Author: April Twelving.
24-10-2011 13:44:51
Miss April’s first encounter with Shakespeare was when she was a girl whose juncture of age was no more than that of which a child would have just evolved from the phase of skimming through picture books for the basic means of trifle education and entertainment. It was her father who had introduced him to her; he had bought her a cheap version of an abridged copy of “THE TEMPEST”. To say frankly, for a little girl of that age who only had awareness and familiarity of the standard Indian names and vistas that Miss April had been so used to, she took to reading the book which was filled with rather strange and vivid pictures of its characters with relish as she honestly found them and their names quite funny. Miss April still couldn’t put a finger on what its plot was even after reading—she should rather say ‘skimming’ as that is what she used to do back then—it a fair few times. But maybe after a year or so after that, she did fully grasp the contents of the plot and used to cogitate upon every scene in it that she found to be quite intriguing.
Time flew by, Miss April grew up and there was not once when she even threw a second glance at the book except for those times when she would dust off her book shelves to restyle them, stacking all the novels she had acquired by then in order, by size and personal preference just to please her parents, to show them that she could at least take good care of those books which they had bought for her upon her vehement outbursts for more books. But all that time, she was constantly mindful of the fact that Shakespeare was very famous and that he was associated with everything in that which literature partook. She had known that he was from a medieval period of time—though not a very early time—as she had read the infinitesimal amount of information that had been presented for his profile in the Preface part in the book her father had bought her.
By the time Miss April was in high school, people around her were convinced that she had developed this ‘queer-according-to-them’ penchant for poring over thick volumes of novels or books whenever she could get her hands on one. That is something she doesn’t quite understand—just because Miss April tends to appreciate the flavour of those novels which people don’t, that doesn’t give them any damn right to either comment about or mock her for it, people should just shut up and mind their damn businesses which they make a wreck of instead of poking their noses and almost everything else into what insightful venture she tries to undertake. If not being encouraging, they should at least stop with their trivial dictum.
So it didn’t really surprise her classmates when Miss April used to always read an old version of “THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE” which she happened to chance upon in the non-popular, crumbling corner of the poor excuse of a library in her old school. By the looks of it, she could easily gather that not many people had even strayed by the book—Indian kids just love to scratch away at any good book or object they happen to lay their hands upon—as this book was in a pretty good shape without any doodles in any of its pages, except for its battered form because of the flow of time it had been subjected to. Back then, Miss April’s class had had to study just an overview of the play “THE MERCHANT OF VENICE” in their English class. So as she was really curious as to what content the unabridged version of it possessed, she used to read the same play from the thick compilation.
They had also studied Sonnet Number xxix, whose translation from what Miss April was able to perceive back then, was quite extraordinary according to her English teacher. The other kids used to blink pointedly while she rambled on with her review of the sonnet. Her teacher was so happy that she had beamed about it to every other teacher in the school who had known Miss April. She used to say, “Those who do not understand the “Shakespearean language” are normal.” Miss April guesses that was meant to point out that she was in contrast from the others: abnormal. But frankly speaking, she had not much trouble with the “Shakespearean language” as her teacher deemed the form of English used in Shakespeare’s works, to be that much of a challenge at all. True, she would occasionally stumble upon many words that she was ignorant of in almost every other page, but that ignorance would be non-existent when she would try to grasp its meaning almost immediately with some form of trusted reference. Miss April gave in to her ignorance and learnt loads from it rather than just slump her shoulders and berate that she was a poor scholar of words and understanding when it came to the English language.
Miss April loved the gentle cadences of speech of Shakespeare’s time and thought she ought to learn more of it. But ugh! Ninth Grade had ended by the time she could finish reading the play and she really was not allowed to spare even second looks at any form of books other than the prescribed schoolbooks when in Tenth Grade. Relentless as she was to conquer more of Shakespeare’s works, she tried to hunt for a complete compilation of his works—just like the one she used to read in the library in her old school…she later came to hear that the copy which she used to lovingly pore over was somehow misplaced or stolen. Miss April was surprised to find herself involved in a heated discussion with the librarian—she would rather it was a fight—about how the woman could be so careless and misgiving about such a piece of treasure! All the librarian could do was hang her head when Miss April told her how much such a copy of the compilation might cost in the local bookstores—figures! That was all the woman cared about; she was constantly fretting over the loss of an expensive book when she could have been mourning the misplacement of a jewel as that. What came out of the search for that book, Miss April never knows to this day as she cares not for those who do not try to even appreciate the flavour and essence a book has to offer. Pathetic fools!
Though Miss April had wanted to acquire a copy of Shakespeare’s compilation more than anything else, it made her frown when she came to know of how expensive they could cost. But by Jove! Lady Luck seemed to have looked over at Miss April when she found a great copy for a very, very low and reasonable price after a few months when she was out with her cousin sister at their favourite haunt of a bookstore.
The compilation was in her possession for about five months in an idle state before she started to mesmerize herself with “A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM” just today. Miss April was intrigued by what Edward, the lead character of the ‘Twilight’ fiction series had said in the novel—either in ‘Eclipse’ or in ‘New Moon’, she does not remember which to be exact—about love while he spoke of it with comparison to A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. Miss April decided to trust the fictional vampire character that was deemed to be a good judge of such things given that he was a century old and delve into reading the play.
Just a few pages into the play and she had already made her way to the kitchen where mother worked, to crow at her about how she felt—‘It’s absolutely amazing, mother! Now I finally get why everyone remarks Shakespeare a real genius. This is just like a long soap opera—there are other plots hidden beneath the main plots—but those which I can keep track of. And the vivid, fantabulous descriptions! Ah, what refreshing scenes they offer me with every word I read aloud!” Miss April’s mother just smiled at her, what knowledge of Shakespeare did she have in her to offer and share some with Miss April? That is something Miss April adores in her mother: she never gives half-baked advices or suggestions. Isn’t it simply much better staying put when you’re not aware of something than stutter over some newly formed assumptions the prideful mind can think of?
Miss April had stopped after just a few pages into the play for she had much academical studying to do for her mid-term examinations in her college. But she is sure that she will come back to start from where she had left off as she is very, very much eager to drown herself into the deeply exciting world the enthralling plot has to offer. But then again, Miss April would not be wrong if she said that she had also quit for the moment as she is very nervous and afraid of how the next turn in the plot might turn out to be—so much for immersing completely in it, ha! Like Miss April said, it has had on her all the effects that she would be crushed with when dutifully engrossed in an interesting sitcom of her choice, just like a soap opera.
Miss April does not really comprehend as to what ending note she should write in here as she cannot but think of only writing further about Shakespeare and his influence on her—beginning words—than put a stop to it in any way. The advent of Shakespeare on her life time and time again in different revelations and periods of time has made Miss April realise the constant changes in her outlook toward things, a different outlook every single time, how she comes to appreciate the distinct essence of everything she comes across and too much more that she could possibly come to know herself and put down in words—Shakespeare is Miss April Twelving’s personal rondo.
