:: Cyrus Broacha

My days as the lost continent...

Cyrus Broacha

As a man destined to make his mark in cinematic history I have played many roles. Many great roles. Out of the ones that have really turned cinema on its head, I nominate my role as a green turtle, a 74-year-old washer lady and a pineapple that sings old K.L. A songs as my greatest work. Roles that are unparalled in the whole history of roles, surpassing even Macbeth, Hamlet and the dog that played Benje.

However, I’m now embarking on my most scintillating cinematic journey as yet. In this particular film I play a young man (a role, I may add I’ve never played before) in a fat suit. Don’t get me wrong, by fat suit I don’t mean a woollen suit worn by Bollywood heroes in the deserts of Rajasthan. In fact it’s a suit that makes one look fat. This brings me to three conclusions:

A. The filmmakers don’t think I’m fat.

B. The filmmakers can’t see.

C. The filmmakers must be really fat, themselves.

You see, I’ve been called many things in my life such as Baboon, Neanderthal, Primate and Sarojini, but never thin. On the first trial for the fat suit, my wife lovingly said she couldn’t make out any difference. That brought us to trial number two. By trial number three I had progressed to the size of a Grand Piano.

By fat suit trial number four I had grown to a convocation hall, by fat suit trial nu-mber five I was being heralded as the missing Continent.

Fatness has its own ups and down. Literally. You see, once put on, I could only look up and no longer could look down. People also seemed to change around me.

Glum middle aged men, who normally would never smile at the likes of me, would now laugh hysterically, like hyenas in heat, as they imagined me jumping through hoops of fire or swimming the butterfly in just a thong, or worse till being turned away from a buffet, by a panicky host.

Beautiful women who normally are afraid that the likes of me would try to jump them, now would enthusiastically invite me along. Clearly safe in the knowledge that by the time I remove my clothes, Obama would have completed a second term in office. There would be peace in West Asia, and maybe just maybe Pakistan would have a government.

Children who normally look to me suddenly would hide their ice-cream cones, gulp down their soft drinks and sit on their tiffin boxes in a determined show of strength and inflexibility. Groups of people discussing sports would speak in hushed tones if I passed them by.

Words like diet, good fit, exercise, skipping, jumping, running and especially figure skating would now not be used around me. The fat suit had altered general perception. At restaurants I’d be treated like a true professional. Diet drinks would be offered, sugar sa-chets and butter slices re-moved in a hurry. The words "low fat" and "sugar free" would be on offer with knowing sympathetic glances.

Yup it’s the role of a lifetime, the biggest role ever. In fact, if not for Lalbaugcha Raja, I would be the biggest guy in town.