The inevitability of passion: a theatre kid’s POV

People like to throw the word “passion” around a lot. Do you feel passionate about this research topic? How about this internship, this course, etc? Interested? Sure. Passionate? Hmm… How many things can I even be passionate about? What is my passion anyway?

Popular television shows between 2006 and 2010 (from right to left): Sesame Street, Mickey Mouse, Winx Club

Perhaps the answer might lie within my younger self. When I was a kid, I grew up watching Sesame Street, Mickey Mouse, and Winx Club, and many other Tamil shows on Vasantham (local television channel) with my grandma who only spoke Tamil. So was watching TV shows… my passion? But every other kid grows up watching these. How could watching the TV be a ‘passion’ then?

But if I really think about it, what captivated me were actually the “people” who appeared on my TV. How they looked, how they spoke, and just pretty much everything about them. I was a fangirl before I knew what ‘fangirling’ meant.

Growing up with my TV, I picked up a lot of things from it — jokes, vocabulary (from subtitles), gender norms, and probably my personality too. In fact, I was one of those kids that built their entire personality from characters they saw on TV shows. Maybe that is why my very first dream was to be an actor.

Unsurprisingly, I joined the drama club when I started schooling and had lots of fun acting for the next ten years. Throughout my primary and secondary school years, drama had always been just a “co-curricular activity” (CCA). Something extra, outside of academics. Something fun, because I liked to have fun.

And that is why I let go of it after ten years — because as you grow older, you need to be more responsible and have less fun. Since I started junior college (tertiary education), more things started piling up on my plate: preparing for A’Levels, planning out my future, managing health issues, and figuring out just who the hell I was going to be. During this time, the Covid-19 pandemic happened, so whatever little opportunities I had to be involved in theatre vanished too.

So after ten years of being a self-proclaimed actress and “drama kid”, I stepped off the stage thinking it was a natural progression in life — to eliminate the distractions, the stuff that will not help you climb the career ladder and make money.

And it all changed two years ago, when I stepped back onto the stage again. I always thought of my theatre journey as a normal distribution curve, and having reached my “peak” in Secondary Four, I assumed that was it. The end.

My best attempt at a normal distribution curve gone wrong.

Jokes on me, it was not. Later on, in university, what was meant to be a “let’s just take part in a theatre production for fun” turned into a “oh no, I am liking this a bit too much”. I took part in Sangae Muzhangu (pronounced ‘Sung-ay-Mu-zhan-gu’), a biennial Tamil theatre production organised by NUS Tamil Language Society. I was both a playwright and actor in the 2023 edition. In the beginning, it was fun — just like the good old days. Coming up with stories, acting out different characters, laughing my head off with my friends. Over time, the pressure set in, I started getting competitive and upset whenever I was not good enough. (To put things into context, I’m someone who barely cares even when I get a C grade for a module that cannot be SU-ed.) Hence, this was… out of character for me… Why did I care so much?

When I was younger, I liked acting because of my innate attention-seeking tendencies and because well… I could do it. Now in my early twenties, I realised I was not as good as the other actors out there. I was also too insecure to get myself out there in front of everyone. But yet, somehow, I found myself gravitating towards the stage.

I really want to do this. I don’t know how. This will not make me a lot of money. This will only take up more of my time. I don’t see a future here.

At this point, I should probably reveal what I did during my “hiatus” from theatre. For clarity, this was the time between graduating from my secondary school in 2018 where I did drama and 2023 when I participated in Sangae Muzhangu. Even though I decided to get ‘all responsible’, I ended up spending most of my time watching Netflix on my — you guessed it — TV (it makes a reappearance, yes). And I continued to observe the “people” on the TV, the actors — how they spoke, how they walked, how they acted. (Note: I was not even thinking about making acting a career back then; it had just become second-nature to me to watch the actors more than I watch the show itself.)

So after my self-imposed hiatus, I decided to dabble back in drama in 2023 and took interest in a theatre production simply because many of my friends were involved in it. Now this must have obviously rewired my brain because in the next two years leading up to now, I had:

• Entered NUS Stage (English theatre group) and took part in 4 different productions 😌

• Went to 3 different acting auditions (passed 1; failed 2) 😬

• Joined a professional theatre production as a paid actor 😲

• Started to learn to write and direct plays 🤠

…so perhaps my theatre journey could be better defined by an exponential graph instead? Because I do not think I have any intentions of stopping now or in the near future.

While it sounds very “happy-ending-ish” to have finally rekindled with my biggest joy in life and found what I can put the “MY PASSION” label on, pursuing your passion, or dream, or whatever it is that you simply like — can be an awfully scary matter.

I have found my WHAT and my WHY, but the HOW continues to elude me. I have been raised to always take the safer option; by default, I strive to spend my time as efficiently as possible, save and invest as much as I can, and take the path that leads to the most opportunities. As a result, seriously pursuing theatre requires me to confront these ideals which I have been building my entire life upon. Deep down, I still think the probability of being a happy, successful, and financially stable artiste is low.

The irony in this is that I am extremely glad to have finally found something that makes me smile on the inside — but I am also weary thinking about how my passion is not an easy one to pursue. The word “pursue” in itself is a scary word. To pursue means to devote my time and energy to learn, make mistakes, grow, become better, and do better. Not only am I naturally a coward in following my heart, I am also afraid of failure. Failing my exams would make me upset for a few hours. But failing my passion would break my heart indefinitely. My relationship with theatre is beginning to look like a forbidden love story (very dramatic of me, I know).

But at the end of the day, I have to remind myself: my biggest obstacle IS myself.

I am often reminded of my monologue in Lao Jiu, a 2024 NUS Stage production. Towards the end of the play, each cast member (including myself) delivers a monologue about chasing their dreams. While we were still ‘acting’, our dialogues were not mere sentences typed onto a script; they were in fact lines that we uttered during a improvisation session — in other words, they were OUR words.

“I am a firm believer of the idea that life has endless possibilities. My dream is to be free, not to be caged in by society, family, or by myself. Acting is one way I can fulfil that dream. You only live one life. When I’m old and I can’t do shit, I don’t want to be like oh shit! I should have acted in that play. So live your life, go for it. I might not continue acting but I will continue shining in all that I do. And that’s what I hope for all of you.”

By the time I delivered my monologue at the end of the play, almost every actor including myself was in tears. Were they tears of regret? Or maybe fear? Mine were tears of relief. Relief that I had randomly decided to join a drama club in my twenties. Relief that I found something that makes me feel alive, excited, and terrified all at the same time. Relief that I had finally connected with my own emotions after all these years, and with myself.

The play, “Lao Jiu”, performed by NUS Stage ends with all the cast members — some crying, some smiling — forming a single, massive group hug as confetti falls from above them.

If you have read till the end, you would have guessed that I do have a passion after all. And it has always been acting.

Now that I have put it out there, there is no more turning back. Not when I have barely gotten started. I did say I consider my theatre journey as an exponential graph. But we never know what the future holds. Maybe it will end one day. Maybe I will give up one day, or find a new passion.

But for now, the stage awaits.