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| 16th December Victory Day Play By Birampur ICT School |
From Audience Member to Accidental Director: My Adventures in Staging a Victory Day Theatre Play
The Genesis of a (Perhaps Slightly Delusional) Dream
Alright, let's talk about "Displays." Not the kind you find in a museum, mind you. In Bangladesh, particularly around Victory Day on December 16th, a "Display" is… well, it's a spectacle. Imagine a theatrical performance, on a grand scale, outdoors, with a cast that would make Cecil B. DeMille proud. It's part history lesson, part musical, part interpretive dance, and always, always intensely patriotic.
For years, I, Enayet Ullah Elite, was a loyal audience member, and occasional participant, in these Displays during my time at Birampur ICT School. I waved flags. I wore costumes that itched. I might have even tripped on stage once or twice (or thrice). But I always thought, "Hey, I could do that. I could create one. I could direct one of those."
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| Enayet Ullah Elite (In Black Coat) Performing In a Play On Victory Day 2019 |
Fast forward to my post-graduation October. Armed with the boundless confidence that only a freshly-minted tenth-grader can possess, I approached my old school with a proposition: Let me direct this year's Victory Day Display. I had the time, you see. And a head full of ideas that involved elaborate storyboards, a killer soundtrack (painstakingly curated by yours truly), and a narrative that spanned decades of Bangladeshi history.
They Said Yes (and My Descent into Beautiful Chaos Began)
To my utter astonishment, the school committee agreed. Maybe they admired my audacity. Maybe they were short on volunteers. Or maybe they just wanted to see what kind of glorious train wreck a teenager with zero directing experience would produce. Whatever the reason, I was in charge.
What followed was a whirlwind of activity that could only be described as organized chaos. We had a mere ten days to pull this thing together. Ten days! Recruitment involved a combination of enthusiastic volunteers and strategically deployed guilt trips. My school helped me a lot in this process. I, naturally, turned to the digital realm, creating a sprawling online database – a testament to my faith in the power of spreadsheets – to track our actors, dancers, props (so many flags!), and our rapidly dwindling budget. We even had backup plans, because when you are dealing with school kids, you learn to expect the unexpected. I learned to expect that a lot.
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Herding Cats, or, The Art of Rehearsal
I divided our ragtag team into groups, appointing leaders based on who seemed least likely to stage a coup. Then came the task of explaining my vision: a five-minute theatrical journey through Bangladesh's history. We'd start with the Language Movement of 1952, touch upon the major milestones, and culminate in the glorious victory of 1971, all set to a soundtrack guaranteed to stir the soul (and possibly rupture eardrums).
Rehearsals were… a learning experience. Let's just say that getting a large group of teenagers to reenact a war of independence with the appropriate gravitas is not for the faint of heart. There were creative differences (apparently, not everyone shared my enthusiasm for interpretive dance to represent national unity). There were costume malfunctions (safety pins are a director's best friend). There was even a brief but intense debate about the proper way to portray a surrendering Pakistani soldier (method acting, it turns out, is not always appreciated in a school setting). I kept giving them feedback, we kept practicing. We started practicing separately, then we started practicing together.
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| A part of my amazing team: The Pakistani Military Group, Helpers |
Victory Day, or, The Triumph of the Human Spirit
December 16th arrived with the subtlety of a marching band. The field was packed with over 3,000 spectators. More than 30K were live watching us on the local television channel. Backstage, amidst the controlled chaos, I had a brief moment of existential dread. What had I gotten myself into?
But then, the music started. And something magical happened.
Those kids, those wonderful, slightly awkward, incredibly dedicated kids, they pulled it off. They brought history to life with a passion and energy that surprised even me. They danced, they acted, they emoted (sometimes a bit too much, but hey, it was heartfelt). The audience was captivated. Even the teachers looked impressed (or maybe they were just relieved it wasn't a complete disaster). We even managed to get over 375,000 views on our YouTube video, which you can check out right here:
We Didn't Win, But We Didn't Disgrace Ourselves Either (and Other Lessons Learned)
We came in second. Second! In the region! Not bad for a bunch of amateurs led by a guy who, a few weeks earlier, was probably more concerned with passing his math exam than directing a theatrical production. The school received a significant cash prize from the government, a testament to our hard work (and their relief that we hadn't accidentally set the field on fire). And they even paid me. Actual money. For doing something I loved.
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| Me at 10th grade, Volunteering at another event with a similar face I had In the main day event |
So You Want to Direct a Display? Here's My Unsolicited Advice (and a Few Hard-Earned Truths)
So, you've been bitten by the directing bug? You think you have what it takes to wrangle a cast of hundreds (or, you know, a few dozen enthusiastic teenagers) into a performance that will bring an audience to its feet? Well, hold onto your hat, because it's a wild ride. And here's what I learned from my little adventure in the land of amateur theatre:
Passion Trumps Experience (Usually)
Look, I'm not going to lie. Experience helps. Knowing the difference between stage right and stage left, or understanding how to properly light a scene without blinding your actors – that stuff is useful. But I had zero experience. Zip. Nada. What I did have was a burning passion for the project, a vision that, however hazy, I believed in with every fiber of my being. And sometimes, that's enough to get people on board. People are drawn to enthusiasm like moths to a flame. If you believe in your vision, if you can articulate it with enough conviction, even if that conviction is occasionally punctuated by nervous laughter and wild hand gestures, people will follow you. They might be skeptical at first, sure. They might even think you're a little bit crazy. But passion, my friends, is contagious. It can inspire people to do things they never thought possible. It can turn a group of ordinary students into a surprisingly competent theatrical troupe. Don't underestimate the power of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. It can move mountains, or at least, get you a second-place trophy in a regional competition.
Organization is Your Sanity (Thank Goodness for Google Sheets)
Let's be honest, directing a large-scale performance is basically organized chaos. You've got actors, dancers, costumes, props, music, lighting, and a million other details to keep track of. Without a system, you're sunk. Seriously, embrace the spreadsheet. Google Sheets became my lifeline, my digital command center. It's where I tracked everything: contact information, rehearsal schedules, prop lists, budget allocations (which, let me tell you, disappeared faster than free snacks at a cast party). I learned to use the internet to make my life easier. Learn to color-code, folks. Learn to love formulas. Learn to appreciate the sheer, unadulterated power of a well-organized spreadsheet. It will save your sanity, or at least prevent you from having a complete meltdown on opening night. You can also use project management apps or software to keep track of everything.
Delegate or Die (Figuratively, of Course)
You can't do everything yourself. You're a director, not a superhero (although, after pulling off this Display, I felt a little bit like one). Trust your team, even if they seem a little clueless at first. Give people responsibility. Let them take ownership of their roles. This was a tough one for me, because I had such a specific vision in my head. But I quickly realized that my vision was just a starting point. The real magic happened when I let go of control and allowed my team to contribute their own ideas and talents. Find people who are good at things you're not. Need someone to handle costumes? Find the kid who can sew like a pro. Need someone to organize the music? Find the student who spends all their free time making playlists. Delegating isn't a sign of weakness; it's a sign of strength. It's about recognizing that you're not alone and that you are stronger together.
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| A part of my amazing team: Dancers, Bengali Key Figures, Helpers |
Improvisation is Key (Especially When Things Go Wrong)
And they will go wrong. Guaranteed. Costumes will rip at the most inopportune moments. Actors will forget their lines (or invent entirely new ones). The sound system will decide to take an unscheduled vacation. Props will mysteriously disappear. You'll have to deal with unexpected rain, uncooperative animals, and the occasional case of stage fright so severe it borders on catatonic. The key is to not panic. (Okay, maybe panic a little, but do it quietly, backstage, where no one can see you.) Be prepared to think on your feet and find creative solutions. Embrace the unexpected. Sometimes the best moments in a performance are the ones that weren't planned. Duct tape can fix almost anything. And if all else fails, just remember: the show must go on. Even if it goes on in a slightly different, more chaotic way than you originally intended.
It's About the People, Not Just the Performance
Look, the applause is great. The prize money is even better (especially when you're a broke recent graduate). But at the end of the day, those things are fleeting. What truly matters, what you'll remember long after the curtain falls and the set is struck, are the connections you made with the people involved. The shared struggles, the inside jokes, the collective sense of accomplishment after weeks of hard work – that's the real reward. It's about the journey, the camaraderie, the shared experience of creating something meaningful, something bigger than yourselves. It's about the friendships forged in the crucible of rehearsals, the bonds strengthened through shared adversity, and the joy of seeing your vision come to life through the efforts of a dedicated team. Those are the things that will stay with you, long after the applause fades away. Cherish those moments. Cherish those people.
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So, there you have it. My improbable journey from a flag-waving extra to a (somewhat) successful director of a Victory Day Display. It was messy, it was stressful, it was utterly unforgettable. And who knows, maybe I'll do it again next year. But first, I need a long nap. And maybe a new storyboard. And possibly a therapist. But most importantly, I learned that anyone can achieve anything if they set their mind to it. You just have to work hard and never give up.
Elite Enayet, over and out. (For now.)