The first thing I thought of when I woke up in the morning: Sri Sai Krupa Old Age Home and Orphanage, here we come.

I ate breakfast, wrote on the blog about the previous evening’s show and then got ready for the next show immediately afterwards. Why so soon? Well, because we were to leave for the Home by 1:30 pm, finish the show by 3 pm, and then be back home by 5 pm. This show wasn’t in the evening like the others; it was in the afternoon – which I was happy about. The reason? As much as I’d hate to say it – we had reached the ultimate saturation point. We were tired.

As I had discussed with Megha – had we only performed two shows, we would have ceased the production process feeling incomplete and unsure. Had we worked hard enough? Had we the capability of doing another show after all that continuous practice? After two shows, we did have a bit of energy left in us. Knowing that and not doing something more for the production would have left us feeling guilty of ‘taking it too easy.’

In hindsight, doing three shows was a good decision. It completed the process up completely, because it drained out all of our energy.  Performing the play for the third time got repetitive, it got draggy. We had reached the ultimate. And so of course, we came home feeling tired but accomplished. Because we knew we had gave it our all. Our all.

We left in time, all piled on top of each other (due to slight lack of space) in my car. My mother and Meera Aunty came along with the nine of us. We reached the orphanage in an hour, and began the play quickly. The children and senior citizens sat in front of us and listened attentively. When it was over, they clapped and cheered loudly for us. As we mingled with them, several children invited us to come again. The directors of the Home told us that despite the language barrier, the children and senior citizens had appreciated the play a lot – mostly the colours, songs and dances. We bid them farewell as they waved goodbye to us and then we journeyed back home.

The trip added another feather to our cap – three shows. Three entire shows. It was a lot that was accomplished. We met so many different people on this journey. It was truly an experience. In the future I hope to use the knowledge I have gained on this journey to become successful in whatever I choose to do. We met show many kinds of people and had to deal with all sorts of personalities. But the entity that outshines all this is the support given to us by each parent of the crew. They were encouraging and were open to all our requests and ideas. They gave us all we asked for (which wasn’t much materialistically but was more of abstract entities such as time, attendance and support to their children).

I sent over 160 emails (I counted) in total to the cast and crew of You Don’t Always Need Magic which included schedules, voice recordings of songs, videos of dance choreography, emails addressing important details, lyrics, dialogues, volunteering, and most importantly – thank yous. The messages of the parents showering Isha and I with kind words and blessings make my day. I am blessed to be a part of such a community where hard work never goes unnoticed. I believe that every hour that we spent making the play better and better and making sure that there was no communication gap between parents and us- writing emails, visiting their homes, calling them on the phone – was worth it. I dream of becoming an entrepreneur. Through the play I have learnt to love deadlines instead of fearing them, I have learnt to manage stress and pressure and direct them towards productivity instead of crumpling under them. I have learnt to make learning fun, make teaching fun, make something deary and repetitive bearable not just for me, but for others. I have learnt to importance of every minute, every day. And the success Isha and I achieved is clear in the fact that the children loved the practices. The footage that I have on my camera of all of us having a blast in practice proves it. When I had to cancel practices at the last minute to visit orphanages or costume shops, they conveyed to us disappointment. We felt terrible cancelling practices too – children like Ganeev would cancel classes, outings, parties and lunch/dinner plans  to be present at practice. We will always be grateful for that.

An important thing that I have learned is that there are so many types of people in the world – with different lives, different stories to tell- and so, different personalities to show and attitudes to hold. And not everybody will appreciate hard work. It takes time to win someone’s trust, respect and confidence. It takes time to win someone’s support. It takes time to get someone to take you seriously. And it always will take time. The key to success is consistency. One can’t change one’s attitude, style of work or degree of effort based on the type of situation or attitude of someone towards him/her. Consistency is so important. If you work the same way with the same effort without favor or fear, you will always come out on the other end, successful.

Thank you to everybody for teaching my life lessons I am sure never to forget. Thank you for exposing to sides of life I probably wasn’t going to be exposed to for a long time. Thank you for helping me mature as a person. Thank you for teaching me how to control my feelings and keep my ideas and feelings balanced and unbiased. Thank you for teaching me how to keep my imagination free and uninfluenced by obstructive words like ‘impossible’, ‘impractical’ and ‘unfeasible’.

You Don’t Always Need Magic, thank you.

Another very, very important day for us.

SOS Village.

50 years. 133 countries. 22 states of India. Nation – wide. World wide. Huge.

Us.

3 years, 1 country. 1 state of India. Bangalore -wide. Yeah. Bangalore – wide.

But it’s the best and the most wonderful theatre group. It’s got to be.

SOS Village prides itself on being a family. And so do we.

We held practice from 10:30am to 1pm in the clubhouse. We went over details of the play, practiced sounds, revised dialogues, dances, tunes. We made the play better and better and better until we were all exhausted and tired and hungry. But confident and prepared and feeling ready to take on the world.

While the rest of the crew broke for lunch and rest, Isha and I finished the collection of costumes and props for the evening show. Immediately after lunch we met again to do prop checking and email sending tasks.

The entire crew gathered at my humble abode at 4pm. We all got into the cars (Sharvi’s parents’ car, Rinku Aunty’s car, our car) and reached at around 5:30pm. We got into the place – it’s a really nice place- and got one of the rooms unlocked for our make-up. We changed the stage set-up from what we had discussed when we had visited a few days ago because there was a risk of it raining (side note: it didn’t) and set up the trees/bushes up on chairs. The backstage was made of two trees and needless to say it was the cutest stage ever. The show started at around 6:30pm.

It was a great play. It beat the quality of the previous one by about a mile. The kids knew what to expect, The audience laughed at all the appropriate times. It was a perfect stage. The lighting could have been better but the energy of the kids definitely lit up the lacking.

There were about 100 children seated on the mats in front of us. They were very attentive and listened to the rapturous acting of our children. They laughed at all the right parts, too. That’s the most satisfying thing I have experienced. The little jokes you make onstage during dramas aren’t usually on-the-spot. They are rehearsed and practiced until (as directors and actors), you no longer laugh at them. They become draggy and you begin to question if the joke is actually that funny. But all such suspicions are wiped away completely when, onstage, you hear laughter on saying those lines.

It happens all of a sudden. Backstage, even onstage, as you recite a humorous dialogue or perform a funny action or scene, you don’t expect anything to come out of it. It’s like a wave; a small part of the audience begins to giggle, and before you know it, the entire crowd erupts in laughter which echoes off the walls. It comes onto you unexpectedly and you drown in it – it shakes you. You are surprised and then you struggle to remember your next dialogue or action. But you feel like a superhero when you finish the scene and come backstage grinning like you’ve conquered the world.

When the play ended and we thanked them for being so wonderful, they cheered loudly and clapped and whistled and we were on top of the world. Several children came up to us and told us that they appreciated the play very much.

The director of the activities, Mr Vishwanath, expressed his gratitude as we wrapped up. The children’s smiling faces surrounded us as we got ready to leave. We had wanted to see Ms. Naglaxmi, the Head of Visitors Department at SOS Village, whom we had met first when we had come. She was very kind and supportive of our idea of doing it in SOS Village. However, she couldn’t make it to the show.

The car ride back was fun. We sang and  joked the entire way back home. Then, since we had reached home first, before the other adults, we roamed around the apartment having more fun in our bizarre costumes and make-up.

And we all fell asleep feeling satisfied with this very meaningful and productive day.

Ah, the experiences. These are the experiences that will last us a lifetime.

I feel like like ending this post saying something full of gratitude. I know two words that may do the trick. And I am putting all my feelings and emotion into those two words. I mean them. And they’re addressed to no one in particular. They are to everyone in this world, for being so, so … I don’t know. For being there.

Thank you.

Today was it.

It was it.

Even the knowledge of the fact that there were two more shows left for us to perform in front of separate audiences couldn’t deter us from thinking that this was it.

Isha and I met at 11am, and went over all our lists once. We checked and rechecked every detail and then parted at around 1pm for lunch. After eating lunch and making some important phone calls I rested a bit to be fresh for the evening show. I packed all the costumes, props and electronics in separate bags and got the thermocol trees and bushes (they were giant, by the way) put into the car safely. I then took a refreshing shower. At 3:45 pm Isha, my mother and I left for the Asha Home for the Destitute to stick the banner onto the wall and set the trees/bushes and keyboard up on the with the chairs and tables.

When we reached at 4:30 pm there was lots of mumbling and excitement among the ladies of the Destitute Home. Several of them came up to us to ask what was going to happen. We told them about the drama, the singing and the dancing which was to commence at 7pm. A few of the ladies who had met us the previous week (when we had come to look at the place to decide the feasibility of the performance in the building) shook our hands and lovingly patted our heads. Several of them even offered to help us shift the props around. One of my favorite ladies there, Dhannima, slowly walked out of her room after hearing the hubbub  and asked us, “What are you here for?” to which we replied, “We are here to show you all a play. It is going to be performed by children…” Her mouth twisted in thought and then she tentatively asked us, “Were you those girls who had come last week?” At this, our smiles grew wider and we stated, “Yes, we are those girls.” She smiled back and said with a twinkle in her eye, “You will entertain us. Ah, entertainment is wonderful!”

The helpful lady in charge of the place, Sister Leena, helped us organize the speaker system and bring the chairs down from the attic of the place. Needless to say, we were very dusty and filthy by the time the job was over! We then left at around 5 pm, waving goodbye to everyone.

By 4:30pm the make-up of all the other children  had started in the creche room. We reached home at 5:30, changed into our costumes and then reached the creche to have our make-up done. The creche was resounding with the excited voices of all our children and the laughs and call of the mothers – Shaila Aunty, Kusum Aunty and Rinku Aunty – who had very graciously come down to do the make-up of the children. I was greeted by shouts of, “Riya, look at me! I look fantastic!” and “Riya didi, do we look pretty?” and even, “I look terrible, don’t I?” With both words of praise and of reassurance, I too sat down to get my make-up done.

By 6:15 we were all done. The other children left for the Home while Rashi, the pianist, Isha and I bought fruits from a nearby shop to give to the Home as a gift. That was great fun. Isha, dressed in pink and with lots of make-up, and I, dressed as the evil, wicked old witch, complete with terrifying purplish black makeup and a hat and cloak, pranced around the shop, bewitching pomegranates, dramatically reciting dialogues and singing country songs at the top of our lungs. Looks of disapproval at us were evident, but to our surprise several people approved of the din we were making in the otherwise solemn shop and laughed along with us. Two or three mothers encouraged their small children to join us! It was an experience in itself. The simplicity of the fun we were having in the fruit shop made me find so much more meaning in the quote by William Butler Yeats, “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t yet met.”

We reached Asha Home for the Destitute by 7pm. The ladies in the place sat quietly in the central courtyard of the place while the final arrangements were made. The children backstage were so nervous and excited. Parents had come along with them to watch. We couldn’t wait!

Being a simple (but beautifully maintained) home, excessive and professional equipment as a theatre would normally have was non-existent. Yet the play went wonderfully well and I was extremely proud of the children. It went smoothly. At times, if a character would slip or miss a beat, the play would carry on as if nothing had happened. The silence of the atmosphere of the Home, on this evening, was broken with the laughs and voices of 11 energetic children and the notes of instruments played by them. During the play, we would hear the occasional giggles and laughs of the 23 ladies seated in the audience as the children laughed, sang, danced and fell over (don’t worry, it was all a part of the script). It lifted our hearts so much. We hardly gave heed to the occasional insects (that we are terrified of)  that alighted onto our stage, too, because all we saw was the grins on care worn faces and heard the laughter rippling through the still air.

Then as the roll call and vote of thanks came to a close and silence ensued for a second in the building, Sister Leena got up from her place and called out, “And thank you to this group of children for doing this for us. It was a very good play. God bless you all.” It was followed by a thundering round of applause from the entire audience and the high fives and hugs of the 11 children on stage who managed to doing something beautiful for these sweet souls.

I will not be able to forget one lady who came out of the building and went to stand by the gate, waving goodbye to all the children and parents. When I approached her, she grasped my left hand with both of hers and whispered, “Thank you, thank you.”

The past two weeks have been oh, so hectic. But I can’t complain. I’m not, in fact. I love it. The rush, the thrill, the joy. The ups and downs of the day. It’s all a part of the journey in creating a piece of work, a show, a smile on a face. Ah, the play.

We all refer to it as The Play. We always have had.  For every play RIV Productions has come up with and put together for the world to see, it has always been ‘The Play’. Because it is THE  major thing, entity, whatever you want to call it, that dominates in our lives when the production gets rolling. When my fellow director (Isha) and I meet, still half asleep,  in the mornings, ready to work, armed with The Play Book, the camera, a water bottle, and a laptop; when the actors come into the room at exactly 2 in the afternoon, energetic and ready to start practice for the day; when the sun dips below the horizon as the traffic on the streets becomes more and more noisy and the cool breeze rushes through our open window and through our hair as we discuss and note and sing and choreograph; ah, we feel the stress. We feel the pressure. But we also feel the excitement. The anticipation. The pride. Then, when we wrap after the day – often, after a very long day – we close our eyes and see the smiles of the faces of those children who have less things to smile about, those children who have no parents to call their own, but those children who were lucky enough to find a place they now can call home. We are doing this for them. And we know it will be an experience of a lifetime.

On Thursday morning, Isha and I met up at 10am and got down to work immediately. The first show of the play was tomorrow. Tomorrow. So, of course, the prevalence of excitement in our work meeting was obvious. We had a few things left to do- rechecking the props and costumes, making a banner with the name of the play – ‘You Don’t Always Need Magic’on it, and sending a couple of reminders and important emails to the wonderfully supportive parents of our child actors.

By 1:15, we had almost finished the banner – which looked absolutely brilliant, by the way – and we broke for a 15-minute lunch. We made the finishing touches on the banner and then went to the clubhouse for practice at 2pm. We had scheduled a full play practice (without instruments) on that day.  A kind volunteer – Meera Aunty- also attended the practice because she had wanted to help us with the lights. The practice went on for an hour. I was extra skeptical in this practice and made sure that not a tiny detail of the script, song or dance was missed in the run-through. I noticed the the little 8 year olds – Siri, Sharvi, Meghan and Naisha- did extremely well. You know that emotion -it must be of immense pride- that from time to time swells in your chest? It’s such a motherly feeling – and it always manages to dominate all the emotions I experience in the whole day. It’s the best feeling ever. (There, I said it.) That’s what I felt when I saw the practice of Scene 2. It was flawless. They danced and sung and narrated dialogues with such gusto that I couldn’t help but marvel at it.

I love seeing the effort that we put into training the children, the hours that we tell them to say the line this way, then that way, and the practices we spend in dancing with them- dancing and dancing- until they get the steps right… all lead up to this. The visions we had in 2013, while writing the script, penning down the lyrics of the original songs, video taping the dance steps and complex choreography from the shaky camera of a phone…it all comes alive in front of us. Our script comes alive. It’s such a beautiful thing.

We then worked with Ganeev and Megha – who have become nothing short of dear siblings to me – for about an hour. Isha and I then returned home to work some more- transferring audio files and organizing the recorded instruments (the music was all original, remember?) and sending emails.

We then rested a bit, and then resumed work at 6:45pm. The biggest practice to date – the parents’ meeting- was scheduled in fifteen minutes. We had trouble transporting the ginormous keyboard, laptop and  all the smaller (but heavy) props to the clubhouse in the torrential rain that had begun some time ago but we made it without causing damage. The parents – with all our little actors – poured into the practice room at around 7:15pm. It was exciting. For some time there was the hustle in and out of the room as the people, instruments, speakers, chairs and tables went in and out of the room. We started the meeting (attended by all the 25 people we called – something we very happy about) and discussed technicalities. We then rehearsed the play in front of the parents. Note that my own parents were unaware of the story-line before this! Truely, it was entirely the kids’ effort alone that went into the play.

And this fact made the parents’ great response a thousand times more satisfactory! They loved it. They told me that they could see the huge effort that each child put into their parts and they loved the message of the story- and that is what every director would love to hear, take it from me. All 11 of us were on top of the world after the rehearsal.

We all retired to bed after that. It had been a long day – and the first show in Asha Home For the Destitute was tomorrow!  We couldn’t wait.