Driven: What Must I Do?

Warning: Rather lengthy post ahead without pictures. Read at the risk of falling asleep.

***********************

There is a great sense of accomplishment when one has successfully managed to pull off an incredible feat, say, scaling Mount Everest with neither the aid of an oxygen tank nor a Nepalese shepard. However, the feeling that comes from watching one's kin accomplish that very feat is something totally different. It's overwhelming, not like the one in my previous entry, mind you. And that was the very feeling which overcame me seeing my brother a few nights ago.

Of course, he did not just come back from scaling Mount Everest with neither the aid of an oxygen tank nor a Nepalese shepard. But still, his spine-tingling performance in the annual AIKOL Mock Trial was something the whole family could be proud of.

Titled "Driven: What Would You Do?", the mock trial was about a secondary school student - played by my brother - charged with the murder of his schoolmate. I've never been to a mock trial before, so I wasn't aware that the whole affair was going to stretch close to three hours. But my, wasn't it an enjoyable three hours. It was like watching a live movie. I now understand why there were so many courtroom dramas during the 90's - the human drama ever-so-elegantly laced into the legal proceedings are just so engaging.

The show started off with a gimmick where my brother was pushed and kicked down the stairs leading to the stage by a group of boys who then proceeded to challenge the audience to 'come and save this loser'. And though it was merely acting, I did not dare go up to my brother and offer him a plaster, for fear of being pushed and kicked down the stairs like him.

After that, we were introduced to the setting for this year's trial. The story goes that the accused (my brother) was a long-term bully victim, with the aggresors being none other than three of his classmates, one of which was a girl. Ah, splendid. That brought back some personal memories. Anyway, one morning, the bullies had gone too far and the accused snapped there and then, driving a rusty army knife into the back of one of them and injuring the other two. And thus, the brother was tried in court, being represented by two pretty ladies. Hey, that's not fair, is it?

My parents had already told me that the crew had been practising for three months, and from my observations, all their hard work was reflected in every facial expression and gesture that they made. They were all really convincing, from the 40 plus, still single Judge right down to the non-stop smiling bailiff, who happened to be a VIP's daughter. (Note to self: I thought bailiffs were supposed to be gruffy men with hair slicked back using pomade and handlebar moustaches?)

There was a live band to add flavour to the night, and they did a spectacular job accompanying the witnesses as they made their way across the stage to, where else, but the witness stand. And the witnesses themselves were a plethora of identities with their individual eccentricities. Among the more memorable ones were: the two surviving victims of the assault, a Javanese doctor who's face reminded me of V, and a French doctor who's accent halfway through made her sound like a Middle Eastern professor instead. I think the production crew has a soft heart for doctors. Of course, both prosecution and counsel were convincing too. But the night definitely belonged to my brother, the accused.

The live action was, from time to time, interlaced with video footage, where little by little we get to know the victim and his nightmarish history. I don't mean to blow my own trumpet - or rather, my brother's trumpet - but the he definitely can act, that boy. In fact, I think he did a better job than some actors in a locally produced, 'supposedly medical' drama.
Oooh! That's satire for you. And though I can't prove it, I think my mum cried at the sight of my brother getting bullied. I know a few other girls in the audience did.

Because I'm in the mood for it, I think I'll break up the tension here and continue more of the story (and add pictures) later on. Right now, I've a birthday party to attend. That of the youngest sibling. Happy Birthday Ihsan!