It has been rough!

Extricating myself from the routine of every day commitments and the joyous routine of writing for the day here. I truly mean it. Until the blog for the day is put down and done with, until the task of running through the comments is studied, I remain preoccupied in my thought.

What must I say? Should I respond to the questions of my fellow bloggers? Should I inform them of what transpired the whole day? Would they be interested in some more words from my Father? Should I clarify some of the issues raised? An observation on a topic of current value? What?

The studio was hot and uncomfortable and the dress most undesired for the occasion. Long hair, overcoat and hat ! At 51 degrees on set it is horrendous. As soon as this ordeal was over there was the delight of a quick shower in the vanity van, change of clothes and on to a greater ordeal — facing the media, for the promotion of Sarkar Raj.

Electronic, print, radio all come on at the same venue, for paucity of time and in quick succession. The questions are limited and often the same. It is a test of skill for an actor to be able to give the same answers and yet make them sound as though they were different. That over, you rush to the rehearsals for the upcoming tour of concerts. Its been almost 18 years since I went on one and there are questions here too. What can I do for the audience now. Some nostalgia, something more recent. Dance? Dear me! How will I ever move this 66 year old ruined mass of body!

Back home and now setting up for my trip to Nainital. Sherwood College. My alma mater. Its founder’s Week and the class of 1958 is getting together after 50 years. That is a long time.

Seems like just yesterday we were getting packed in Delhi, having just unpacked from our transfer from Allahabad. The excitement of going to boarding, the uniform, the clothes and accessories being name tagged, right down to our socks and under wear, which was rather amusing. Ma filling up our bags with ‘tuck’ — home made goodies — jams and biscuits and chocolates and condensed milk. Meeting new faces at the station, parents, colleagues, teachers. The final bye-byes, the tears running down Ma’s face and she bravely trying not to show them. The bus up to the lake town from Kathgodam and the steep walk to the school. The dormitories, the classes, the sporting activities, the achievements and failures. Everything so vivid and clear.

And I wonder, will Nainital be the same after so many years. And Sherwood.

Boarding school. The happiest days of your life! Easy to say it now, but whilst we were there everything seemed such a torture! Now we realise. Everything that we learnt in Sherwood we still put to use in our daily existence. And so apt the school moto —Mereat Quisque Palmam — let each one merit their own prize!

(http://blogs.bigadda.com/ab/)