Drama Queens, as everyone knows, are people with a tendency to be melodramatic. At least, that’s what an opinion poll will reveal, I believe. Do we ever try and ponder over the ‘why’ of it? (Well, I do, but then, for me it’s personal, you see.) Why do some people feel the need/urge to indulge in melodrama when truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction? (Don’t sue me for using that line – this is not for commercial exploitation!) I suppose a few hundred great psychologists and philosophers have already provided suitable explanations, none of which I’m familiar with. I am, however, familiar with what I think – and I’m sure that all the great thinkers out here will agree with me – well, some will. A few, at least…? 

Melodrama helps you cope with reality. (Yes, it does!) Some people have a sensitive (oh, all right, weak) psyche, and reality is not really gentle…it is beneficial to escape from it once in a while – for the hypersensitive, insecure, prone-to-thinking-too-much, diffident ones, at least. If we don’t get away, we will have a nervous breakdown. All of us are not pragmatic/rational/persevering/tolerant/strong enough to take everything in its stride. When you strike down some people, they stay down – resilience is not, unfortunately, a universal trait. I don’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of if you’re a Drama Queen – I’m quite proud of it. Even the great Sherlock Holmes (I dare you to find a better man than him!) confessed to having a flair for the dramatic. We all have a covert liking for it, I suppose, but decide to ignore it in favour of other (better, higher?) things in life. 

I’ll reveal a secret. Most of the drama enacted by the Drama Queens ought to be taken seriously. They might make light of it, but what they display/let out is the actual truth, and is, most of the time, an extremely painful thorn in their side that’s slowly leeching out their life-blood. Yes, it sounds highly melodramatic, doesn’t it? It is true. 

“You’re such a Drama Queen!” is usually accompanied by a derisive snort or a disdainful expression. Trust me, it hurts, if you’re at the receiving end of the comment. “Yes, I am,” I replied once – rather coldly, but you can’t really blame me for that. The other party burst into peals of laughter. It still haunts me. Ever since, I have refrained from exposing my dramatic side except in extremely cynical or light moments, where it can be safely gotten away with. Side effects? Depression and all that BUNDY business. Of course, angst can make you terribly creative – look at Tagore, for instance. Would he have been that great a writer if he had a happier life? I don’t think so. 

It’s just a way to let out the steam – don’t fault us for that. If you’d rather deal with snivelling, cowering wrecks, go ahead, try and get rid of the drama. Without DQs (sounds cool, doesn’t it? Abbreviations rock!), however, the world’s going to be a barren place. We’re the spices and condiments of life – it’s all going to be horribly bland otherwise.   

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