Joined: 02 June 2005
Greetings ASAians and DCians,
This show keeps getting better doesn't it? As always, I'm still a few episodes behind (loads of time constraints and all!). But I love the theme of this show. The glitz and glamour and the ugly face of fame. Its really got me hooked.
So this time I have a collection of tiny analyses/one shots. It's my take on the various characters in this show. At the moment, here's an intimate look at six women from the show. I will add more about the other characters when I have more time.
Would love to hear what you think.
The stardust girl (with a jaded soul)
She was five, weeping and nursing her scrapped knee, in the shadows of the school stage when she learnt the greatest lesson of life.
She had worked so hard, tried her best to make her mummy proud, but then when she had worn the big long dress and those high, high shoes and gone on the stage' a fresh bout of tears flowed down her face. She could hear her mummy yelling at the teacher and at the sound of her sobs, she came storming and grabbing her arm hurled her up and dragged her away. Karishma tried desperately to control her sobs. She didn't want to get her mother angrier. But it was too late.
Her mother was shaking her, screaming and yelling, her long nails digging into her thin arms. Hurting and afraid, she looked up to tell her mother about how she had been tripped, how it wasn't really her fault. But as she looked up and saw Vinnie standing behind her mother grinning evilly, she stopped.
Her mother wouldn't listen. She wouldn't care and beside the truth remained the same. She was an embarrassment. As she saw Vinnie showing off her trophy, she finally figured it out.
It was better to be hated than not be noticed at all.
She loves glittery things (but they make her bleed)
She knows everything comes with a price tag.
Having no money can teach you that. It's not just the material things, she is not nave enough to believe that. It's all things - anything that matters, anything that's worthwhile. The cost of desire, the price of ambition, the auction of love. But she knows she's too poor, knows that even her breath is a loan, she'll have to repay eventually. She would never tell Meenakshi this, but she knows that even talent comes in different price brackets and she doesn't know if her sister will be able to ever repay. Don't get her wrong, she is happy for her sister - she isn't jaded enough not to be. She knows that her family is one of the very few things that she didn't have to struggle to acquire. She just had them, has always had them but she knows their dreams are unrealistic and expensive - notoriously high, laughably impractical. But she supposes that's what dreams are meant to be. Improbable notions we build our entire lives upon. It is the realizing them into reality that costs, and heavily.
Birju is the broker of her dreams.
For her, living is business, appreciating and becoming profitable or worthwhile only through dreams that you can hold in the palm of your hand. She maybe broke, but she is a woman (didn't have the luxury to remain a girl for long, she couldn't afford it), and she knows that sometimes, if used right that is all she needs. She is slowly turning her small dreams into reality, at the cost of her feelings - against the capital of her self-respect.
It is a small price to pay for feeling alive. After all, she has been existing all her life.
She had stars in her eyes (and clouds in her head)
She couldn't believe her luck. As if it wasn't enough that she was forced to stay away from her family, friends and salons ' she now had to share her room with her. It wasn't that she was particularly mean, horrible or that she stank. Thank God, she didn't stink but it was the principle of things.
As if it wasn't enough to be considered a ditz, she now had to partner with the 'servant girl'.
It wasn't a title she was particularly comfortable with but she had learnt a long time ago that it was better to stay silent than to raise her voice against majority. After all, she knew she wasn't particularly cruel nor exceptionally creative. Hell, she was even willing to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that she wasn't the prettiest one there too. But she was a good dancer and a decent person and she knew that was enough to buy her a little more time here, give her a larger chance to do what she loved ' dance.
Her roommate on the other hand, now she was a different story. If she were to be honest with herself, she would acknowledge that she was really uncomfortable with the way they treated her. She wasn't brave to stand up for her but she was also not mean to enjoy her torment. Besides, in the sanctuary of their rehearsal hall and the quiet of their room, the poor girl gave off a weird feeling of warmth and comfort. Preity was glad she wasn't being bullied and she was glad she wasn't getting into catfights. And when they rehearsed together, when they danced together ' she almost believed that they were friends, that they were a team. But she would never say it out loud.
After all, she knew, if they weren't targeting her, she'd be the next victim.
A porcelain queen (with a shattered heart)
There are many reasons why she drinks.
Some the media loves to write about and glorify, others over which her friends and fans empathize, but the real reason- that remains a secret. She drinks so she can drown out the voice of her soul.
It wasn't always this loud, initially, in the dusk days, before the blinding light of fame, right after the anonymity of darkness ' when things were fresh, new and heavenly. Those were good days, those were the real days of her life, even though they say her life began after dawn, she knows it was before when she was truly alive. With dreams in her eyes that remained almost unfulfilled, the sweet anticipation of the future to come, and the dear illusions that painted everything rosy and right. The voice was just a whisper then, gentle, warm and warning and drinking was a sweet temptation, an enticing thrill that tasted of freedom. She doesn't remember exactly when the heady taste of success turned into the bitter burn of bygone fame or when the glitter she so craved started to suffocate her soul. She does however remember that slowly, gradually the voice in her head turned louder and louder, more shriller as she let go of more and more inhibitions; the more the fans screamed, the louder the voice got.
The alcohol soon turned to solace. Slowly drowning out all the noise, her nagging, protesting sensibilities along with their wild, bewildering demands. Replacing the slowly receding buzz of fame with a new kind of high and the world continued to shine in her eyes and she continued to smile. As long as the cameras still followed her, she told herself she didn't care.
There wasn't much difference between being the breaking news or just merely breaking apart as long as she was a star.
She a dumb item girl (and they dance to her beats)
Being smart can get you places but she's dumb enough to last. She looks around and she sees masterminds and great players, gorgeous women and groomed men. She watches them from the shadows and grins. The games they play amuse her, it is one of the reasons she loves being in the limelight. Under the glaring lights, before the cameras, she watches them don personas, turn into people the masses love, or love to hate ' their masks firmly in place. She thinks they do okay there. But she would rather watch them when it's over. In the darkness, behind the cameras, the real magic happens. This is where they truly perform. Where their talents truly come forth. Ripped away from the public eye, they strip their morality, relying solely on their instinct to survive ' men turn to monsters and beauties turn to beasts. The masks slip away, the facades fall and she watches as animals come out to play. Like predators on a hunt, like vultures looking for a weak prey.
She works like a chameleon - a fox from within, a peacock on the outside.
She knows the way they look at her. Like she is too slow to understand and too brash to care. She loves it. It has taken her years to weave the blinds on their eyes. She realized too early in her life that in order to survive she had to make up a lie. If she weren't stealth and fast like a jaguar and feline and aloof like a cat, they would eat her alive. So she devised a camouflage and finely sharpened her most lethal weapon that keeps her in the limelight. She plays dumb and envelops them in a false world and when they trust her, when they start to ignore her, she outsmarts them all. They think she is unthreatening, she'll give them whatever they want and she does, sometimes ' its an investment for her. Gain their confidence, give them a sense of control and then when they least suspect it, she bats her eyes and steals their soul.
Her greatest power is to make other believe they have it.
It's her trump card and it always comes through. So she continues to flutter her eyes and flash her smiles and act like she is too slow to survive. Its hard work and patience and practice ' playing dumb isn't at all easy. But it's the only way she will outlast them all. The ones with brains and the ones with brawn, they will all pull each other down.
And when the times come, as they do sometimes, she pulls out her claws and leaves them blind.
Thanks for reading,
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She does full justice to the beauty of the suit.
#InternationalDanceDay: Putting on your dancing shoes already?
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