosys to the masseur. After I came out of my bath, I saw the YO playing with his toys, but I couldn't find the EO anywhere, so I asked Maa-Janoni where he was. She said he was in DaddyDearest's room watching over him. Apparently, when he said he wanted to go in, Ma-Janoni tried to dissuade him, but he burst into tears and said that he would go off to Bangalore and not take her. He sat in the room, quietly watching over his grandfather and whenever Maa-Janoni and I would peek in, he'd put his finger to his lips and then show us his hand and assure us that everything was alright.

~ Due to a very important engagement, I couldn't take the EO to his classmates birthday party yesterday. But my parents willingly agreed. Apparently, he had a blast with all his friends. But, all that fun didn't make him forget about the fact that he had to his grandparents were 'his responsibility'. Admist all the tatoo-making and running around and the general chos, my EO came over with packets of popcorn...first for his beloved grandmother, and then a couple of minutes later, for his grandfather. My mom was all teary-eyed as she told me all this.

That's how I am as I record all this.

He Said "I'm Sorry"

He apologised. Sincerely.

Well done Mr. Gaurav Chopra. It takes courage to admit you were wrong and say sorry.

Well done.