Since the time she was just a little child, Riha’s been afraid of the spotlight.
Her parents found it odd, considering they were both theatre enthusiasts
and well-known actors. They passed it off as a phase, saying she would grow
out of it soon. Eighteen years later, today, Riha’s parents have accepted that
their one and only daughter may have stage fright. Though, this didn’t mean
they had come to terms with it. Riha’s been to doctors, therapists, theatre
workshops, everything that may help cure her. Unfortunately for her
parents, nothing worked. Riha was alright with her fear. She didn’t really
care that she couldn’t perform in theatre the way her parents did. She had
other dreams. Her ambitious mind was fixated on architecture. What Riha
did care about were her parents; and her parents cared about her fear. So
when her parents asked her to take a week long leave from school to
perform at a theatre festival, Riha was heartbroken.
“Just a few days of school! What’s the fuss about, Riha? It’s good practice
for your future in the industry!” Giggled Riha’s mother
“Maa, school’s important!!!! I must go! My…chemistry teacher said that if I
missed even a single day of school she would…uh…FAIL ME!” Exclaimed
Riha, inwardly wincing at her lie. She already knew what her mother’s
next words would be.
“FAIL you? I need to speak to the school about this! How could she?”
Ranted Riha’s mother as she pulled out her phone and began writing an
email.
“Maa, DON’T! I made that up so you don’t make me skip school!” Riha
explained as she snatched the phone out of her mother’s hands.
“I know, silly. I did it to trap you. And why are you so keen on going to
school anyway? Don’t be such a bore! Have fun! Act!” Smiled Riha’s
mother.
“Maa, we need to talk.” Commanded Riha as she urged her mom onto her
bed.
Riha closed the bedroom door behind her, blocking the sound of happy
children playing in the park. Furthermore, she drew the blinds too, stopping
the sunny Sunday afternoon light from entering the otherwise dingy room.
Riha knew that this little talk would bring her emotional mother to tears and
just wanted to make sure she was ready. She didn’t want her neighbors to
think she was making her mother cry.
“What is all this drama for? You’re a theatre actress- not some character
on a soap opera!” Joked Riha’s mother.
“Maa, I can’t act. I can’t perform the way you and Papa do! I have a fear-
remember? The one you and Papa keep pretending isn’t real?”
Riha looked up at her mother to see she had tears in her eyes. Riha sat down
on the bed and held her mother’s hands.
“I love acting,’” Lied Riha “I really do.”
It had been about a month since Riha convinced her mother to let her go to
school rather than the festival. It was a Sunday and Riha’s dad had come
home from his big play in Bombay about a week ago. It was a lazy Sunday
and Riha had spent her entire morning working on a new sketch for her Art
and Design class in school It felt like a completely normal Sunday, so when
Riha found her parents in the living room, all excited, waiting for Riha, she
knew something was different.
“Why’re you guys here?” Asked Riha as she tried to pretend she wasn’t
slightly upset that she couldn’t just eat a quick lunch and jump right back to
completing her work.
“We have good news for you!” Teased Riha’s father- grinning from ear to
ear.
Her mother clasped Riha’s father’s hand tightly and giggled. “Great news”
She corrected.
“What is it?” Asked Riha, genuinely curious.
“See for yourself.” Said Riha’s father and held out a big white envelope
addressed to Riha.
It wasn’t opened, so Riha’s parents already knew what it was and just
wanted to see the look on Riha’s face when she opens it. With every second,
Riha got more and more curious and excited. Riha tore open the big white
envelope. The content was heavy…and spiral bound. She slowly tugged it
out of the ripped paper that wrapped it- her disappointment growing with
each centimeter it moved. She held the bulky piece of mail on her hands. She
felt the increasing pressure on her- both, literally and metaphorically. She
looked at the object in her hands. A translucent blue sheet of paper. Her
parents’ dreams- and her own nightmare. Her mother stood on her toes,
biting her nails as she tried to contain her excitement.
“What is it?” Probed Riha’s mother.
Riha swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. She weighed
the papers in her hand, feeling her fingers get cold under the sheets. They
seemed so new, clean, and inviting- untouched; but they intimidated her
more than anything else. Riha looked up at her parents. The two people that
put Riha above all else. The two people that had allowed and guided Riha to
pursue any dream she had wanted. The two people that had great plans for
Riha’s future, great plans to carry on their family name in theatre even after
their time. The least Riha could do is give it a try. For her parents. Riha was
ready to attempt at a good job- even if it meant facing her biggest fear.
“It’s a script.” Whispered Riha- trying her best to fake excitement.
“We found a way to fix you.” Laughs Riha’s mom as she hugs her
daughter.
“How…how so?” Stammers Riha. “I’m-I can’t.” Explains Riha.
“Oh, Riha! It’s a script for a big film! Movie! You’re the lead! And your
father and I know that you can do this because you’re not on stage! It’s
not a play, so now you won’t be afraid!” Riha pulled away from the hug.
“I’m going to go study now. Exams coming up.” Riha said as she began
walking back to her room, script still in hand.
“But what about your lunch?” called Riha’s mother.
“I’m not hungry. Lost my appetite.” Replied Riha, mumbling the last three
words.
The shoot was as tiring as could be. Eight months of this. Torture. Luckily,
six months were done with. Only two to go. Riha’s parents had been had
been wrong. Replacing ten thousand people with a camera didn’t change
anything. Riha was still afraid. She knew she wasn’t doing well. The
producers would curse themselves for allowing her to do the movie. The
director would pick at his nails during scenes. This was the fourth break
since lunch. That’s one break every 1.3334 hours, calculated Riha. She knew
this wasn’t a good sign, but it meant she got more time in her trailer, so she
could study for her exams. She was hoping to ace math, physics and art and
design this year. It would help out a lot for when she becomes an architect.
She had to do well in these exams. Her finals. Her parents had told her to let
it go, saying that she was stressing herself out too much and that was
coming in the way of her acting. Still, Riha wanted to be an architect. If she
had to study for it, she would. If that came in the way of her acting, so be it.
At the rate she was going, this movie wasn’t going to do well anyway. Her
parents knew it too, so they would arrange for Riha to show up on reality
shows to promote her movie. Obviously, Riha didn’t like this and often didn’t
show up when she had to. When her parents thought she’s leaving to the
venue of the show, Riha would walk to the nearest library and study there
till late night. It didn’t take long till her parents caught on but they convinced
themselves that it was nothing more than her responsibility to have a back
up plan in the unlikely case of a tough time in the theatre industry.
Riha sat at the desk in her study, designing buildings as a way to let out her
anger. On the other side of the door, her parents walked around the house,
raging. Newspapers crumpled up in their hands. Every time they passed the
study, they would talk to Riha through the door about how angry they were.
How embarrassed they were to say that Riha was their daughter. Her movie
had released a few days ago. Film critiques loved the story, but hated Riha.
“A horrendous actor”, “Expressionless and boring”, “Hopefully a joke”, “I
wouldn’t even pick her if she was last resort” These and other similar
colorful opinions decorated this week’s news. As much as Riha tried not to
care, she really did. She was scared even in front of the camera. Riha could
never act, and that bothered her parents. After close to four hours of
thinking and drawing and crying and reading and screaming at her, Riha’s
parents seemed to have calmed down. Her father said he needed time and
left the house. Her mom sat in the study with now, holding Riha’s hand.
“I’m sorry for getting angry. We should have known. You’ve always been
afraid of the spotlight. Your father and I have just had such high hopes for
you because according to us you’ve always been a brilliant actor. Any
actor worth his or her salt can do two things: cry on demand; and lie
exceptionally well. Riha, I’m your mother. I’ve see you do both. I’m not
going to lie, you’ve really let us down. I don’t know, maybe it was my fault
that I had such high expectations. I’m just not used to seeing you go
wrong. Ever. From things like washing dishes to things like school- you’ve
always been right in everything.”
“Speaking of school, Maa, I have something you need to sign.” Replied
Riha
“A report card? Let me guess: eighty per cent in everything except math,
physics and art and design. Ninety per cent in all those three?” Riha’s
mother smiled.
“Actually, ninety four per cent in physics.” Corrected Riha.
On that, Riha’s mother signed the sheet, kissed Riha’s forehead and left the
study. That night, at dinner, Riha’s father apologized too.
A week later, Riha’s parents helped Riha apply to 12 different architecture
schools. Little did they know that the next month would be that happiest
month of Riha’s life.
Riha tore open the big white envelopes, but this time, she wasn’t holding a
script. She held a letter addressed to her. A letter from MIT. An acceptance
letter from MIT.
“I GOT IN! I GOT IN TO MIT! I CAN STUDY ARCHITECTURE!”
Now, here she stood, waving goodbye to her loving, supportive and
understanding parents from the airport- and saying hello to the next big
chapter in her life.
Her parents found it odd, considering they were both theatre enthusiasts
and well-known actors. They passed it off as a phase, saying she would grow
out of it soon. Eighteen years later, today, Riha’s parents have accepted that
their one and only daughter may have stage fright. Though, this didn’t mean
they had come to terms with it. Riha’s been to doctors, therapists, theatre
workshops, everything that may help cure her. Unfortunately for her
parents, nothing worked. Riha was alright with her fear. She didn’t really
care that she couldn’t perform in theatre the way her parents did. She had
other dreams. Her ambitious mind was fixated on architecture. What Riha
did care about were her parents; and her parents cared about her fear. So
when her parents asked her to take a week long leave from school to
perform at a theatre festival, Riha was heartbroken.
“Just a few days of school! What’s the fuss about, Riha? It’s good practice
for your future in the industry!” Giggled Riha’s mother
“Maa, school’s important!!!! I must go! My…chemistry teacher said that if I
missed even a single day of school she would…uh…FAIL ME!” Exclaimed
Riha, inwardly wincing at her lie. She already knew what her mother’s
next words would be.
“FAIL you? I need to speak to the school about this! How could she?”
Ranted Riha’s mother as she pulled out her phone and began writing an
email.
“Maa, DON’T! I made that up so you don’t make me skip school!” Riha
explained as she snatched the phone out of her mother’s hands.
“I know, silly. I did it to trap you. And why are you so keen on going to
school anyway? Don’t be such a bore! Have fun! Act!” Smiled Riha’s
mother.
“Maa, we need to talk.” Commanded Riha as she urged her mom onto her
bed.
Riha closed the bedroom door behind her, blocking the sound of happy
children playing in the park. Furthermore, she drew the blinds too, stopping
the sunny Sunday afternoon light from entering the otherwise dingy room.
Riha knew that this little talk would bring her emotional mother to tears and
just wanted to make sure she was ready. She didn’t want her neighbors to
think she was making her mother cry.
“What is all this drama for? You’re a theatre actress- not some character
on a soap opera!” Joked Riha’s mother.
“Maa, I can’t act. I can’t perform the way you and Papa do! I have a fear-
remember? The one you and Papa keep pretending isn’t real?”
Riha looked up at her mother to see she had tears in her eyes. Riha sat down
on the bed and held her mother’s hands.
“I love acting,’” Lied Riha “I really do.”
It had been about a month since Riha convinced her mother to let her go to
school rather than the festival. It was a Sunday and Riha’s dad had come
home from his big play in Bombay about a week ago. It was a lazy Sunday
and Riha had spent her entire morning working on a new sketch for her Art
and Design class in school It felt like a completely normal Sunday, so when
Riha found her parents in the living room, all excited, waiting for Riha, she
knew something was different.
“Why’re you guys here?” Asked Riha as she tried to pretend she wasn’t
slightly upset that she couldn’t just eat a quick lunch and jump right back to
completing her work.
“We have good news for you!” Teased Riha’s father- grinning from ear to
ear.
Her mother clasped Riha’s father’s hand tightly and giggled. “Great news”
She corrected.
“What is it?” Asked Riha, genuinely curious.
“See for yourself.” Said Riha’s father and held out a big white envelope
addressed to Riha.
It wasn’t opened, so Riha’s parents already knew what it was and just
wanted to see the look on Riha’s face when she opens it. With every second,
Riha got more and more curious and excited. Riha tore open the big white
envelope. The content was heavy…and spiral bound. She slowly tugged it
out of the ripped paper that wrapped it- her disappointment growing with
each centimeter it moved. She held the bulky piece of mail on her hands. She
felt the increasing pressure on her- both, literally and metaphorically. She
looked at the object in her hands. A translucent blue sheet of paper. Her
parents’ dreams- and her own nightmare. Her mother stood on her toes,
biting her nails as she tried to contain her excitement.
“What is it?” Probed Riha’s mother.
Riha swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. She weighed
the papers in her hand, feeling her fingers get cold under the sheets. They
seemed so new, clean, and inviting- untouched; but they intimidated her
more than anything else. Riha looked up at her parents. The two people that
put Riha above all else. The two people that had allowed and guided Riha to
pursue any dream she had wanted. The two people that had great plans for
Riha’s future, great plans to carry on their family name in theatre even after
their time. The least Riha could do is give it a try. For her parents. Riha was
ready to attempt at a good job- even if it meant facing her biggest fear.
“It’s a script.” Whispered Riha- trying her best to fake excitement.
“We found a way to fix you.” Laughs Riha’s mom as she hugs her
daughter.
“How…how so?” Stammers Riha. “I’m-I can’t.” Explains Riha.
“Oh, Riha! It’s a script for a big film! Movie! You’re the lead! And your
father and I know that you can do this because you’re not on stage! It’s
not a play, so now you won’t be afraid!” Riha pulled away from the hug.
“I’m going to go study now. Exams coming up.” Riha said as she began
walking back to her room, script still in hand.
“But what about your lunch?” called Riha’s mother.
“I’m not hungry. Lost my appetite.” Replied Riha, mumbling the last three
words.
The shoot was as tiring as could be. Eight months of this. Torture. Luckily,
six months were done with. Only two to go. Riha’s parents had been had
been wrong. Replacing ten thousand people with a camera didn’t change
anything. Riha was still afraid. She knew she wasn’t doing well. The
producers would curse themselves for allowing her to do the movie. The
director would pick at his nails during scenes. This was the fourth break
since lunch. That’s one break every 1.3334 hours, calculated Riha. She knew
this wasn’t a good sign, but it meant she got more time in her trailer, so she
could study for her exams. She was hoping to ace math, physics and art and
design this year. It would help out a lot for when she becomes an architect.
She had to do well in these exams. Her finals. Her parents had told her to let
it go, saying that she was stressing herself out too much and that was
coming in the way of her acting. Still, Riha wanted to be an architect. If she
had to study for it, she would. If that came in the way of her acting, so be it.
At the rate she was going, this movie wasn’t going to do well anyway. Her
parents knew it too, so they would arrange for Riha to show up on reality
shows to promote her movie. Obviously, Riha didn’t like this and often didn’t
show up when she had to. When her parents thought she’s leaving to the
venue of the show, Riha would walk to the nearest library and study there
till late night. It didn’t take long till her parents caught on but they convinced
themselves that it was nothing more than her responsibility to have a back
up plan in the unlikely case of a tough time in the theatre industry.
Riha sat at the desk in her study, designing buildings as a way to let out her
anger. On the other side of the door, her parents walked around the house,
raging. Newspapers crumpled up in their hands. Every time they passed the
study, they would talk to Riha through the door about how angry they were.
How embarrassed they were to say that Riha was their daughter. Her movie
had released a few days ago. Film critiques loved the story, but hated Riha.
“A horrendous actor”, “Expressionless and boring”, “Hopefully a joke”, “I
wouldn’t even pick her if she was last resort” These and other similar
colorful opinions decorated this week’s news. As much as Riha tried not to
care, she really did. She was scared even in front of the camera. Riha could
never act, and that bothered her parents. After close to four hours of
thinking and drawing and crying and reading and screaming at her, Riha’s
parents seemed to have calmed down. Her father said he needed time and
left the house. Her mom sat in the study with now, holding Riha’s hand.
“I’m sorry for getting angry. We should have known. You’ve always been
afraid of the spotlight. Your father and I have just had such high hopes for
you because according to us you’ve always been a brilliant actor. Any
actor worth his or her salt can do two things: cry on demand; and lie
exceptionally well. Riha, I’m your mother. I’ve see you do both. I’m not
going to lie, you’ve really let us down. I don’t know, maybe it was my fault
that I had such high expectations. I’m just not used to seeing you go
wrong. Ever. From things like washing dishes to things like school- you’ve
always been right in everything.”
“Speaking of school, Maa, I have something you need to sign.” Replied
Riha
“A report card? Let me guess: eighty per cent in everything except math,
physics and art and design. Ninety per cent in all those three?” Riha’s
mother smiled.
“Actually, ninety four per cent in physics.” Corrected Riha.
On that, Riha’s mother signed the sheet, kissed Riha’s forehead and left the
study. That night, at dinner, Riha’s father apologized too.
A week later, Riha’s parents helped Riha apply to 12 different architecture
schools. Little did they know that the next month would be that happiest
month of Riha’s life.
Riha tore open the big white envelopes, but this time, she wasn’t holding a
script. She held a letter addressed to her. A letter from MIT. An acceptance
letter from MIT.
“I GOT IN! I GOT IN TO MIT! I CAN STUDY ARCHITECTURE!”
Now, here she stood, waving goodbye to her loving, supportive and
understanding parents from the airport- and saying hello to the next big
chapter in her life.
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