Curtain-Raiser

Slight cobwebs housed same spiders in the folds of once rich velvet maroon curtains. When the spotlight hit on the central character, while at rehearsals, an extra could see the faint lines of the web. Webs which would make him dream of roadways, that someday perhaps he too could be at the centrestage, rather than wait at the wings. It was an old stage, once regal in its stature, now slowly on its way to a demise. Staging a show here was a risk, and the young group Dramartists did.

Mehzebeen was playing the lead. More than two months of practice had gone into it, and each team member gave their faithful best. Having gained the sponsorship from a renowned company, they could rely on the economics of rehearsing and putting up a show. The only concern with the director, Sameer Anand, was his audience. He was uncertain if this stage could gather any. The publicity was of course being taken care by the leading dailies and it was an adaptation of The Doll's House. Rumour was, it had a twist. And it had contemporary multilingual dialogues. 

As the curtains were pulled, for the first show, there were no cobwebs. The opening day, surprisingly to the team, saw a full house. The hands at the wings were busy clapping. Mehzebeen Alam outperformed herself, the music was poignant and powerful and it was sheer poetry set to fire. That night as she removed the make-up she could not let go of a face on the first row, after the play was over and the entire cast had come under lights. It was a face which returned with the same bang as it had the first time. She did not know where she knew him from. 

She forced herself out of his face with the help of tranquilizers. Adamantly, he found his place in her dreams. As he filled her up, all pain seemed to slip away, words were exchanged in silence. There was an afterglow on Mehzebeen's face the next morning. She tried recalling from childhood memories if she knew anything about him; called friends, and friends of friends, to no respite. It was a pacifying disturbance. The next show was a back to back over the weekend. Throughout the rehearsals, he was there, in appearances, sudden reappearances and saddening disappearances. 

The weekend came. All lights were focussed on Mehzebeen. The curtains opened. She began play-acting, full attention on her act. Till she realized that the entire gallery was full of his face. He sat on each seat. She dropped her first line. And the next.

The face refused to fade. 

It was a curtain-raiser to an agonizing battle which Mehzebeen knew would remain with her even after the show was over. Till life was over.