The author of this blog stopped writing here long time back. The posts published here embarrass her now. And hence, there is very little chance that she is going to write here again.

This blog is hence declared to be in a state of COMA.

My first stage mess


We had gone for an after-dinner stroll that night. As it always was, the after-dinner family walks meant lots of gup-shup between mom and dad, and ice cream for us, the kids. Not that we didn't indulge in the gup-shup, but obviously, it was the ice cream that mattered more.
As we were walking our way back home, dad came up with an idea, a decision rather. And to my displeasure, mom was more than just willing to go for it. Rather, to make me go for it.
"We have a function coming up in our office. Children of staff members will be participating in the show, singing, dancing etc. I was thinking, why not have Sugandha take part in it?", dad announced the disastrous suggestion. 
"NO!", I erupted. Thank god I overheard him.
"Why no? Yes, it's a good idea. It's always good to have such exposure to help build your self confidence. So, you'll be singing there." Mom declared. 
The "thank god!" went wasted, perhaps.


My jaw dropped down and finishing the ice cream now seemed like a burden to me. And my kid bro and sis, were only giggling naughtily, relishing their ice cream. And my expressions.


It sounded like a terrible idea to me. Dad's office, the Chandini Chowk branch of SBI, then. A place that I had never really 'liked'.  And there, I was going to, guess what,  sing!! How old was I? 6th standard I guess. All my stage experience in school came a little later, from 7th standard onwards. Till then, I had been only into group singing. The only solos were speeches, recitations etc, but unfortunately, that wasn't what I was supposed to do this time.



When it was time to select the song I was to "perform" there, I thought I should sing the song that our western music troupe had performed recently, at the school annual function. 
Infact, in that performance, I hadn't sung. Rather, I had played a "kid Casio"(SA-11, I remember). It was a choir actually. And to escape wearing the terrible magenta satin 'coats' that the vocalists were supposed to wear, I had told our sir that I'd rather play the little casio along with the so many other students, than sing. He suggested otherwise, but I was determined. To not wear that freaking satin shimmering magenta. Black, the color for the instrumentalists, looked still better though. 


Ah I digressed too much. Anyway, so I knew the annual function song well enough as initially, in the rehearsals, I was also singing, but as explained, had instead decided to be one of many instrumentalists in it, later.
So it was done, THE song was going to be THE song, at dad's office function. Freaky.


It was the D-day. It was not a huge gathering, but not a small one either. Dad's colleagues, their kids and family were all around. Uninteresting, was the word. As my name was called, I went up there on the stage. Dad tried a lot to make me comfortable, coming up on the stage again and again asking if I need water or anything. But nothing could shoo away my nervousness, that I was trying hard to hide. Some  important officers sat in the front rows. They were the special guests.........B.O.R.I.N.G !!!


My phobia has been with smaller crowds/audiences. I find it easier to perform in front of a bigger crowd than a smaller one, 'coz you don't see anyone staring right into your face, when there's a huge audience sitting in the front unlike a smaller gathering, where you can "feel the attention" much more prominently.


I began singing on a shaky note. Spelled nervousness. Clearly. The voice became a little firmer after that, but when it was time to raise the pitch higher, the chorus part, my voice broke. Badly.


Guess what did I do then? I- CRIED! Right there on the stage! In front of an audience. Dad's efforts to make me comfortable had failed miserably. And I started crying there on the stage. Everything was halted, just like my song. First the breaking away of the voice and then, my crying. What could be more embarrassing than that!


I stood there clueless. It didn't occur to me to move down the stage, perhaps that'd have been even more loser-like. But I didn't do anything else either. I just stood. And cried. The mic in my hand, ON or not I don't remember, but I CRIED goddamit! Huh!
Alright now, I just got no other pic. DUH :-/
Some minutes later, the front row officers/chief guests/whoever they were (as if I cared), started encouraging a little bit to start again. They clapped (sounds like a scene straight out of a kids' movie, doesn't it? Duh!) and started saying, "gaao beta..gaao..aage gaao....koi baat nahi..bohot achcha gaa rahe ho..." etc. I thought, okay. I can't just keep standing here. In order to get over with it, I've to GET OVER WITH IT! Sing it, do it and hence get the hell outta here. So I started again and completed the freaking song this time. The damned portion was still a bit strained, but okay. It didn't matter. The objective was to get done and get over. QUICK.


There was some applause, people clapped. Blah blah...come on, it wasn't 'coz I had done anything great. But isn't that what the custom is? Everything done on the stage has to be clapped for, which is gentle-man/woman-ly enough. So there was no reason the people there won't clap for me too. Even though I'd been pathetic. And then, I was just a kid yaar. Uncles, and aunties came up later. As they always do, to encourage the little kid (that's me, silly), sing (false) praises of my hellish performance and make dad 'happy and proud' (false again), "bohot achcha gaati hai bitiya".


"Arrey uncle, jhoot to mat bolo. Yahan mera kabada ho gaya aur aap kehte ho achcha gaati hai!...huh!!!", I wish I could tell them this. Sad, kids can't speak on such occasions.


There's no "moral of the story" here. Am not gonna preach, "we should never lose hope... never get disheartened....get up after every fall...not let the failures let you down...." etc etc...bullshit. It was a horrible experience. Nothing more than that. And my first stage mess. Total mess. 
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3 comments:

Tanay November 13, 2010 at 3:47 PM  

Poor Sugandha.
I wish I were there... I see a cute little girl trying to sing and then crying out miserably... it would be both very funny and a bit sad for me.. this post stirs up emotions :)

Vini December 9, 2010 at 2:16 AM  

aww, the li'l sugandha crying on the stage with the mic is really personified well :D ..
The whole 'scene' is flashing across my eyes again n again even though, as obv, i wasn't a part of it in real :->

Vini December 9, 2010 at 2:38 AM  

oops!!I guess i've written 'personified' in my previous comment if i'm not mistaken[again ;)]..it should be 'picturised'* well..:))

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