Skip to main content

Confessions of an actress..



She was standing in the limelight of the 77th annual cine awards, her sketch being portrayed as perfectly as ever. She stood there smiling blissfully with her teeth of pure white, her flexible skin elongating to produce a perfect upward curve. She had been plastered with a silky white gown portraying her clevage and strapped to 7 inch stilletos that she had never been comfortable with.

She was a woman of strong moral fiber, at least she had been so, until she was forced to act because of her stunning radiance and sharp features. A girl of 16 she was, when the first opportunity of playing a modest role in a tv series came her way. She was least interested as she had been doing exceedingly well in her academics. She had already set her goals of becoming a chartered accountant, unlike her mother, an actress of the 1970s, least successful and in debt, a drunkard who couldn't make it till her 60th birthday.

She was very disappointed in ending up the same way her mother did. She had gained the fame of a super star, the money as a millionaire, she drove a lamborghini and few other biggies were parked right in the garage of her large bungalow, but she could never gain one thing, happiness. Her dream of becoming a chartered accountant shattered when she found her mother dead on the porch after one of her alcohol sprees. She was indebted to pay the creditors of her mother 50 lakh rupees.

She was baffled to do anything about it, until a friend of her mother lent her a helping hand. He introduced her to a television series and in a movie as a second heroine with a well-known director due to his influence. And in return, she had to be his mistress for many a time at his call. She had let tears of sorrow in her shower when she got ready for his night, had even tried to rip the veins off her arm, when she was caught red-handed by an NGO while in pursuit of her last breath.

She had passed many nights with him in intense sorrow and shame. While she bloomed into a successful actress, there were the public thronging at her in the roads to take a snap of her, to hold her hand, to get her autograph, but she never liked any of these. For when she launched herself into a temple or a shopping mall, men crowded her, taking the bad advantage of touching her in an unmannered way without anyone noticing and the photographers clicking away at her most awkward and revealing postures. Moreover all the snaps made the press and gossips about her personal life flew in the air.

She was a person of solitude, enjoyed the fresh air and sunshine, not the chill and conditioned air from the AC or the expensive shades which smeared black on her sunshine. An intellectually sound person she was, who liked to write on social issues, not dance like a ragged doll on screen at the director's call. She had travelled the world, but she would have done anything to stay home for one whole day.

Her name was listed in the nominees of the annual cine awards, a big event which will shower her with more rewards and fame. As she was speaking over the mic on how happy she was on being nominated and how wonderful it would be if she got the award with a smile plastered on her face, she was weeping inside, wanting no more fame, no more money or rewards, no more of the media.

She wanted people who looked up to her purely impressed by her inner serenity, to love her for her wisdom and sensibility, not her blemish-free skin or her well-exposed body. She did receive the award for 'the best actress' and a lot of fame and money along with it. She won even more admirers, stalkers and media cover-ups, but never got what she wanted with all her heart.

I dedicate this post to every woman who had faced such fearful events in their lives. To get what one doesn't want is the biggest fear of all and the women of today who boldly face such extremities are to be truly respected, cared for and loved, for what their heart craves for is real love and not our admiration of their outer beauty at the peak of their fame.

Image courtesy: Daniel Weisser Photography

Comments

  1. Nice post . . Reminds me of stranger in the night by Sydney. And will fame comes pressures and people do like it. Don't we all talk about cbc being in limelight? If that happens then obviously we can't afford to make mistakes.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very true Kappu... Being in the limelight might be flattering, but it is double-sided. :) Thank you for your comment. :)

      Delete
  2. Remainds me the tamil movie Oru Nadigaiyin Vaaku moolam! 80% coincidence :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for reading and commenting Jothi sir. :)

      Delete
  3. Amazing read !! Love the way her emotions are captured !! :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Surprised to read the story, did you happen to watch the movie "Dirty picture" starring Vidya Balan.

    The story is well written to fine details, awesome

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you vv :) Yeah I did watch the movie lng back and it was really impactful I'd say. :)

      Delete
  5. I can relate this post to so many famous people who are judged based on their outward appearance and media exposure. It's very sad indeed. Our lives are beautiful when we think of the lives they are leading.

    Lovely to see prose here, Gayathree. Nice.

    Joy always,
    Susan

    P. S.: Gayathree it would be good if you cite the source of the picture you're using. Otherwise it might be violation of copyright.
    You can do it the way I do it, by stating the website at the end of your post.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks a lot Susan. We are blessed in many ways... the poorest man in the world is the one who lacks love and happiness. :)

      Sure I'll make it a point to cite the source of the pics I use from now on... even though they are all googled. :) :)

      Best,
      Gayathree

      Delete
    2. Nice post. Reminded me of something similar I read long ago.

      Delete
  6. Could almost visualise a poem/song in this post..

    Also, do credit the photograph else you could get into trouble..

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for reading Aarti.. :) Yes will find the name of the person to be credited soon nd will post it. :)

      Delete
  7. The life of many of the celebrities are like this. They come up in life with all money and fame they wanted but their inner always unfulfilled. A beggar on the road sleep well than these less fortunate beings. A beautiful story portrayed well in a smooth silky style. Weldone Gayathree!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thank you so much MOM :) So nice of you to drop in :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Speak your mind

Popular posts from this blog

A jungle of hell

I lost my way in the woods,
there is no sunshine to caress,
no rain to melt with,
no green to rejoice in,
yet a jungle.

I lost my way in the woods,
with no guffaws of the hyenas,
no chatter of the monkeys,
or the roars of a lion,
yet a jungle.

I lost my way in the woods,
with no pearly falls from the mountain,
no mountain at all,
no chilling breeze cutting through my sweat,
yet a jungle.

I lost my way in the woods,
with not the music of the bamboos,
not the trot of a deary deer,
nor the melody of a cuckoo,
yet a jungle.

I lost my way in the woods,
with not the hunters killing for food,
with not the saw men cutting for good,
nor their intent very pure,
yet a jungle.

I lost my way in this wood,
where there are concrete all around,
bricks that overlay the fertile land,
gummy tar that nullifies the greens of the ancient past,
yet a jungle.

I lost my way in this wood,
where there is no land to plough,
no soil to seed, no shoots to water,
yet food to eat, in the heavy laden plates of gold,

The smells that lacquered 'HOME'.

Turning smelly air into smiley takes a lot of time and effort. But my mother and my grandmother were harbingers of tidying our home and enravelling mystical aroma into the air. I strongly associate some fond memories of my grandmother when I think about the different smells that unfurl at home.

Every morning when I used to wake up by 9:00 AM as a kid, the first person I used to almost see was my grandma. She would be cutting vegetables for my mum to cook. The aroma of turmeric from her golden yellow skin used to waft in the air. When she calls me for bath and to apply turmeric on me, I used to runaway fearing the rabid yellow stains that my face will suffer. But I secretly steal a pinch of the yellow powder just to smell the pungent smell of it. 
My grandfather was a voracious reader. When the clock strikes 6, he used to eagerly look forward to the arrival of the paper boy with his favourite 'The Hindu' news journal. When he reads the newspaper, I used to sit on his lap and s…

When the ragged requited his passion...

I am writing about #MyRoleModel as a part of the activity by Gillette India in association with BlogAdda.com.

There were streaking sparks from the distant star that were scorching the narrow roads of the metropolis. I was reclined in the four-wheeled luxury skimming over a glossy magazine with skinny models teething in glamour. There was also this favourite melancholy of mine that was shrilling the juke box that I had installed into my car. 

As I passed by a pawn-strewn road flooded with scorchy rays, I happened to notice a middle-aged man who was in ragged attire (a mud-stocked banniyan and a lungi tied up to his thighs) squatting on to a stone. He had his face covered with a beard unshaven for a few days and brown, unkempt mane that fell over his forehead. 
Yet I noticed something that was so attractive about him. He was too concentrated onto something he was doing to even notice anything that was happening around him, the sun drinking away his body-moisture, him sweating profusely …