A Shakespearean Evening

Hardpressed as I was to write something for the school magazine, one evening I sat with a large cup of coffee trying to stimulate whatever little creativity I have. The next day was the last date for submission of articles. As I sat chewing my pen a lot of other concerns demanded my attention. The cook had not turned up yet. What to cook in case she did not come, whether to cook at all or order food from outside. I wished I knew some magic so that I quickly compose some story.

As I sat racking my brain for an idea, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there was this elderly man wearing outlandish clothes, with a stick in his hand. The man smiled and said "I am your Uncle Prospero coming straight from the enchanted island. I thought I might just use my magic to help you compose something for your magazine." "Wow, that's great", I said. "Just come in and make yourself feel at home. Would you like some coffee? "No thanks, I'll get down to work straight away. Let me set Caliban to work out a rough draft for you." "No way uncle", I screamed. The monster would spoil everything." "Relax my dear, I'll have Ariel supervise his work", he assured. With one stroke of Mr Prospero's magic wand appeared the huge ugly monster Caliban. Thankfully he disappeared after taking orders from Prospero. After Caliban left I found Prospero engaged in a discussion with Ariel. After a while Ariel too disappeared.

I entered the kitchen to rustle up something for dinner. As I was busy kneading the dough a very sweet girly voice called out 'didi'. I turned around and saw an exquisitely beautiful girl in my kitchen. She quickly introduced himself as Miranda. "I was missing dad very much, so I thought I would drop in." She paused a little and then asked hesitantly "Didi can we go to the CCD across your house? I have heard they make excellent sizzling brownies. I want to try it." Given the kind of foodie I am, I readily agreed. Soon we were sitting lazily at CCD enjoying our grilled chicken sandwich and sizzling brownie. After her initial euphoria was over she really missed Ferdinand. Her moist eyes did not escape my attention. To cheer her up I suggested that I would take her shopping at South City the next evening and may be even catch a movie together. We were happily engrossed in our conversation that ranged from the latest fashion trends to the latest models of mobiles and laptops, when we were interrupted by a seductive female voice calling out my name.

I turned around and found a breathtakingly beautiful woman dressed in Egyptian finery."Cleopatra?" the name escaped my mouth spontaneously. She nodded her head in agreement. "Yes I am Cleopatra, the Queen of Egypt. I heard that you are trying to write something for your magazine. Why don't you write a biographical piece on me? I am undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in the world. I make men go weak in their knees. I made two of the most powerful men in the world dance to my tune. But I feel I have been overshadowed by the men in Shakespeare's play. Trust me, my life has enough gossip and glamour that no Page 3 can give you. Write about me. It will make your story an interesting read.

Assuring her that I would keep her in mind I got up. Coming out of CCD I headed for Spencers to pick up some grocery. Meanwhile Miranda had taken her leave promising to come back the next evening. As I moved up and down Spencers picking up my stuff, I came across two lovely ladies engaged in a row with two handsome young men. Curiosity got the better of me and I inched closer to find out what the matter was. How strange! As soon as they spotted me, all four of them started coming straight towards me. Sensing trouble I made an attempt to escape, but it was in vain. "What do you want from me? I asked sheepishly. One of the two men came forward. "Hi, I am Bassanio and this is my friend Antonio. We want you to write exclusively about our friendship. No racial theme, nothing at all. Ours is no doubt the most exemplary friendship in the world."

"No way", protested the feisty young girl. "Mine and Rosalind's is the strongest friendship the world has seen. More than cousins, we are best of friends. Who says no two women can be friends? I had forsaken all the comforts and luxuries of palace life, all for her. Write about us." "This is nothing my dear", Bassanio interrupted. " This young man you see here had even pledged a pound of flesh from his body for my sake. Can a woman even imagine doing such a thing?" A little subdued, Celia tried to fight nonetheless. "Why, didn't I brave it out in the forest?" "Well, that is certainly no match for me sweet lady", I heard the reticent Antonio speak. Rosalind pulled Celia's hand and whispered "Come cousin, let's not fight. I know she will write about us. She is a woman after all."

As I made an attempt to go I was pulled aside by Bassanio. "Well", he began, "when you write about us, please do not forget to mention my beautiful and intelligent wife Portia. Actually we had a fight two days back and since then she has stopped talking to me. She is not even taking my calls. I badly need to lift her mood. Hope you understand." " Yes, I do." I smiled in understanding and made a dash for the billing counter. Oh, what a relief! Never in my life had I thought that Shakespeare's characters would barge into my life like this. Is it all or are there more to follow, I wondered.

I got the biggest shock of my life as I entered my building. A heavily embellished huge golden chariot with 'captives bound to chariot wheels' stood parked in our garage. One of the caretakers came running. "Boudi an eccentric man dressed as a king had come to meet you. As I tried to stop him at the gate he drew forth a big and ominous looking sword and threatened to behead me. Boudi be careful, he's coming." I turned back and found the mighty Julius Caesar bowing his head in courtsey. "Madam I come from far off Rome with a small request. Why don't you write a story on me, I mean my military campaigns? The great bard had killed me too early in his play. He had barely described my martial exploits that he moved on to the conspiracy and after I am killed, it is more of Antony's play than mine. Madam I want you to write exclusively about me. Today's children hardly read history books, so they know very little about me." "I will surely try to do my bit, but please remove your chariot from here. The other flat owners will raise objection." Saying this I moved towards the elevator.

In the elevator I met an old man looking lost and lonely. Don't know why my heart went out to him. "Excuse me" I said "are you looking for someone?" "Yes I have come looking for a lady called Piyali". I was baffled. "Well, I am Piyali. Tell me what can I do for you uncle." The man looked a little relaxed now. "I am King Lear, the hapless father who had been driven out by his daughters. I know you all call me a fool and make fun of me. The Bard has written an entire play based on my misjudgment and the consequences I suffered. Today I have come to speak to you on behalf of all the parents who are thrown out of their homes by their children. Do they know what it feels like when the children we bring up with so much of care and affection show us the door? Madam, this issue needs to be addressed. You should write about this in your magazine and sensitize young children. After all, they are your future." "I would definitely try my best", I promised.

For the first time in the evening I felt I found something worth writing about. With King Lear taking my leave, I headed towards my flat wondering who could be the next visitor. I did not have to think for long, for as I approached my flat I saw an exceptionally dark man looking out through the window. The complexion was a hint enough for me to understand that it was Othello. In fact I was so confident that I called out to him as Mr Othello. My voice stirred him. He wished me good evening. "I come with a humble request. Madam, you know everything about my life. You know how I killed my lovely wife in a fit of jealousy. Today I am a lonely man. Every single moment I repent for my action. I know Desdemona will not come back but I wish to atone for my sins in a different way. I see there are too many instances of marital strife and domestic violence these days. I want to create awareness among young couples that hatred only begets hatred. It is love alone that can solve all problems. I want you to write all this on my behalf. Please do me this favour Madam." I was truly touched by his sincerity. I asked him to come in but he politely refused and took my leave instead.

I enetered my flat, changed and went to the basin to wash my hands. Oh God! There was this lady frantically washing her hands. No doubt this is Lady Macbeth for I heard her commanding tone "out damned spot out". Looking at me she said "You tell me, is it right to call me the fourth witch? Whmmmm.at did I do? I instigated my husband to kill that old Duncan who would have died in a few years anyway? And what wrong did my hubby do in wearing the crown? Would Malcolm and Donalbain have been able to handle the affairs of the state? They were only kids. Tell me, aren't you guys ambititious? Don't you all run after money? Don't you postpone marriages and childbirth, neglect your parents and spouses only to run after professional success? Then, what is our fault? And how dare one of your critics ask "how many children did Lady Macbeth have?" Lady Macbeth's words kept me thinking. With so many requests from so many characters I really did not know what to do. Things started getting jumbled up inside my peanut sized brain. I soon dozed off. I was shaken off my slumber by my husband's call. And what a surprise! There lay an envelope on my desk, with the draft of a beautiful story inside. The envelope read "from your Uncle Prospero".