The script said the superintendent broke Tony's legs. He took a big hammer and smashed both his knees because he tried to run away from the shelter. Because he didn't want to be anywhere but the platform.
I broke Tony's legs. I broke his legs in every rehearsal, repeatedly for ten days, ever since I was told to fill up for Rahil who left the play because of his knee surgery.
I was trying hard. Trying hard to be a good actor. To be a good woman actor who can play the boy who plays the superintendent, who breaks Tony's legs. I was trying so hard to have a good image in front of people who know me and were going to watch me. Too caught up in my worry of being revealed as an actor. Too caught up in issues of my time on stage, my dialogues, my monologues, my spot light, my body, my voice, my new look. I was trying hard to be my nameless character. And got so caught up in the act that I broke Tony's legs again and again, without the slightest hesitation.
Why would I hesitate?
On stage, in the glamour of fancy lights and a full auditorium, I performed the scene again. Was patted on my back for pulling it off, for not fudging lines, for having evolved as an actor, for having cracked it. I had cracked it by breaking Tony's legs - a story I knew was real.
I don't know what happened the last time I performed. In spite of its familiarity, the goriness of the image hasn't left me. I don't know what I saw that day.
I just know that that day on stage, I broke Tony's legs. Muntizer cried uncontrollably. Priya laughed uncontrollably.
I broke Tony's legs. I broke his legs in every rehearsal, repeatedly for ten days, ever since I was told to fill up for Rahil who left the play because of his knee surgery.
I was trying hard. Trying hard to be a good actor. To be a good woman actor who can play the boy who plays the superintendent, who breaks Tony's legs. I was trying so hard to have a good image in front of people who know me and were going to watch me. Too caught up in my worry of being revealed as an actor. Too caught up in issues of my time on stage, my dialogues, my monologues, my spot light, my body, my voice, my new look. I was trying hard to be my nameless character. And got so caught up in the act that I broke Tony's legs again and again, without the slightest hesitation.
Why would I hesitate?
On stage, in the glamour of fancy lights and a full auditorium, I performed the scene again. Was patted on my back for pulling it off, for not fudging lines, for having evolved as an actor, for having cracked it. I had cracked it by breaking Tony's legs - a story I knew was real.
I don't know what happened the last time I performed. In spite of its familiarity, the goriness of the image hasn't left me. I don't know what I saw that day.
I just know that that day on stage, I broke Tony's legs. Muntizer cried uncontrollably. Priya laughed uncontrollably.
2 comments:
And people saw you tell Tony's story with so much conviction that they went back thinking about it. You brought the story alive because you were striving to act well.
Good job, Tilpu! Hopefully all of us who watched you tell the story will act out our roles as convincingly.
Did Tony cry again and again and again?
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