Cheater

“So what’s it like?” I ask nonchalantly, careful not to push it, aware that you love playing hard to get.

“What’s what like?” You grunt, shoveling food into your mouth, your eyes never wavering from the TV.

“You know, acting”

“Why do you care?”

“Okay fine. You might as well get this straight. I don’t ‘care’, it’s just that you don’t want to fuck up your interviews now, do you? DO YOU!?”

“Wha..?”

Hah! I’ve got your attention now.

“Oh c’mon, child star, Hollywood movie and all that jazz. They’ll be hounding you with ‘Beta give us a behind the scenes peak’ and ‘what was it like working with Danny’ in their half baked accents and that patronizing tone. If you’re not careful you’ll become a mini Taare Zameen Par kid minus the buck teeth and the inherent retardedness”

You groan.

“What do you want?” you ask, defeated.

“If you had to describe the whole ‘acting in a movie’ experience in one word, what would you say”?

You’ve clamped up now, your eyes riveted to a figure in black biting someone’s head off as blood drips down his mouth.

I’m disgusted but enamored.

I wait.

I’d just about given up on you when out of the blue you murmur “Cheating”.

“What is?” I say, intrigued.

“A movie. You cheat the camera, you cheat the sound and you cheat yourself”

I sit back, amused.

But then again, you are MY brother.

“Like how?” I’m interested.

You smirk. You can see that.

You pause to examine your food, play with the fork, fiddle with the remote.
You clear your throat.

Divine intervention would come in handy at this point. With God on My side. I can just picture this bolt of lightening striking...

“There was this one scene, where I had to shoot a guy,” you start slowly, “and I all I did was hold a gun and point it, the guy wasn’t even there. They added the blood and gore and noise later. I was left standing. Still”

Haha I can just imagine you, this ganster kid, in your ugly floral print shirt and gunji positioning your gun into nothingness.

Even though we knew this already, being on the other side does kinda hamper your fantasies and let you down. Now you know for a fact that The Empire doesn’t strike back and the Mean Girls aren’t mean and the Power Rangers are just teenagers in boiler suits and make up.

I feel cheated.

You continue to eat, like you don’t care, feet on the table, spiked hair defying gravity and arrogance borne from ‘been there, done that’.

“How are you cheating yourself?” I question, “It’s just ‘acting’, right?”

“When you play someone else, you tend to lose yourself in your character. Which is why you have boundaries and draw lines but sometimes, to find the character, you need to become him. And all that make up..”

You turn to face raised eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and kick me.

I scream like I’m being murdered.

No one bats an eyelid.

They’re used to this.

“So anyway,” I say, getting back, “does this mean you’re going to roam around dangerously calling everyone chut and tormenting innocent girls”

..hmm..sounds like someone I know. Oh right. You.

You laugh.

Acting is all about pretending, isn't it?

Someone once told me, if you pretend long enough, you might just fool yourself into thinking it's true.

Dangerous territory.

And you?

Naahh..you got me to watch over you.

Your big sister, your secret keeper.

And you're the one who taught me how to lie...

Comes in handy, doesn't it?