New Dramatic Monologue for Male (or female) actors: "Abhay and the Banana," from For My Silent Sisters

Check out my newly released free dramatic monologue for a male (or female) actor, "Abhay and the Banana," excerpted from my full-length play, For My Silent Sisters.

As a teenager living on the streets of Mumbai, Abhay is "rescued" by the owner of a brothel, who begins grooming Abhay to work at his brothel. Abhay has not had a home or reliable meal since he was 4-years-old, so he appreciates a modicum of stability, yet he's conflicted as he learns he has moved from one horrific circumstance to another.

In this monologue, Abhay relives, to the audience, the moment he loses his mother and home, and what that means to him and his baby sister.

ABHAY (out)

I’ve had two people I loved. And two people who’ve died. I never met my dad, if you can call him that. Some man that got my mom pregnant. A different guy got her pregnant again two years later and gave me my sister. I never met him either but I owe him—‘cause he gave me Purnima.  My mom was always warm, right up until the end. Always kissing my forehead, stroking my cheek with her hand, calling me baby, when she was just a kid herself. She had me when she was 14. She wore dark purple nail polish. It almost looked black. I liked the smell of it, like strawberry. Her bracelets would jingle when she hugged me and she told me I gave her the best hugs in the world. I believe it too because she was surrounded by some real bad people. She never even got to turn 20. She died of tuberculosis when she was 18. My baby sister was two. We got no family, no friends that would stick around and raise two bastard kids. Only took a day before some crazy men took over the hut she’d somehow managed to get for us. They said it was theirs. But I knew they were thieves, but I’m four so what can I do. One guy throws me a banana as he kicks me out. I ask him for another one. I got a baby sister, I tell him. He sorta laughs and says it back to me like I’m the two-year-old. “You got a baby sister, do you? Well then, she probably wants it all mushed up, huh?” And he grabs the banana and steps on it. The banana smushes out of its peel, his dirty black shoe getting all over it. I curse at him and walk away. I don’t want his damn banana anyway. But by the end of the day, when we’re cold, and it’s raining, and we don’t have a thing to eat, I kick myself for not scraping it up from the ground. Purnima’s crying ‘cause she’s hungry and she could be eating that banana.
Click to download the free pdf of "Abhay and the Banana."