Work Text:
52-year-old Neil Perry was feeling ecstatic, almost abnormally happy. He was in the midst of a class, with a semi-circle of 30-odd wide-eyed young adults sitting in front of him, uncontrollably laughing at all the jokes he was trying to crack in the class, their nerves crackling with infinite and inexhaustible energy. He was also uncontrollably laughing along with them. His nerves were also crackling with infinite and inexhaustible energy along with them.
Neil always felt ecstatic, almost abnormally happy, whenever he was in the midst of a class. He could actually see his 52-year-old spirit seamlessly merging with the 22-year-old spirit of his students. He could actually see himself becoming 'one' with the students, despite the wide canyon of the huge chronological age difference between them and him. He could tangibly feel the class flowing effortlessly like a refreshingly cool breeze.
And then, right in the middle of the class, his mind would zip back in time to that fateful, freezing-cold winter night 36 years ago. His mind would zip back in time at super-sonic speed, to that auditorium at Henley Hall, to that stage on which he had played the only part in a play in his life, the part of Puck in William Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, the playful part of Puck, the mischievous prank-playing forest fairy, the part that Neil had played with the utmost energy and vivacity that Puck deserved, the part that had ended with a very serious speech of apology, the speech that had brought the curtains down and that had aroused a standing ovation from the audience. His mind would zip back to the ecstasy, the almost abnormal happiness, that he had experienced that blissful evening 36 years ago, completely unmindful of what was about to happen to him in the fateful night that would follow that blissful evening. His mind would zip back to that time when he had truly been happy, when he had been in his element, when he had 'seized the day' for the first time in his life, despite all odds, despite his father’s frowning face staring menacingly at him from the balcony of the hall.
And it was at these times that Neil realised that the part of Puck that he had played 36 years ago was not the only theatrical role that he had played. It was at these times that he realised that that was not the only time that he had applied greasepaint, donned a costume, and put up a show. He had been doing that every day of his life for the 26 years for which he had been a teacher. He had consciously chosen teaching as a career, which was nothing but theatre with a different name.
As long as he had been a teacher, he had been more than mindful of the fact that teaching was nothing but play-acting. In the 26 years that he had spent teaching, his audience had changed many times over, his script had changed many times over, his stage had changed many times over, but what had remained unchanged was the core content of his job, which continued to be play-acting.
In a twisted manner, Neil had been able to fulfil his cherished schoolboy dream of acting. Because for the past 26 years, he had been 'acting', applying an invisible greasepaint of good humour and breezy cheerfulness, donning an invisible costume of electrifying energy and infectious enthusiasm, and putting up a show of life and liveliness. All along his life as a teacher, Neil had been playing Puck - laughing at himself to make others laugh.
But deep within, he was sadly aware of his 'reality', his dark side, his blues, which he so successfully managed to keep hidden from his audience. Deep within, he was scared stiff that his real, sad self would stand exposed on the stage someday in the blinding glare of limelight. Deep within, he was nervously frightened that his practised ease of manner would abandon him one day, that his greasepaint of ecstasy and his costume of almost abnormal happiness would come off one day, and someone someday would call his bluff, his craftily created and tactfully maintained bluff, and his 'show' would be over.