Lament Of The Masqued

By Varun Anjarlekar

One such as I acquainted much more,

With the back of the curtain than the fore,

What a curse it is not to ignore,

That my time in the stage is no more.

While playing such roles as Orpheus and Mark Anthony,

Weathering the roars of laughter, despair and agony,

Knowing I now face only mundane monotony,

To bookend a career characterised by undying autonomy.

Where talent is the solitary rose,

That blossoms amidst the weeded rows,

Such tragedy is it is for one who knows,

That their stunning career is now at a close.

Such news to any in my condition is harrowing,

Which at my age means that opportunities are only narrowing,

In a career which demand is not quite fallowing,

Which the gentry are steadily less hallowing.

It is also the last time the voice that they called 'heavenly',

So much so that it was said to be the saving grace of 'Merrily',

I cannot say I am leaving this place cheerily,

The truth of the matter is this departure has taken me quite 'horreur'-edly,

What words that will be inscribed on my metaphorical gravestone,

Will soon be forgotten, and will be regarded with as much due as a pavestone,

What was a diamond will now be regarded as cave-stone,

And this for a career where applause thundered like hailstones.

I make no secret of the fact that my situation is dire,

With dramatic roles or lack thereof landing me in that mire,

That sucks all talent in from the performer whose stagecraft could set fires,

And onto screens have them play roles that don't inspire.

No doubt the transition won't be one that fans would invite,

My absence from the stage you hardly could call respite,

But now with a revival on the way that may get rid of this blight,

I think that enough has been said to the cameramen of my plight.

By Varun Anjarlekar