It was the fag end of a year in college and we were enacting a popular play for the college day celebrations. Since I was in a woman’s college, two of us including me had breech parts, meaning man’s role…I was in a modern role, so was to wear onstage a pair of jeans and a T shirt and had no problem getting proper costume. I just borrowed them from my brother (my mother wouldn’t hear of my wearing jeans and short tops to college then). The other gal was to dress in a dhoti and white shirt, which someone offered to bring, so that too was taken care of, or so we thought.

We packed up all the D day dresses in a suitcase and didn’t bother about a dress rehearsal, although the teacher in charge did warn us we would have trouble if we didn’t do it at least once on stage in full costume. The D day, and we were all in the green room, wearing false moustaches and beards and all that, and finally went to wear the costume.

Each of us were given a plastic cover holding our costume and asked to change.  All of us disappeared into classrooms close behind the stage which was functioning as makeshift changing rooms. In a few minutes, the other “breech role” gal’s voice piped up above the din…’Hey! You haven’t given me all the items…’ The team leader shouted back struggling with her choli at the same time, “yes! Everything is there; you have a white dhoti, a white shirt and a white towel, right?” “Yeah! I have, but where is the underskirt (sari petticoat) to wear under the dhoti?” There was a shocked silence and a burst of laughter.

Unfortunately, the mike operator had chosen that time to switch on the mike and the audience had the full benefit of the dialogue…

The tailpiece of the story is that the breech part player refused to go on stage with ‘nothing under the dhoti’ and finally we had to make a last minute purchase of property…a white underskirt….not to say of the shouts of laughter that accompanied the actor’s appearance and our tragic play went on to make the audience split their sides.