Story Of Mujer

   I'm not very big on watching stuff at Prithvi House. Prithvi House is a black box theatre opposite the main Prithvi Theatre and is a convertible, almost bare space. There's no proper seating, which is a big turn-off for me because I enjoy sitting comfortably when watching anything. Besides, if I'm not completely glued to the performance, I get very restless which is problem when the audience is cramped and seated on the floor.

So of the 15 or so Fringe Performances that happened in my 3 years at Thespo, I saw none..And then, the ones I saw this year virtually took my breath away. 

    

   The first one was called Chenda. The one-man-show was scheduled on a day that another one-man-show (Bhanwar) would wow the audience off. And there couldn't have been a better precedent than Chenda. It told the story of a drunkard street performer, who believes his cow's soul now resides in his musical instrument. Chenda is an instrument made from the skin of a cow's belly. The following guilt, internal conflict and the hilarious struggle were aptly brought to life by a very able Abhinav Grover, who wrote, directed and performed the piece. 

  The Fringe Performances for the next day went a step further. The description given for Mujer was something like this - Six Actresses and One Stage Manager who know nothing about puppetry come together for a puppetry workshop that culminates in a play.

Interesting.

But what happened once the performance started, no words can do justice to. The play essentially speaks what it means to be a misfit, and a woman, in the society. It combined as many Indian languages as possible and the performers extracted stories from their own lives, making the play even more real. Every girl spoke with an odd sort of honesty, that either made you be her or empathize with her.

Poetic, rhythmic and yeI'm on very big on watching stuff at Prithvi House. Prithvi House is a black box theatre opposite the main Prithvi Theatre and is a convertible, almost bare space. There's no proper seating, which is a big turn-off for me because I enjoy sitting comfortably when watching anything. Besides, if I'm not completely glued to the performance, I get very restless which is problem when the audience is cramped and seated on the floor.

So of the 1t somehow a vers libre, Mujer stayed with me for a long time. But I shall come to that later.

I was very curious about how the play took shape. Unfortunately, I had no information on that. Who I did have access to, was one of the six girls, and Theatre Potato's official illustrator - Mati Rajput. Here's her account of the workshop.:

I sat there numb, contemplating whether or not to smile when I heard a whisper, 

"It's going to be all right."

       All right! That's pretty much what my days felt like with her around - all right . I took extra care to reach on time to meet her. You know what it's like living in Bombay! You just tend to get late. But do you know what it's like to be a woman in Bombay?

It was quite tricky, spending 14 days trying to answer this question - 3 crucial hours for two whole weeks working with a director who had no clue about our life styles. (Facilitator Trina Haldar flew in from the UK) What she had brought along with her was a huge roll of paper, a few sketch pens and a Puppet specially commissioned for us. I, along with five other performers and a stage manager tried to put in our keen minds, ears and souls to everything Trina had in store for us. None of us had worked with a puppet before but we were all fascinated by the way she functions. She's made out of recycled paper and GAF tape. The only description Trina had given the designer was that she should fit into all age groups and should look like feminine. 

     The workshop/ Fringe performance was called 'Mujer'. If you haven't already guessed what it means, it means Women in Spanish and it is pronounced as 'Muher'. So all of us decided to name our puppet friend just that. Mujer would often come to life the minute we started to operate her. Having said that, operating her was not a cakewalk. Our puppeteers - Tanvi Sonigra, Urmila and Tanvi Pandit spent quality time going back to simplest ways of living; focusing more on Mujer and her daily routine, etc. Soon, Mujer had become an inspiration for us. In our eyes she was a super hero, an everyday human being who portrayed the lives of our role models. She would fly, swim, dance, breathe. Name it and she would do it! 

‌      Mujer wasn't the only puppet we worked with while building the piece though. Trina taught us how anything can come to life if you let it. We worked with cushions that later became a major prop in our performance. We had minimum props to work with. 4 wooden boxes, 4 print outs of our favorite book covers and 6 cushions. Also, while devising the performance, we had no script in hand. So we asked each other various questions. The fact that we could say anything through this piece made us more diligent about what did we actually want to put across. Not patronizing, not being sexist or for that matter any other -ist. Our only aim was to narrate a beautiful piece about Women. The piece went from one woman to another and Mujer was the thread between us all. We put together various stories of what it has taken for us to 'exist' in minutest ways possible.  

‌    Mujer has been one of the most memorable and greatest experience of my life. It has also turned me into a creep that eavesdrops on other people's conversations while commuting. All thanks to Trina! She would teach us various exercises, acquaint us with her experiences and would ask us to make crucial decisions. I can proudly say that confused individuals like us are very much capable of at least making decisions today. Good, bad, ugly, doesn't matter. Apart from that, Mujer has helped me discover various things about myself and grow into a much more independent human being. And I'm glad that the brilliant minds I've worked with are progressive and put a genuine effort into putting up a show like Mujer. 

‌      I'm grateful to Thespo and Meghana Telang for giving us the opportunity of this international collaboration. It is a very genuine effort by Thespo to make the youth of our country familiar to theatre around the world and everyone who has been a part of these international collaborations has only been happy and learnt something new and different. 

‌    What we have discovered through Mujer is that We're all works in progress and we're just as strange as you! Now go follow Mashi theatre and check out Trina Haldar's amazing work on social media. 

Over to you Kalpak. 

- Mato 

(Theatre Potato)

 For a good week after Mujer was performed, people were still talking about the piece and particularly the puppet. There's a part in the play when Mujer goes to four of the girl, puts her hand on their heads and gently caresses them. I can only reckon that; that is the most comforting thing in the world. Special shout out to the puppeteers for that one.

And then about 15 days post the festival, we met Thespo loyalist Kashin Shetty at Prithvi. He had just finished performing his own play and was taking in the shower of compliments, but the first thing he did when he saw Mati was congratulate her for Mujer. I suppose that says it all.

As for my love/hate for Prithvi House, maybe I can convince Thespo to put on the Fringe Department next year?

The Invisible Mediator

(Prachi Bhagwat is a History student, currently studying Gender Development in Pune. She's just as big a fan of Natak Company as I am and I sometimes suspect that's the biggest reason she moved to Pune. She was also one of the Festival Directors for Thespo 17 and is a regular at Prithvi. A very aggressive debater, sometimes slightly annoying, she's also a very good friend.)

A new, unusual play by the name of White Rabbit, Red Rabbit has generated interest and curiosity in the widely popular Marathi theatre circuit in Pune. The play happens to be written by Nassim Soleimanpour, a playwright of Iranian origin and its translator is a 22-year-old who could be mistaken for a regular college going boy in the city of Pune. Siddhesh Purkar in a short span of time has made his mark as a promising young playwright with plays like Patient in 2009, Kabadi Uncut in 2013 and his latest offering ‘Item’ among numerous other projects. An offer by QTP- a Mumbai-based theatre production company who are the co-producers of the play in its Pune run along with Natak Company and Aurora Nova, saw him take on the role of a translator. What many might assume to be a daunting task for a 22-year-old, Siddhesh saw the offer as a wonderful opportunity and grabbed it with both hands. For him, translating the play was indeed a great opportunity but not as much as an exciting challenge. Of course, the excitement stemmed from getting a chance to assume a new role but also owing to the unique nature of the play- if you could buttonhole it by calling it that. 

White Rabbit Red Rabbit tells a story about social conditioning and obedience, challenging and breaking norms about what a conventional show in the theatre should be like while commenting on societal norms through the show making for a genius of a juxtaposition. The surprises don’t stop just there. The actor must know nothing about the show, should not have read the script beforehand and must be given the script on stage for the very first time. Apart from a few instructions by the writer, a day prior to the performance, the actor knows close to nothing about what to expect on ‘show day’. This makes it but obvious that the show can  be performed by a particular actor just once.  Moreover, the design of the play  also challenges the audience about what an evening at the theatre should be and feel like. 


When , Kalpak- who runs this blog, asked me to go speak with Siddhesh about what the process of translation had been like, both Kalpak and I exchanged exhaustive Whatsapp voice notes about what the complexities and subjectivities of translating a play could be. We spoke of cultural references, audience-specific concerns and much else that made us feel intelligent and as we would later realise, did little to help. I went armed with my list of seemingly intelligent questions only to realise how simply and joyfully Siddhesh had taken this on. The version that is being performed to nearly packed theatres was ready in the very first draft. A narration to the producers of the show, which read to them like a fourth or fifth draft, was approved and was good to go with a few changes. 

Sai Tamhankar

There did, of course, exist challenges and things to keep in mind while engaging with the text and translating it. The play employs a generous usage of symbolism and it was important to enter the mind of Nassim Soleimanpour, as it were, to be able to begin the process of translating the text. Once Siddhesh was sure he knew what Nassim was talking about, the translation took just about a week to be completed and was duly presented.

 Another concern was that of language. A number of translations are often produced of a single play but the play is most probably remembered in countries that don't speak the language of the playwright by just one version of the many extant translations. The other forgettable versions are often clinically approached, translating word for word without much thought about differences in cultural references and formality or informality of language among other concerns. A corollary to this concern was that of the expectations of Pune’s theatre going audiences and how the radical design of the play could be made palatable for those audiences who were used to what Siddhesh believes is the run-of-the-mill Marathi play. Audiences in most places prefer to recede into the shadows and assume the role of passive spectators to the action on stage. Because this was not to happen in White Rabbit Red Rabbit, the language of the show had to be crafted so as to break the ice in the first few minutes and acclimatise the rather stiff audience members for what was to ensue. The fact that the show was to be performed in classic proscenium styled venues in the city made things tougher.However, that some audiences come out of the theatre confused about what they just experienced is not a cause for worry for Siddhesh. That most of these confused audience members wait back to speak with Siddhesh and ask questions about the play and its message is proof enough that the play has struck a chord with the audiences in the city. That is enough to satisfy the young writer.  

Atul Pethe after WRRR

One would imagine that the translator must undoubtedly have exchanged numerous notes with Nassim, the writer of the play on tackling issues during translation and other concerns that Nassim might have. I, at least, did. Surprisingly there seems to be no significant  record of correspondence between the two. The process of translation comes across as one with no interference allowing him complete freedom to tell the story in Marathi while also enjoying the process. Having completed his work on White Rabbit Red rabbit, his mind, evidently, is on his forthcoming projects of which he talks animatedly. His new play 'Item' is a commentary about women in the show-business and the agency they possess over their bodies and sexuality. That 'White Rabbit Red Rabbit' is described by The Guardian to be a universal hit and the fact that it has been performed by the likes of Wayne Brady, Josh Radnor and acclaimed actors in Marathi theatre and films like Atul Pethe, Mukta Barve and Sai Tamhankar, seems not to be the foremost thought on Siddhesh’s mind. He seems almost unaware of his genius. The playwright Christopher Hampton once said that the best translators remain as invisible as possible. Siddhesh remains comfortably invisible.  





(Book tickets for the next show of Item here: https://ticketees.com/dramas/item/
and for White Rabbit Red Rabbit performed by Jitendra Joshi: https://ticketees.com/dramas/white-rabbit-red-rabbit/)

Inner Sanctums

K-25, Hauz Khas

I sit in front of a modern building,
With modern balconies and modern bricks,
Far removed from the alphasexual hub that Hauz Khas is.
A building with no particular significance,
So much so that as I perch myself on the footpath in front of K-25,
All watchmen from the building there look at me in wonder,
With heavy bouts of judgement.

"They don't know" I say to myself.
I wish I could go ask them if they know,
But instead I set the cancer stick between my fingers on fire,
And resort to the only form of escapism I know - poetry.

"Ek budhiya chaand pe baithi",
Gulzar starts speaking,
And soon enough he's convinced me to dissolve all sounds around me and listen to the rhythm of her charkha.

Now here's the thing about poetry,
It's just a step away from schizophrenia,
For your mind will make you believe in things, that even your mind knows don't really exist.

Now here's the thing about love,
It's just a step away from schizophrenia,
For your mind will make you believe in things, that even your mind knows don't really exist.

But as I sit in front of the modern building,
With modern balconies and modern bricks,
I'd rather embrace the mental disorder that is both love and verse,
For where it stands, once stood
The moon the budhiya sat on.

K-25, Hauz Khas
Is where Amrita Pritam lived.

I see an Imroz stand there,
Present for the demolition of the old house,
And the demolition of a billion mixed feelings, of extreme pain and extreme peace,
Feelings that I project on him, really.

I see an Imroz stand there and try to see what he could have,
An Amrita ascending the modest throne of the backseat of his scooter,
Him almost anticipating the touch of her fingers on her spine, carving out his own 'manchaahi' death;
An Amrita getting in and out of a car for her visits to the doctors,
An Amrita in a window to a house always open to all Punjabi poems,
An Amrita that left the house her last time, to never return
And yet somehow do,
In her logically impossible and yet completely truthful promise
Of 'Main tainu phir milangi'

"Ye kiss sadi ke log hai, shabbo"
I ask the friend who sits next to me,
And we proceed to use her 2G and look at a YouTube video of Rani Mukherjee,
Mouthing her questions about Veer and Zaara,
That very well could be about the spirits in this place.
The spirits that were once flesh and blood,
The embodiment of breaking every belief we have about love,
That relationships need to be named,
That love needs to be reciprocated for fulfilment,
That a man and woman can't have a relationship if it isn't named,
That marriages are the only happy endings,
That Imtiaz Ali potrays 'crazy' more often than 'in love',
That love can only happen once,
That you're a particular age and then you're another age and you can only be of one age once,
That men and women feel differently,
That men and women behave separately,
That men and women love in varied ways.

A phone rings, we have to go.
"You can leave your cigarette halfway", my friend tells me. "It would be the perfect tribute."
The sticks nearing it's end,
But the sacrifice is too easy,
The perfect tribute would be a poem,
But ink no longer falls from a pen the speed of ash from a cigarette,
But I stub it none the less.

We get up, then I sit on my knees,
And touch the ground that has nothing in common with the house that lived here, but still manages to exist in the same spectrum called space,
And promise to better the poet I am, who have nothing in common with the fairy who lived here, but still manages to exist in the same spectrum called words, and on an after thought, a birthdate.

The watchmen continue to look at me like crazy,
But the extremes of warmth and cold I feel, the goosebumps on my upper arm,
And the half-burnt cigarette on the footpath there,
Promise not to judge.

The House in Gali Qasim Jan, Old Delhi
AKA Involuntary

My existence is involuntary,
Much like yours,
O friend, father and spirit.
But while mine amounts to knot,
Your lack of choice,
Ornamented by your merit.

I'm a misfit in your lane,
I carry neither stature, nor culture
In a Galli that boasts of rich Islamic heritage,
My T-shirt and shorts are a clownish couture.

I pass by your house,
So hard to find, so easy to miss,
Almost like Delhi's pollution levels
Have dissolved the soul you breathed out,
As your lips touched the Dementor's kiss.

The house is mildly lit,
My excitement is little and lacks any expectations,
I first tread carelessly into a hallway,
I know you aren't home,
I feel some form of guilt,
As I step into your space,
Without your permission.

I've picked quite some from what you left,
O friend, father and spirit
But as I read your words, now on your walls,
I wonder what I inherit

I'm half bent to read the translation,
And there's a little water on my cheeks
Into the house's vacuum, I start muttering the Urdu under my breath
And try to reverberate what the noiseless ambience does speak.

It's then that my head spins right,
Involuntary but almost by fate,
I see your face, you smile at me,
I need to freeze, I need to run,
But the absence of instinct beats faster than my heart rate.

It's not you, just a statue of sorts
Put behind a wall of glass,
Stiff under a poem,
I forgot you never left, Ghalib
I forgot, you were always home.

The tears keep coming down,
I neither sob nor weep,
The silence like it's meant to be,
The silence your heart synced with here, Ghalib
For now is mine to keep.

Scenes from Om Bhutkar's play start whirring,
Lines from Gulzar's book,
There's so much I knew about you already,
And yet for me to finally see you, Ghalib
A beat was all it took.

I keep whispering your lines,
I know neither I nor the translations do you any justice,
Almost like Delhi's pollution levels
Have dissolved the soul you breathed out, Ghalib
As your lips touched the Dementor's kiss.

I now take off my footwear,
And tread on every inch,
Shaken by the realisation of where I am,
My half grown beard is full of salt water now,
I'm neither thrilled, nor calm.

I see bust of you gifted by Gulzar,
And can't help but notice a striking resemblance,
Between your nose and that of my own fathers,
A nose I've always worried I'll receive in inheritance.

Books you sometimes touched,
Clothes that touched you once,
Walls you rested your head against,
Pillars that attempt to take weight of your chest.

My existence is involuntary,
And so is much of your verse
I never knew you and you never knew me and I never heard you talk,
And maybe if I did, I would be too shy and stupid too, and judge me you would;
Either is a curse.

My existence is entitled, Ghalib
Much like your royal birth,
I neither love or drink as fiercely,
Neither have I lost as much.
Then why, Ghalib does your poetry speak to me so,
When this privileged is my sorrow?
Why does your pain feel mine?
Why do I consume your whine?
Why does the dismay feel so real,
And the lack of comfort, a similar ordeal?
Why does my peace feel manipulated,
By a force that you would know,
Then why, Ghalib does your your poetry speak to me so,
When this privileged is my sorrow?

A group of three enters the room,
The sanctity is gone,
I must now leave,
Be the misfit again,
For while now you and I were one,
And while we'll never know each other,
O friend, father and spirit,
Thank you for letting me exist here,
Thank you for letting in your home.

Listicle - Marathi Rangbhoomi Diwas

5 November marks a very special day in the history of arts. It was on this day in the year 1843 A.D. that the first Marathi play was performed in District Sangli of Maharashtra (then a princely state). Created by a man called Vishnupant Bhave, the play was titled 'Sita Swayamvar' and took the first flight of a culture that's still soaring 173 years later!

I don't have a direct connection to the Marathi Theatre scene. I can't even claim to be a tiny dispensable part of it, like I thankfully believe I can with English plays. When I see my peers now actively becoming a part of regional plays and hanging out with actors and directors I have grown up idolising, I can't help but feel a tinge of envy and longing. Which is why it also gives me a sense of joy to have something in common with the man who made the first Marathi play, even if it's something as silly a last name.

Today is 5 November and in honor of the day, since christened Marathi Stage Day, I am going to list 7 things that shaped my love and belief in Maharashtrian Theatre.

1. P. L. Deshpande

This man will probably top most lists I write. The creator of gems like Batatyachi Chawl and Vyakti Aani Valli, he is the master of storytelling and an institution in himself. Narrations of his writing, in his own voice continue to be a constant on playlist. His adaptation of My Fair Lady is something the entire theatre-watching community swears by. Most of my sense of humour and the comfort level I have with my awkward self stems from this man. Earlier this year, I had to colour my hair grizzly and wear a kurta for a play. With my overgrown curly hair, specs and tummy love, the make-up man told me I looked like Pu. La. Deshpande. There couldn't have been a more thrilling moment! If only I could write more like him...

2. Vijay Tendulkar

I didn't discover Tendulkar until a couple of years ago. I first read Sakharam Binder in Hindi and then Ghashiram Kotwal in English but it was only until I saw version of these by Chandrakant Kulkarni that I finally seemed to grasp a little of what that man wrote. I attempted to break down Sakharam Binder to it's core and even managed to pen stuff down but I wonder if I will ever be able to be even a percent of what this man was. If only, if only.

3. Chandrakant Kulkarni

And that brings us to this legend. In my last article, I wrote about watching two of his plays. The very day before I watched Wada though, I watched the masterpiece that is Aashad Bar. The play puts three famous playwrights - Kalidas, Shudrak and Mohan Rakesh in a bar with a fiction fourth playwright. The entire two act play takes place in one Bar and yet somehow Kulkarni manages to paint us a new painting in every frame. His directorial versions of Tendulkar's Sakharam Binder and Silence! The Court Is In Session are both available online and make for a fine watch. The last original he did, Get Well Soon did not do a very long run, but has to go down our history as a modern classic. It wouldn't be an overstatement to say, every piece of work by Chandrakant Kulkarni is a masterclass in direction.

4. Prashant Damle

This list can't go down without a mention of Marathi Theatre's favorite funnyman, Prashant Damle. Damle can give most comedians, actors and singers a run for their money with his chubby adorable self. No matter who he's cast opposite - be it veterans like Vandana Gupte and Reema Lagoo or be it the freshfaced powerhouse Tejashri Pradhan, Damle is sure to set the stage on fire. Not to mention, he holds record for performing the highest number of shows in a lifetime, which sometimes easily go up to four two acts a day.

5. Dharmakirti Sumant, Alok Rajwade and Natak Company

I have only seen two of Dharmakirti Sumant's plays - Geli Ekvees Varsha (The Last Twenty-one Years or The Lost Twenty-one Years) and Binkamache Samvad (Useless Dialogues/ Conversations) but both of these plays will stay with me for the rest of my life. GEV became one of the most celebrated plays in the country, and set a bar which many believe he could not surpass. I've even seen more experienced veterans write him off. But if Natak Nako, Pani and Charoo Aroo Ityaadi are anything like Binkamache Samvad, Sumant is the writer we need, a milestone in writing we don't appreciate enough.

Both Geli Ekvees and Binkamache have been directed by the able mind of Alok Rajwade, fast garnering popularity and accolades for his acting skills in the Marathi Film Industry. His directorial skills however, still feel untouched and unassuming and he shall remain my role model.

Rajwade and Sumant are a part of a group called Natak Company, Pune (The last word might not be a part of the actual name but is very much retained in their identity.) The group is spearheaded by the impeccable Nipun Dharmadhikari. Natak Company is another name for innovation and creativity and a big part of the pop culture of Pune. I have actually witnessed an entire theatreful of audience members say all dialogues WITH actors at a showing of 'Dalan'. And it was magical..

6. Thespo

You can't talk about Natak Company without mentioning Thespo and vice versa. India's premier Youth Theatre Movement is a multilingual affair. Despite being hosted by a company that primarily makes English plays, the last few years has seen the number of Marathi plays exceed the number of English plays at the festival. Other than Natak Company and BMCC products like Dalan, Geli Ekvees Varsha, Kabadi Uncut, Mi... Ghalib and Apradhi Sugandh, it has housed brilliance like Naav, Chitthi, God = Father and Hero. The list of plays scheduled for this December is yet to be announced but I fervently hope that it includes some more exceptional plays from Maharashtra.

7. Spruha Joshi

This name is a little surprising, even to me. Spruha Joshi, who comes from the Mumbai Intercollegiate Community and efficiently flits between movies, television and plays could be an arguable choice in the list, but personally my list would be incomplete without her. I had heard about her for years, from my seniors in college who had seen her killer of a performance in Ananya and more, and from my Mom who has seen Natak Company's Never Mind. I have to admit, I also had a huge crush on her from when she did TV and remember how she took my breath away the one time I saw her backstage after a play.

I first saw her in Hrishikesh Joshi's Nandi - an assortment of ten scenes from landmark plays where she was the main sutradhar but also a part of two pieces and absolutely won the floor in both. I'll go ahead to say that her potrayal of Laxmi from Sakharam Binder in that play came very close to that of Chinmayee Sumeet and maybe even Lalan Sarang (but I haven't seen the latter perform).

There was no stopping to this woman. Her next two roles had a similar description on paper - Samudra and Don't Worry Be Happy saw her play a strong-headed, feministic, working woman. But Spruha Joshi made sure to not even let the shadow of one character fall on the other. One of the things I aim to do in this lifetime, is write a character I can dare to approach her for.

Well, that's about it. My not-very-small listicle. I'm sure there's a lot I've missed out on. But if you think there's something I absolutely must have included, write to me at kalpakbhave318@gmail.com

Or comment below. Or send me your listicle, I would love to feature it!

And Happy Marathi Rangbhoomi Diwas to all of you!!
  

Stories of The Wada

I discovered Elkunchwar about two years ago. Back then, I was wholly trying to be a good student, attending all classes and thoroughly missing Theatre. I even took library classes seriousl, browsing through the bookshelves and in fact those were the only times I felt closer to the world of dramatics than anywhere else in my media school. While most of my friends would pour over photography journals and books about interesting advertising campaigns, I would be secretly worried about how I didn't find all of that interesting enough. It was then that I found a tiny shelf dedicated to Theatre. And Volume II of Elkunchwar's creations. Up until that point, I had little idea of who Elkunchwar was. For those like me, Elkunchwar is one head of the Holy Trinity of Marathi Playwrights and receives a national and international pedestal with the likes of Tendulkar, Badal Sircar and Mohan Rakesh. Some of his plays have also been made into feature films. He writes with the sort of ease that my 18-year-old self found very easy to connect with, unlike Vijay Tendulkar or Satish Alekar whose works I still struggle with, a little.

Now on to Wada. Wada Chirebandi (Old Stone Mansion) is the story of the Deshpande family in _____. 'Wada' essentially means a Bungalow, those owned by upper-class and upper-caste Maharashtrian joint families. This Wada is crumbling under the pressure of it's legacy. The patriarch of the house has died, the oldest daughter in law has assumed responsibility. Her husband is cynical and frustrated, their children well on their way to 'wasting themselves'. The second son is struggling in the city but has become the cause of envy and contempt to the one left behind. The third son keeps away from the clashes and mutely does odd jobs in the house. There's also a daughter, the more intelligent of the siblings, who's been denied education and has rejected matrimony. It's a perfect mix. There's enough baggage floating around the house to ensure strong drama.

I've known enough Deshpandes in my life to have an opinion of them, the namesakes and otherwise. The family is Brahmin, an identity they hold on to, despite the lack of means. And that's exactly what makes the play brilliant. Growing up Brahmin, I have seen my family members reject socialist ideas, right and left (no pun intended). Wada Chirebandi tell me why. It's funny because I watched the play at Dinanath Mangeshkar Natyagriha, Vile Parle East and it goes without saying that most of the audience members were Brahmins. So through out the play, I would keep hearing chuckles and vigorous nods whenever there was a smart jab at the community. But did anybody understand the underlying mockery behind it. I cannot say.

Elkunchwar holds up a mirror to the population of the 1970s. In 2016, the mirror still seems to reflect the same image to newer viewers. Props to director Chandrakant Kulkarni for that. Wada Chirebandi makes you laugh, weep and freeze completely all at the same time.

In the very same day, I also watched the sequel to the play - Magna Talyakathi or The Pond. While Wada ends on a tragic note, Magna picks up 10 years later when everything's changed and yet, still the same. Magna deals with the second generation of the house - a generation that could very well be Gen X or Gen Y. The house has new paint, there's weddings scheduled and the first generation is pretty much sorted. The suffocation you feel in the house is way lesser than before, but the weight of the baggage is constant.

There's a scene in Magna Talyakathi, which takes place next to the titular pond. It happens in the dead of the night, with nothing but soft ripples to be heard. In a voiceover, the protagonist says, "Some times I look at the stars and wonder, could somebody in a far off galaxy be looking back at me, in this very moment?"

Later in the play, the protagonist comes home and says of another character, "I went to the Pond and saw him sitting there, by himself. I turned around and left, for it is isn't a good thing to interrupt somebody's solace."

These lines are of course, loosely translated. But that's how they stayed in my mind. For a week after that, I was stuck at the Pond. I'm going to refer to some old WhatsApp messages which will say what I want to much better for me.

[8/29, 9:04 PM] Kalpak Bhave: Somehow my soul just didn't leave from the pondside
[8/29, 9:05 PM] Kalpak Bhave: I'm constantly thinking of it, missing it, remembering the voice over like I am there at the pond, can't get out, don't want to and disturbed by the fact that I'm actually not.
It's fucked up, right?
[8/29, 9:06 PM] Kalpak Bhave: It's very weird. It's making me sad, I'm longing for a memory of something I've never experienced.

The week after that was my birthday. I left the city, as is fashion now and went to the nearest hillstation of Matheran, only one friend with me. They have a dam there, one I almost didn't go to. And on top of the damn is the reservoir. Almost deserted. So accessible. We sat there for hours, no words, our toes in the water, our bottoms on the little pebbles, inhaling burnt grass.
It wasn't exactly redemption. It wasn't salvation. But I found a pond. And it did me good. The Wada plays will stay with me and so will the pond on my birthday.

Now waiting for Apocalypse.
That's Part 3.

A Quick Look at IPTA 2016

On the morning of 29th October, I hunted through my clothes and pulled out a 5 year old black collared T-shirt. Considering how much I have grown in the last five years (vertically and horizontally), this T-shirt stands at the risk of soon turning into a crop top. But what save grace are the three printed words behind this Tee. MITHIBAI, DRAMA & TEAM.

IPTA (Indian People's Theatre Association) is one of India's oldest theatre organization. For the past 45 years it has been hosting a Hindi Intercollegiate Drama Competition, popularly known as IPTA's ICDC or more simply just IPTA. The IPTA rotating trophies carry a grand legacy and names of all the previous winners are engraved on this trophy. Last year, Theatre Potato's Art Illustrator Mati Rajput won the shield for Outstanding Performance. A couple of years ago, I got the privilege of having my on name engraved on one of the trophies. The names behind these trophies are quite equally divided - some of them now revered as legends and some quite forgotten, people who probably discontinued being a part of the creative world.

So of course I have been going to IPTA every year, to catch five or six fresh plays performed by hundreds like me, stepping nervously into the world of theatre, one play at a time. So here's a look at the 6 plays (+1) that featured this year, the good parts and problems intact.

Purusharth
Performed by Viva College

The play is a 40-minute conversation between two army officers at an army base on whether or not to rape the Pakistani spy they've held captive, with a twist in the end.

The Good Part: The play holds an interesting premise. Both the boys who play Major and Captain respectively, are strong actors with a lot of potential. Both boys were awarded with a consolation prize. Captain, who is hell bent on taking advantage of the captive also gets his fair share of good points.

The Problem: This was IPTA 2016's biggest problem play. What could've been a strong commentary on the rape culture of the day, ends up rather making a joke out of rape itself. Lines said to the captive that loosely translate to "You shouldn't worry about getting raped here. You forgot, this is not your nation, it's India" and "Us Indians, we even force ourselves on others with love" garnered applause from the audience but were enough to leave the sensible citizen shaking their heads.

Blindfolded
Performed by S K Somaiya College

A 17 year old girl meets a 32 year old man online and has sex with him. The man is later revealed to be a serial rapist. Her single father and a woman who's either a police officer or a therapist has to make the girl understand that she's been raped.

The Good Part: In the wake of recent events and success of the film, Pink, consent is a subject of conversation fast garnering importance in the nation. The girl's struggle to understand why her age nullifies her consent, the struggle of her single father to balance between a friend and a figure of authority makes up for good Drama.

The Problem:
The play absolutely fell short in comparison to other plays. It would be quite unfair to call the play amateur  given that college theatre is in a way supposed to be amateur but given the level of competition and the importance of this platform, the play was quickly discarded and with it, it's message.

Kharr-Kharr
Performed by Mithibai College

Kharr-Kharr is a semi-fictional biography of Indian freedom fighter Usha Mehta. It traces her life story from 1928-1947, her early years and her handling of the Secret Congress Radio.

The Good Part:
A tight script, wonderful direction and earnest performances by Mati Rajput, Dharmaj Joshi and some 40 odd other actors brought the play and the era it is set in to life and rightly walked away with majority of the awards. A deviced stagecraft, impactful lights and applause-worthy lines made the one-act a wholesome product. It's also a brave retelling of a Gandhian's tale, in an era where abusing Mahatma Gandhi has become commonplace bravado.

The Problem:
It's harder for me to pick a bone in this play, given my proximity with the team. But with the intention of scrutinizing, I must make two points. Firstly, the attempt to extract laughter by putting a half-abusive line in the mouth of a little boy becomes unnecessary in this otherwise wonderful play. Secondly, there's points where lines in the play tend to lean a little towards cheesy. But then again, that's what seems to work.

#Bheed
Performed by Nagindas Khandwaala College

After a Population Control Policy and a child tax on the second child in a family, the bread earner struggles with the decision to have his wife abort the second child or keep it, amidst much family drama, emotional music, infertile women and anti-abortion messages.

The Good Part: This play belonged to what can called the 'Gujarati Commercial' line of theatre. Walking a tightrope of the Kapil Sharma genre of comedy, the play did end up making its point well. The climax was also a good tight slap.

The Problem: Everything else. Sending out a message against abortions is not what we should be dealing with right now. The old people in the audience might nod their heads in agreement and wipe away a tear or two at the proposition, but what's frightening is that a team or 50 youngsters readily performing this. The play also banked on a bunch of stereotypes to create humour. Matlab chhee, dude.

Shikast-e-ishq
Performed by Pillai College

A young woman's husband passes away on her wedding night. The virgin bride is subjected to solitary confinement and falls in love with her younger brother in-law.

The Good Part: Now I did not watch this one act on the night of IPTA, choosing a plateful of Ideal's tasty Biryani instead. But I did see this one a year earlier at Lokankika and I liked what I heard. What worked for this play was it's melodious Urdu and the performance of the female lead who walked away with the accolades.

The Problem: A bunch of people from a certain community caused a havoc outside Tejpal Auditorium for misrepresentation. I don't know if that's good or bad, really.

Jhoola Dheere Se Jhulao
Performed by Maharshi Dayanand College

A North Indian family is in chaos. Their oldest son is planning on doing something unspeakable and spoiling the family name. They soon discover that what he intends to do is get a Vasectomy done. Further chaos ensues.

The Good Part: I almost missed this and I can't stress on how terrible that would have been. This play turned everything #Bheed stands for on its head. Nuanced performance was it's strongest point. The hilarious arguements were not for a moment senseless. Extremely well written, it had me at the edge of my seat for most of the part. Not once did the play become preachy or unbelievable. So when the climax came and the family dissuaded the protagonist from getting Vasectomized, I sighed with just as much grief as him and his poor wife. The very subtle expulsion of hypocrisy and modern problems in an orthodox setting set the play apart from everything else that happens in Intercollegiate Theatre. The very first words I uttered when the play ended were "Dude, this was Shyam Benegal level brilliant."

The Problem: Tigmanshu Dhulia didn't seem to think the same (He was one of the judges). The play walked away with mostly nothing and certainly much lesser than what it deserved. It was also annoying that so many people around me thought the play was a big bore. I hope this one goes places though.

Dulhan Ka Dil Deewana Lagta Hai
Performed by Dahanukar College

This play did not make it to the finals due to logistical issues but is also one of the best products I have seen in the year. IPTA rewarded it with the Critic's Choice award. I intend to do a separate article on this play and he team behind it but I'm only waiting for the team to get the accolades they deserve in INT and other competitions.

Results:
Mithibai walked with Best Play, Best Writer, Best Director, Best Actor (male) and the very coveted Balraj (Balraj Sahni Trophy for Outstanding Performance).
Nagindas Khandwala took the Second Best Play, MD college stole Best Actor, acting merits, a special award for the Set and another for Costumes.

The judges were Tigmanshu Dhulia, Meghna Malik and Bharat Dabholkar.

Pune, The Arts and Coming Out.

(Tanya Venkateshwaran writes about Coming Out - a new play that opened on 11th September in Pune. Tanya is a law student in ILS, a photography enthusiast and has previously volunteered at Kashish, the Mumbai International Queer Film Festival. She's damn clingy but also equally interesting and very chill.)
 
I've always felt like being myself and "fitting in" will never go hand in hand. It is so hard just to put yourself out there for the world to see you for who you really are. Most of us constantly go through a struggle of drawing a (consensus?) between who we are and what people make us out to be.

Sunday, the 11th of September, I witnessed a combination of theatre, spoken poetry, music and art installations at TIFA Working Studios in Pune. The play was called Coming Out and I had heard about it through friends, one of whom was a part of the performance. I didn’t really go with any particular expectations. I knew this was the first time they were ever performing it. The only thing I knew was that it wouldn’t be 'conventional'; I had already been told. But once I watched the play, one thing I knew for certain, there couldn't have been a better way to spend my Sunday evening.

TIFA Working Studios is a gorgeous place that looks like it could be anyone's moderately sized city home.The space was set up with comfortable seating, fairy lights and with the art installations.There were paintings, and postcards and letters and poems with a personal description of each item. The art installation were pieces of the actors, parts of their life. The performances took place in various cozy corners of the studio. We were told to follow the strumming of the guitar that would lead us to the the location of the next bit.

The play started with a sing along followed by 7 actors, 9 pieces. And then a Q and A session. The pieces spoke of everything from the perception of the society to consent to being comfortable in one's own skin. One of the performers spoke about being perceived as queer simply because he used a pink pencil in school. Another spoke of how she struggled with acceptance and how something as negligible as her hair was what she used as a shield.
I had goosebumbs. This was the first time I was attending something so unconventional. In theory it was a compilation of monologues which aimed at starting a conversation about the LGBTQ community and more. But the best part about it was how honest the whole thing felt.
Was the whole thing scripted? Was it fiction or were they true accounts? We will never because that was the
only question the cast refused to answer. But I had already connected to it on different levels personally.

There's so much that happens in life that you don’t reflect on unless you’re forced to. Coming out does just that. It forces you to introspect. You may not be 'in the closet' but you don't really have to be to connect to either the monologue or to the circumstances or the people that possibly led to it.

 To me it spoke about living and letting live and of celebrating individuality. I was overwhelmed the rest of the evening and through the night. It was only the next day at dawn when I woke up at 4 am, sat
on my bed and cried my eyes out.

Coming Out not only opened to an overpacked house but also saw a surprise second show on the premiere day owing to the overwhelming response. Coming Out next plays on September 16, 8pm at Lost The Plot, Pune.
For tickets click: http://bit.ly/2cXkfyE