It’s usually a school play, isn’t it? But our now experienced actors (workshops, international workshops and then several performances later…) were to star in this one. I wasn’t convinced, to be honest. It’s too innocent, as innocent as the protagonist Amal’s character. Director DS decided to change Amal’s gender, from male to female. Ok, whatever.
Day of the performance. As I stood at the ticket counter (never in charge, always observing) I was irritated beyond belief. Not only was the place crowded to the brim, more people were coming in and after the play started too. This bugs me, as everyone knows Samahaara plays start on time. This is General Knowledge. But no, you people, yes you people, had to fight with the poor girls at the counter, threaten them, bully them, thrust the money into their reluctant hands and storm in. “I’m watching this play today.” Why, oh why, can’t you wait for a second show? Hmmpphh! And then if that didn’t work, jump the compound walls and sneak into the audience.
But actually, I’m glad you came. I’m glad you conquered, against, much against our will. I’m glad you stood on walls, on the side, pushing and jumping to see the stage. I’m glad at some point, Tagore’s unassuming tale and Samahaara’s production captured your imagination and attention so much you forget it was getting hard to breathe in the crowd. But it was pure magic, wasn’t it? Cynical and irritated, I caught but the last 20 mins and stood gaping, on a very questionable “rock” on the uneven terrain. Amal was pure and innocent, as promised and I spied a small tear in some of the bullies I mentioned. The message is clear-Amal makes her peace and is ready to “journey” from “this world to the next”.
But this was clear to me only in the second show we staged. What caught my attention in this play was how the villagers/characters interact with the audience, suddenly the person next to me is the curd-seller and the watchman appeared out of nowhere. The Fakir left me wanting to somehow, somewhere get hold of one so he can swingggg me around like a doll and put me down gently. Before I get cheesier, let me explain that it looks like a LOT of fun. The standout performance was of course, the headman. The south Indian accent, the mischief and the big heart. Killer combo. Stole your heart.
Yes, they all did. Because, bullies, I saw many of you for the second show. Very polite, arriving 30 mins before time and looking sheepish. You are my favorite kind. The one who wants to watch the show because they just battled with the traffic but returns for a second show because say it-yeah we stole your heart when you were not looking. So did they mine, so did they mine. And I might no longer be the skeptic.
I have a feeling this post, looking back will embarrass me. At which point, I will either delete this or look back and think “Those were the times”. These are really the times, aren’t they? Sigh. One more show, please.