An Unintended Punch And A Shashi Tharoor Debacle – IIM Rohtak
“Bro, we need a story. The skit isn’t working out” I snap back to reality hearing these words from my classmate.
It’s the war of sections practice going on. Being the team leader, I’d put my head in front of all three trains: Dance, Drama, and Fashion Show.
We had a Malayali costume for our Jhumki Kammal dance. I’d insisted on Malayalam over other South Indian languages. It’s the one chance I get to showcase my state. I wanted to put in a performance that would make Che Guevara proud.
“Let’s go with a panel discussion kinda thing with Arnab Goswami and Shashi Tharoor and all.” I say.
I agree to play Shashi Tharoor. I plan out dialogues in immaculate and incomprehensible levels of English. I had the hair to fit the part. Just needed Mr.Tharoor’s wide smile and occasional fiddling of his hair to complete the role.
Hence started the practice for a week over the duration of which there were days where I woke up at 6 and slept at 3. I lost weight like it was nobody’s business. Those days are a haze even now when I try to recollect.
Come the day of the event and I am hyped up. Our dance comes ahead of the drama. Thing about the dance is that I need to change into a Malayali Dhoti in 1.5 minutes between songs. The possible disaster in the event of the change not happening was lingering in my mind like a raincloud over a pink parade.
Our first dance starts. The dance included a lollipop as a prop which I had safely hidden in my pocket. First major turn of body in the dance and the lollipop flies off and lands in front of me.
Now, I am a staunch believer of the 5 second rule. The germs are honourable and don’t touch your food until 5 seconds passes between the moment it touches the floor.
But taking a lollipop off the stage and putting it in my mouth in front of 500 odd people was an ethical dilemma, to say the least.
I proceed to play act eating a lollipop and run off stage to change into my dhoti. The guy I had assigned to hold my dhoti in place for quick changing was relieved to see me come. I roll into my dhoti and change shirts in the dim lighting backstage. I am pumped up. One flick of a wrist to put on the shirt sleeve and my hand lands on somebody’s face. Poor guy (or girl) never saw it coming.
I had no time to check for damages. I run back on stage and start dancing to “Entammede Jhimmiki kammal…”.
Needless to say, my dhoti betrayed me and the dance ended in me with one hand held up in a dance pose and the other holding up my dhoti.
Next comes the drama.
The panel discussion is heating up.
We try our practised jokes one after the other.
Pin. Drop. Silence.
I mean, I’d seen the better reaction from a crowd at funerals.
My part to speak comes on. Clad in Kurta and waistcoat, I start delivering my line.
Mid line, things go astray.
I have no idea where I am going with my dialogue.
I decide to go for a contingency plan. Mr. Taroor’s infamous lines come out:
“exasperating farrago of distortions misrepresentation and outright… chunthari vanthari konjiko…munthiri konjiri chinthiko… thankanilaavum panjoli vaave…”
AR Rahman makes an appearance in my line out of nowhere. The crowd goes wild. Huge laughter and applause.
We placed second last in drama. I would say my line played a significant part. Also, section D, how bad were you guys, man.
Thus concludes my memorable experience from my first year of MBA.
To the person I punched and never apologized to, I am sorry. You might read this. Please don’t sue.