THE JOY OF COLOURS: #MYFRIEND ALEXA

BLACK

                                                                 Unsplash

She watched, entranced and horrified, as he strode towards his victim cowering in a corner of the room. His face glistened with anticipation as he lifted his knotted whip and brought it down on the back of the terrified man who screamed as the cord tore at his lacerated flesh.

As Rukmani watched, tears flowed down her cheeks. Why was Johnny so cruel? Or was he Tony, Zapata, Murugan, Gokulnath… every role he played showed him in a negative light, the arc lights shining on his swarthy face even as he played the villain to the hilt. Besides, he had one fetish that he refused to part with. He wore only black, a colour that made him appear more menacing than ever.

Rukmani had seen every movie of his, starting from when he had acted as a young boy accused of outwitting an entire gang of smugglers. It was then that one of his directors fathomed the potential he had to be a villain.

“Boy, you have the look of a villain!” he smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

The boy had no idea whether he meant it as a compliment. The next remark put that doubt to rest.

“Besides, you are no beauty. No one will risk you as a hero!”

That was the turning point. From then on, Badrinarayan turned into Tiger Raman, the black-hearted foil to the swashbuckling hero, who was always fair and handsome. While the women swooned over the hero, the meaty roles went to the villain in black whose performances brought life to the films.

Rukmani was one of those avid film goers who devoured every scene, wide-eyed. She was simple minded enough not to realise that these were only roles on the silver screen. Every time Raman molested a girl on screen, or robbed an innocent man, she brandished curses on him. When he tied the hero up and threatened to kill him if his ransom demands were not met, Rukmani’s eyes would emit sparks.

“A curse on the villain! How dare he touch a hair on the hero’s head? He will get his just desserts!”

When her daughter, Sarika, tried to calm her down by telling her that movies were not real, she would push her away, muttering, “Don’t brainwash me into believing that! That Raman is a true scoundrel. He must be one in real life too.”

When Raman got married to the glamorous Tanya who had done a few cameos in movies and then faded away, the paparazzi went crazy. They were nicknamed ‘The Beauty and the Beast’ by unfeeling journalists. One particular journalist accosted Raman as he was getting into his car.

“What do you feel about being called the beast who wed a beauty?” she asked shrilly, trying to stop him from entering his car.

“How would you feel if someone called you that?” he replied politely, but wearily. “Obviously, not happy!”

As the years went by, Raman’s roles started getting more and more lurid. He was soon the most visible face on screen. Every time the directors had a powerful negative role, they would ask for him. The awards he won for his portrayal covered a whole room in his opulent house. Tanya’s most common complaint was that his wardrobes were filled with black shirts and pants because he only wore black in keeping with his on-screen persona.

Then one day, Sarika came running to Rukmani.

“Amma, did you hear the news? Raman is being felicitated in the Town Hall here. He has completed forty years in the movies, and he is being given a award by the film fraternity.”

“Here? In our town?” Rukmani could not believe her ears.

“Tickets are available for the public. Don’t you want to go and see him?” Sarika had a mischievous smile.

“No, no, why would I want to see a villain like him?” Rukmani shook her head, alarm in her eyes.

However, there was a tiny flutter within her heart. Imagine being able to see a man whom she had seen so often on the silver screen?

“Appa would have wanted you to go,” whispered Sarika.

Rukmani’s husband, Selva, had known of her passion for movies and had taken her to many of them, till he succumbed to a heart attack one evening, and left her and Sarika quite alone in the world. Maybe the mention of Selva made her change her mind. He would have wanted her to go; he would have taken her for the function had he been around.

The Town Hall was milling over with people, all agog at the thought of seeing their idol in real life. Rukmani and Sarika were sitting in the second row, even though the tickets were slightly pricey.

There was a sudden hush in the hall as Raman strode in, clad in his customary black shirt and pants. His face shone in the bright lights of the auditorium. Rukmani held her breath as she watched him. He was better looking in real life, was her first thought. When she whispered to Sarika, the latter laughed, saying, “That’s because he has no make up on. In movies, he is always made up to look like a villain.”

The function went smoothly, as speakers waxed eloquent on Raman’s life, his movies, his talent and his achievements. Rukmani heard everything, mouth agape. Raman seemed like any other man; he did not come across as evil in the least. She was a trifle disappointed because she had expected him to be louder, to stride across the stage with a sneering laugh. Or maybe look lasciviously at the pretty young things who were waiting to take selfies with him. This was not the Raman she was expecting. Her eyes filled with tears, but she knew not why she was shedding them.

Raman stood up with a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for this wonderful honour.” He spoke for about fifteen minutes, and Rukmani listened to him in rapt attention. Finally, he paused, and then said, “I know many of you think that I am like my screen persona – evil, immoral and inhuman. Believe me, I am none of those things. This award proves that I am an actor, able to emote on screen and leave my roles behind me.” Smiling, he went on, “If I had committed even a quarter of those crimes in real life, I would have been behind bars, believe me.”

He then pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and smiled again.

“I am speaking of my real-life persona like this only because I have here a letter that a young lady wrote to me. She said that her mother was a huge fan of my movies but that she disliked me intensely because she felt that I was a villain in real life. Could I please call this fan of mine onstage? Mrs. Rukmani Iyer!”

The blood rushed into Rukmani’s head as she looked like a deer caught in headlights. She glanced at Sarika who pulled her to her feet.

“Go, Amma!”

Raman stood on stage, smiling at her, his face gleaming in the light.

“Mrs. Rukmani, it is so good to meet you.” He held his hand out and she took it timidly, as she looked into his eyes. Gentle brown eyes with a smile in them! Could these eyes ever hurt anybody? The answer rose within her heart.

 She smiled back at him, her heart beating at the sound of the thunderous applause from the audience.

It was time to let the misconceptions fly away!

 

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