Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Resemblance to people living or dead is accurate only to the extent of the names of the characters, the show, the actors and their biographic details. Every other bit is fallacious and mordant.
Dedication: To the acutely gnostic, preeminently au courant and overwhelmingly mature delegates of the intersection of two streets that is of the nature of an interlacing, twining, looping, etc., of a cord or a rope, or the like.
It was the annus mirabilis 534 BC, in City Dionysia, Athens, Thespis of Icaria effectuated more than just the rubric of The Primogenial Actor, he also annexed the primordial contest for histrionics. Concurrent to his acceptance eulogy, while acknowledging his mom, his dad, God, the director, producer and the choated assemblage of the theatrical origination that won him this apotheosis, he also asseverated his ignis fatuus for his amaranthine conjunction with the theatre as an eidolon. Little did he apperceive that an empyrean shooting star was about to consummate this tiny importunity.
Thespis was anointed with the appanage of being eternally present during any histrionic exercise; however since he had not been very unambiguous while wishing during the coincidental occurrence of the meteoric sight in the sky, Thespis was relegated to playing the mountebank, the sole defense for catastrophic occurrences during performances.
For over two thousand years Thespis enjoyed his flights from stage to stage, movie to movie and soap to soap (never once slipping himself in the lathery by products of the last) weaving a web of his magic, showering on the world a treasure cove of sorts of histrionics, an art form revered as much as poetry or music.
And so in his travels across the terrene, he chanced upon a country that lived by the whole gamut of drama, be it on celluloid or a box that strangely transmitted images that everybody called the television. He presumed it must be a modern day kaleidoscope of sorts. While the movie fever was only slightly more pronounced than the rest of the world he was amused by the frenzy that this box and its contents created among the viewers. And in his tour of the magical world of fancy clothes jewellery and high decibel drama, he came upon a show that seemed marginally unique. For one, the cast wore reasonably sensible clothes and spoke seemingly normal lines. They called themselves Dill Mill Gayye or loosely translated, The Hearts Have Met. Liking what he saw, he decided to stay and bless the show with his attendance. So his spritely work began with shenanigans causing bloopers and errors.
This one time however Thespis was bemused to observe that in addition to his spectral presence causing minor cataclysms on the sets like the lead actress getting a fat lip while a scene was being shot, he was also greatly manipulating the recital of the said actress. Going by the name of Shilpa Anand, her character Ridhima, already a beloved among the young, was scaling new acmes of histrionic brilliance under his ethereal aura. A 2000 year old reputation of being responsible for all things that go wrong with a show, Thespis could not bear the thought of something actually going well because of his influence. So he sought to sabotage Shilpa.
He twisted the script around from the playful light moments of banter between Armaan, played by Karan, and Ridhima to those of intense emotion, but Shilpa was one up over him by using her strident, staccato voice in ways inconceivable to stir the hearts of millions. He shifted focus from drama to romance to make the going cumbersome for her, but with sparkling appended smiles and the lowering of her ersatz long lashes she made her viewers' blush, shy and simper with her. Hoping that a shift into melancholy and estrangement would leave her flummoxed, he played around with the script once more, but Shilpa played her trump card yet again and flared her nares at the right moment, gnashed choppers to distraction and gazed vapidly into the cosmos with the exquisiteness that befitted one disconsolate.
Exhausted, but not prepared to surrender to the revelatory theatrics of this lady, Thespis chanced upon the perfect sabotage. Very few actors worth their salt can perform a drunken scene to perfection and lo behold Shilpa's prowess was tested once again under the inebriation of a mild preparation of marijuana made from young leaves and stems of the Indian hemp plant, Cannabis sativa, drunk with milk or water as a fermented brew or smoked for its hallucinogenic effects. Had Thespis not been long dead, I would have said this was the last nail in his coffin, for she delivered her biggest winner yet. A unique approach to drunkenness, she stumped all with her childlike portrayal. She reached out to her aficionados with a message that proclaimed that intoxication is not always about losing control and inhibition, it is sometimes also about embracing the little child in you, it is about using your mouth as a sprinkler system, it is about cantillating with no cares about the tune, it is about impossible comestibles, it is about horse rides, it is about fears of drowning, it is about secrets muttered…all with the innocence and affectations of a five year old child using the arrantness of one's voice to best effect. Proving indeed the hallucinogenic properties of the inebriant, Shilpa brought alive in the minds of her zealots the image of a kvetchy child on a sugar high!
Heartbroken and defeated, last heard, Thespis was knocking on God's hallowed portal, begging to be sui juri from this curse-like wish of his, abandoning his favorite world of theatrics, for one of quiet retirement and the resignation that some things are better left untampered with.
Naagin 7
Cricket
