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Amritranjan’s drama. Packed auditorium. Scenes enacted on stage
First scene : The only son of the family has embraced his mother giving her the news of getting a job. Wiping tears of joy with the end of her dress the mother kissed and caressed him. The father standing nearby is sharing the joy equally with a broad smile.
Second scene : The boy fall in love. Dreaming of building a home with his eyes locked at his lover.
Third scene : The house is agog with relatives. The boy is repeatedly acknowledging congratulatory and goodwill messages taking out his mobile handset every time. The boy has become a father.
Fourth scene : The son of boy prepares to go to school. He has put on school uniforms and is bidding goodbye to his grandparents while clutching a finger of his father. Mother follows carrying a tiffin box and water bottle.
Fifth scene : The son of the boy becomes an engineer. His grandparents have flooded him with kisses. Standing near, his parents are laughing.
Sixth scene : The house is bursting with activity. Marriage ceremony of the son of the boy. The atmosphere is filled with sound of ululation and hymns.
The curtain falls. Spectators are in the waiting… something would perhaps happen in the next scene. Maybe the eyes of spectators would be moistened, else the auditorium would reverberate with wave after wave of peals of laughter; maybe they would cringe in fright.
The spectators continued to wait …for the seventh scene
But the lights inside were switched on to everyone’s surprise. Amritranjan walked to the front of the stage holding the mike in his hands – ‘What happened to you people? The drama has ended. Please vacate your seats for the next show.
Drama lovers turn vociferous outside the auditorium.
‘What was it? Drama or some child’s play?’
‘Amritranjan has lost his mind.’
‘Waste of time.’
‘I even brought along my sweetheart bragging so much about Amritranjan and his drama. I am so ashamed. It would have been better had we sat together in a restaurant sipping some steaming coffee.’
‘I continued to watch each and every scene like a damn fool as if something would happen right now. But damn it. Nothing happened. No death, no accident, no intrigue. Not even separation of pangs of staying separated. Everything is good – like you say in the words of chemistry NTP – Normal Temperature and Pressure. If everything goes on so smoothly, how can it be called a drama?
‘I thought, the girl loved by the boy would not be in the choice of his parents or the son of the boy would be sent to jail in a fake case of corruption. At least, he could have wrapped up the drama with a scene of the old parents being shifted to an old-age home bag and baggage as they are hurt for not getting proper care from their son and daughter-in-law. Damn! Perhaps the time has come that we would need to teach him how to write a drama.
Amritranjan silently waiting at the gate, continued to listen to each and every comment.
At the end of all expert criticism remarks the clowns of life-drama left for their respective abodes. Dramatist Amritranjan continued to look at them waiting at the gate of the auditorium with a frown on his lips.
Did you get it? The message that dramatist Amritranjan conveyed?
No no. don’t wait for my pen. I have kept it hazy keeping the request of Pinkujit. (I would tell his stories sometimes). Try to understand removing the mist. Or give this damn story-teller a solid dressing down. Choice is yours!!’
I have only one worry though – only if the editor considers the story to be fit for publication...
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