Mirroring nails he slips on
his face greasy green
the white skirt encircles and
entombs
his already large hips.
He readies himself for the
performance
as he imagines
how they will see him today
Keechaka
to be killed yet again
by Bhima aka Vallala.
Villain
Rapist
Evildoer
What not.
Would they ever see him as noble?
As a man of great talent?
Not just the man
Sairanthri asked to be taken care
of?
After all didn’t Keechaka
possess charm and masculinity?
Wasn’t he worthy of being followed?
Sighing he walks to the stage.
Who would listen to a poor
actor’s thoughts
For Keechaka exists
only in the realms of the
theatre.
The world of the make believe
stops at the edge of the curtain
for that is where reality steps
in
to tear away the world of dreams.
(Based on a reading of the play Marattam)
