In Fool View at Goldsmiths College, London

Just posting random thoughts after the In Fool View premier...

Goldsmiths College Green

I quite liked this bit of the college, especially when there was a bit of sun. Which is an event by itself really! Any bit of sun in ol' blighty.

Studio 3

We performed at the studio space. This was the space before we transformed it! I really like the idea that a fairly ordinary room can be made totally atmospheric with the flick of a light switch. And I especially like to have the audience witness that moment of sudden transformation.

Remember that meme about the tape and the ballpoint pen?

Audio tapes, memories, nostalgia... So many of my college memories involve audio tapes. And yes, I am being nostalgic about tapes. As I suppose one generation will miss DVDs one day.

Dani Filth - eat your heart out

This moment really worked out beautifully. Here's to all those Goths at Goldsmiths! I love the colour contrast. I have cheated a bit with the settings on the Canon EOS 550D I am using, but still... this manages to look like a painting...

Yes, the CTB gel works!

Another moody moment.

Kalamandalam Gopi would be proud

This bit was inspired by a moment in a Kathakalli performance, where the 'one chance' is asked directly from the mooladhara!

Great premier

And the premier rocked! Woot!

Response to Zhuangzi

Once there was a butterfly
That dreamt it was a man
Dreaming he was a butterfly.
The man awoke in a daze.
In front of him was a butterfly curling into itself
Turning into a chrysalis from which emerged a caterpillar
Straining upwards with the memory of the butterfly.
The butterfly awoke from the dream, with a heavy heart
And stared at the man asleep, dreaming the memory of the butterfly…

The same breath - the intersection between martial arts and theatre

I recently met a martial artist who had spent the last 17 years in Japan training his art. What was especially interesting about this artist was that he was also a street performer, calligrapher and potter. While his mastery of the martial art was exceptional, what was even more exceptional was the nature of his street theatre routine. It involved riding a 10-foot unicycle, while juggling chain saws! The circumstances through which his artistic evolution occurred were also profoundly insightful. Once while in training the artist faced a situation where weapons were being thrown around at adversaries and he was struck by how this seemed to be very much like juggling. Another time he saw the handling of concealed weapons and was prompted to investigate sleight-of-hand tricks and magic. On yet another occasion the study of swordplay brought him to the study of calligraphy. In all instances the idea of play simply led him to the interplay of one form with the other.

This encounter prompted me to introspect a little about the intersection of theatre and the martial arts. We are fortunate in India to have very lively traditions that exemplify cross training and inter-disciplinary osmosis. While training Kalaripayyattu I often encountered Kathakalli performers who moved in an almost identical fashion to Kalari exponents - sometimes even employing identical stances. On more than one occasion I encountered the statement that if you wanted to be an actor you had to learn Kathakalli and if you wanted to be a warrior then Kalari was the art to study - and invariably both forms were invoked in the same breath. This observation is neither intended to obfuscate the infinite variations between the two forms, nor is it to lump the two traditions into one common basket. It is in some way an attempt at locating the contemporary practitioner between both worlds - where one draws from both martial forms and performative techniques for self-development.

Perhaps the most compelling evidence of this intersection is in the use of stances and postures in both martial arts and theatre. In the marital arts the stance is invariably a guard or a defensive/offensive posture with certain attributes that serve different functions. Weight distribution with an emphasis on the front foot could suggest an attacking posture and weight towards the back foot could imply a defensive posture. Beyond mechanical function the posture also does things to the inner state - perhaps increasing a sense of rootedness, or sometimes invoking an animal spirit. (There's enough mumbo-jumbo about various esoteric fighting styles to infer what this could mean. Praying mantis style, drunken monkey etc…) This change in inner state is especially useful for stage performers. Often a simple change in breathing converts a fighting stance into a wonderful stage posture. With just a few modifications, the posture is adapted from serving the functional needs of combat into a theatrical state of heightened energy. Breath that is usually held in reserve for explosive movement or concealed to mask the instant of attack can be redirected towards voice and the production of sound. Similarly energy that is stored to enable movement against an adversary is now redirected towards the magical space between audience and performer.

Another point of intersection is the idea of moving as one. On stage we can instantly recognise when a performer has moved with complete conviction. We intuitively sense things like body intention and the unity of movement. Often we work with the idea of rooting movement in different energy centres of the body or at the very least with the idea of a limb leading a particular movement. Exactly the same idea holds true for the martial artist. A lot of training emphasises the idea of moving in totality - the idea of investing completely in a movement with the full body, mind and soul. This idea of holistic movement is also interlinked with the idea of intention. In dialogue we are always playing with intentions, rehearsing to explore the subtext and eventually rendering a particular set of intentions to each line - thereby making artistic choices on each line. In combat we are often striking with intention, not merely mechanically striking. In fact, at higher levels of some martial arts, the intention itself is enough to produce a reaction in the adversary.

Perhaps the most memorable exploration of this concept occurs with the famous scene of Bruce Lee training with a young student of the martial arts. The first sidekick that the young lad throws at Lee is merely mechanical and Lee rebuffs it - insisting that the boy kick with feeling. The second kick is also rebuffed because the boy has kicked with anger. On the third try the boy manages to satisfy Lee when he delivers a kick with feeling. He delivers a movement with total immersion in the movement. If you merely substitute the sidekick with a line of dialogue, the three stages of developing intention are evident. The first is a mere mechanical delivery of the line bereft of intention. The second is an imposed intention, where there is an emotional investment - but not necessarily the right one or the organically inherent one. The final stage is when the line is delivered with the right intention and where the performer has disappeared because he has immersed himself totally in the line. Be it a line or a sidekick, we are then confronted with the idea of acting in totality, of acting with complete commitment to the intention.

This is where it begins to get mystical because in this state of total immersion, all intention begins to dissolve. Suddenly the line is simply delivered without thought. There is a moment of blankness and at the same time extreme clarity. The kick is delivered at the right instant, with the perfect timing seemingly without conscious effort on the part of the practitioner. And as Lee famously said, “It hits by itself.” In this state of heightened consciousness time begins to dilate. A moment can be sliced into a much longer time and there is a sense of detachment where the doer of the action is merely observing himself doing the action, outside of himself.

Perhaps this is the ultimate convergence of the two paths - a heightened state of consciousness that transcends the physical and ventures into the meta-physical. A state of freedom, of clarity - a mind-space beyond thought, where one is absolutely in the moment and absolutely free to act…

(This article first appeared in the PT Notes August 2011 issue. Read it here at http://www.prithvitheatre.org)

Yes this blog is still active!

I have so many unpublished posts now it is not funny.
Will update real soon!!!

The Bangalore Trilogy comes back home to Bengaluru!

BUST - Friday 3rd December 7:30 pm
CREEPER - Saturday 4th December 7:30 pm
DANCING ON GLASS - Sunday 5th December 3:30 pm & 7:30 pm

At Ranga Shankara, 8th Cross, JP Nagar II Phase, Bengaluru 560078

Tickets: Rs.150/-
Book online at www.indianstage.in and www.bookmyshow.com
For Telebookings CALL 9886011973

Creeper was developed under a SARAI-CSDS Independent Research Fellowship 2007
Bust was developed under a Robert Bosch Art Grant 2009 by Robert Bosch Engineering and Business Solutions Ltd.

Dancing on Glass and Creeper contain explicit language. Not suitable for persons below the age of 18.

Source of Performance Energy Workshop at Adishakti

I must admit that I was extremely nervous about attending the Source of Performance Energy workshop at the Adishakti Laboratory for Theatre Arts and Research in Puducherry. The biggest worry on my mind was that I had tossed up acting a while ago in favour of sitting at a desk and writing plays. I was dreading the prospect of actually going back to saying lines, as opposed to cursing under my breath every time a line was miffed, paraphrased or twisted by a performer in a way it was not meant to be twisted. I figured I was at least half-prepared, since I am always happy to do cartwheels, forward rolls, backward rolls - anything other than speaking a role. In addition the Adishakti workshops have acquired a bit of lore, mostly involving the intensity and stamina required to last through them and also the agony of the sessions on rhythm and percussion. "I came out with blisters and bruises! My hands were black and blue. - All the small bones in my hands shattered and now I can't hold chopsticks. - You have to get up at seven in the morning… every day!" - were some of the horrific statements I heard from a number of serious actors. What follows are my personal notes from the workshop - in no particular order, and organised with no particular logic…


Pic by Sharavana Raghavan

The first thing I realise in the workshop is how much we take for granted the existence of some body parts - small muscles in the eyes, the diaphragm, the muscles of the back, quadriceps and of course the hamstrings and thighs. The performer's tool is the body and the amount of energy spent in fine tuning the body, is directly visible in the calibre of the performer. The training at Adishakti extends far beyond doing weights and buffing up, it focuses on manipulating much subtler energies…

On the evening before the start of the workshop we receive folders (which had disconcerting 3D orcas on them) that outlined the structure of the workshop. At seven in the morning we would start with 15 minutes of eye-exercises, then it was Kalaripayattu till 8:45 am. Then some voice work before we adjourned for breakfast. The group would then split into two - one group would work with breath practices for psychological expression and the other on text. After a tea break, the groups would switch. Then it was lunch at one, a snooze break from two to three and then the Koodiyattam rhythm session, another break, then it was working with body centres and the last session before dinner was use of rhythm in performance. Then if you had any energy you could flop into the pool or bed, depending on which you thought more relaxing.

Vinay Kumar is a rock star. I am transported to the first moment of wonder that Adishakti created in my mind. It is 2004 and the Ranga Shankara has just been built. I have carefully budgeted and bought all my tickets well in advance for select shows of the opening festival. It is with some alarm that at a show titled Ganapati I am handed a flyer that has detailed notes to the play. If you need notes to see a play I wondered, there is something quite wrong with the play. As the show began, I stared at the performers, clueless. I was watching a code I had never seen, let alone understood - rhythm had replaced text as a signifier of meaning. It was like having a carpet yanked out from under your feet. And then Vinay Kumar whacking away at a mizhavu pulls a rabbit out of a hat, one minute he is playing the mizhavu, next he cartwheels out - magically displacing himself from one position to another on stage. My jaw dropped. It was like (if you forgive the hyperbole) a one-inch punch. You see it work but you simply don't understand the physics that goes into it.

The first few session of breath work leave me mystified. We are working on shrungara - a positive energy that fills one with a sense of well being - a vague definition to an even vaguer catch-all category of emotion. I am huffing and puffing away like a choo-choo train, but all I am getting is giddy and I feel like my lungs are going to explode. This is all bogus, I think to myself. How the heck am I going to fill the top of my head with air when my respiratory system ends much further south… My pupils are dilating, my eyes are doing funny things and everyone else looks like they have defective electrodes in various parts of their bodies - but no shrungara. After the session I am so oxygenated I feel like I'm going to vaporise. I suppose that counts as a feeling of well being…

Kalari is a load of fun. Vinay and Nimmi move like fluid. My muscle memory is not co-operating. I'm able to learn smaller movements, but unable to string together long sequences. I realise how careless I am with my knees and have to constantly correct my posture. The stances give you the option to really stretch, so I'm constantly trying to put the pressure on my thighs and hamstrings and not blow out my knees and lower back.

My dreaded session is voice work. I'm trying to produce some decent sound and am trying to figure out the right posture for it. I seem to be making a mess of it since Veenapani walks up to me and prods me a little. My hips are too far back. She asks me to root my movement correctly and casually tosses out a leg sideways to demonstrate. I'm trying to figure out how she's adjusted her centre of gravity without registering it in her upper body. I'm also trying to understand how she can toss off a leg, and half her base without affecting the structure sitting on top of it. We do an exercise where we run till we are out of breath and then speak a few lines. I suddenly realise all this breath/centre/chakra business may not be bogus after all…

It's now time to work on the breathing of adbutha - wonder. My cynical circuits have gone back to overdrive. We are making various monkey like sounds and breathing like choo-choo trains on acid. I sound like a monkey and my diaphragm feels like a football and I'm trying to be as awe struck as I can. I make a hash of my attempt at adbutha and figure it's time to abandon this hair-brained idea. It is only after the session I have my aha-moment. I'm jumping about like a monkey going O-O-O when suddenly the air hits a portion of my upper palate and I feel the impulse to jump. What's this then??? - I wonder to myself. I say the sound again and try to isolate the spot in my mouth. Once again I hit the spot and instantly I feel the urge to spring upward and bounce up and down. I resolve to just work in the breath sessions in an open-minded methodical way and not try to come at the exercise from a pre-conceived view point of what the emotion should be.

The mizhavu is the only musical instrument that is meant specifically for theatre. It's a big copper drum that inflicts incredible amounts of pain when played. It's pretty apt as a metaphor for the relationship one has with theatre, as I found out after talking to more than a few people. Politically incorrect as this may be, the mizhavu is a total bitch - unforgiving, unyielding and snooty. You can whack away at it all you like, it will still find a way to screw you over next time round. The rhythm session after lunch is a nightmare. Arvind Rane, the loveable local subversive element had this gem to offer - "If it hurts, hit harder." He was right.

People find different ways to adapt to this gut-wrenching session. A couple of us, find each other in the session as we are able to match rhythms and play together. For some of us it's easier, I switch off my pain circuits and manage to hop-skip-stagger past the hurt into numbness and then I'm working. Perhaps it's the stubborn writer in me that makes me plough through this legendary pain. It also helps to pull your eyes, face and mouth into funny shapes while playing, as well as move your body around; one - it helps mask the pain, two - it makes phrasing easier, you're actually talking with/through the drum, three - anything to take your mind off the pain!

We are working on karuna. It's scary. It's the respiratory equivalent of strangulation. I'm doubly worried because I know I can hold my breath for quite a long while, so I'm sure I'm just going to be sitting around as my heartbeat quickens, my body screams for air and everyone gets bored watching me blow another exercise. Vinay outlines the steps involved, expel air sharply with a 'huh', lock the chest and accelerate the de-oxygenation in the body, which is the absolute reverse of swimming underwater for a long time. It's sickening. Your face melts, as if all your facial features are hot liquid. It feels like stabbing yourself in the chest with a hot knife. I get a sickening sensation of hot sticky black liquid being poured into my insides. I'm in that horrible place, where your body is confronting death and is saying to you - listen buddy, keep screwing around like this and you are a goner. I've promised myself I'm going to go for it. I manage to nudge myself over some sick psychological threshold and take in a huge gasp of air. I bawl my guts out. Yeah, I've got this one figured… Vinay tells us we should be careful with this one, as it is addictive., the same as auto-erotic asphyxiation. For some reason I think of David Caradine. I'm edgy all evening as I try to shake off the after effects of the exercise.

Suresh reminds me of Ganapati. He's always in shrungara - smiling benevolently at some cosmic joke that only a human metronome knows. His hand reminds me of Ganesha's trunk. He dunks his hand on the mizhavu from an inch away and makes it sing like a bell. I'm reminded of the one-inch punch again, you see it work but you simply don't understand the physics that goes into it! I wish I had fatter hands!

Eye exercises with Nimmi are incredible. We work at actively changing the focal length of our eyes and giving energy to the eyes. Vinay says koodiyattam performers do eye exercises with ghee in their eyes. We're slacking off one day and Vinay threatens to put ghee in our eyes. The group is suddenly motivated!

A typical percussion session involves the customary howling in pain as the hands warm up. More than a few people cry and weep. Others book massages, then oversleep, thus finding a creative way to bunk the session. I discover I like percussion! It takes time for me to get my head around the tha-tha-keta-thak-a-tha phrasing, but once it sticks, it sticks - a weird combination of cognitive and muscle memory.

Raudra is a cinch for me. You create and hold tension in the muscles at the back of your neck. I tense my muscles so hard I get a horrible neck ache after. I'm so angry I see red and my entire skull starts vibrating. As with karuna it takes time for the after-effects of the exercise to wear off. The negative emotions seem easier than the positive ones!

Voice work for me is pure torture. Veenapani is patient but I'm making a total hash of everything. My dirty habits take their time leaving and in a panic my voice heads straight for my throat and vocal chords. I've been telling actor's to speak from the stomach, but for the first time I'm figuring out the actual mechanics of making that happen. "Learn to use different resonators", Veenapani says. I'm baffled. On the last day of the workshop I'm aspirating my 'ha' like a champ and suddenly I feel the sound resonating in my chest. My voice hits a register I don't recognise. I'm overjoyed! I manage to move the sound around from my throat to my chest to my head.

For some reason Adishakti facilitates accelerated learning. Maybe it's because we seem to learn faster in groups or maybe it's just the great energy of the place. Everyone is always trying things, so you just pick up stuff a lot quicker. A whole bunch of people make huge progress with their swimming - learning to swim, learning different strokes, handstands, flips - all while we work on our breathing. The swimming exercises take a bit of getting used to since the breathing is not geared towards speed and you don't grab air to the chest, instead you direct it much deeper. I realise that everything, every single thing in the world has rhythm…

What is with these chakras? It really takes a leap of faith to work with them. Initially I was able to concede that these points are directly linked to balance since they are rooted in the spine, but then I figured there's an entire world of exploration there beyond physical matter. While physiology tell us what constitutes our physical body, the inner map of the body is quite different. It's the difference between perceiving gross matter and subtle matter, the difference between the light bulb, the filament and the light itself. There is a self made of gross matter and then there is the subtle self… And here is the big question - how do you become fully aware of that subtle self? I stop myself… Perhaps this line of thinking is out of scope at the moment…

We do small presentations at the end of the workshop. It's amazing to see the learning that everyone takes back. It's also a joy to work with yourself without the pressure of qualitative scrutiny. More than a few pieces move me. There are no less than three rounds of crying. Mysteriously - three pieces involve pornography. One piece is deeply spiritual, it leaves me deeply pensive all evening…

I think we are too easy on ourselves, too satisfied with safety. I think we are too comfortable thinking we know the answers, instead of asking the difficult questions. I ask a theatre senior about his thoughts on Adishakti. "Veenapani operates from a different planet. She sets the bar so high, she's in a different league altogether." I totally agree…

(This article first appeared in the PT Notes November 2010 issue. Read it at www.prithvitheatrenotes.blogspot.com)

Trilogy

Actors Ensemble India Forum presents
A Trilogy - July 2010 Tour

Of

Dancing on Glass (2004)
Creeper (2007)
Bust (2010)

Actors Ensemble India Forum (AEIF) was born in 2007 and is committed to supporting new writing and innovation in theatre. AEIF envisions a collaborative platform for the writer-director-actor ensemble to create cutting edge work for the stage in urban spaces.

Three Actors Ensemble productions have now come together as a trilogy of plays about Bangalore: the widely-performed Dancing on Glass, Creeper which was developed under a Sarai-CSDS Independent Research Fellowship, and our latest production Bust developed under a Robert Bosch Art Grant. These productions written and directed by Ram Ganesh Kamatham will tour Bengaluru, Delhi and Mumbai in July.

Dancing on Glass (2004)is a dark comedy that takes a look at the flip-side of the world of call centres and Information Technology.

Creeper (2007)is a zany experimental play about an expert narrator, a mischievous sutradhar and a mysterious box.

Bust (2010) tells the story of three women who delve underground and into the city's history in search of an ancient relic buried beneath a thousand year old temple.

Tour Dates:

Guru Nanak Bhavan, Bengaluru - 7:30 PM Friday 9th, Saturday 10th, Sunday 11th July

India Habitat Centre, New Delhi - 7 PM Friday 16th, Saturday 17th, Sunday 18th July

Prithvi Theatre, Mumbai - 7PM & 9:30PM Tuesday 20th, Wednesday 21st, Thursday 22nd July

BUST!!!

Bust - premiers June 26th and 27th at Ranga Shankara

Coming soon...
:-)

Dancing on Glass in May

Dancing on Glass at Ranga Shankara on Jan 31st

Dancing on Glass is a dark comedy that takes a look at the flip side of the fast paced IT world. Written in 2004, in the thick of the BPO buzz, the play is an eloquent response to the rapid changes in the cityscape and its effect on two young working professionals. Alternating between raucous humour and edgy drama, the play is an emotionally explosive theatrical experience, and is a must-watch for anyone who has ever worked in a corporate space!

The play is primarily in English and runs for 1 hour and 20 minutes without interval. Dancing on Glass contains some explicit language and is not suitable for persons below the age of 18.

Starring Abhishek Majumdar and Meghana Mundkur
Written and directed by Ram Ganesh Kamatham

Tickets: Rs. 100/- (3:30 PM) & Rs.150/- (7:30 PM)

for Tele Bookings Call 98863 70614
for Online Bookings visit http://www.indianstage.in

A happy announcement - Ultimate Kurukshetra

I am very happy to announce the official slaying of a monster play. After battling for... (hold your breath) ... six years, I've finished my play. It's called "Ultimate Kurukshetra" and at one point went by the names of "Warsong" and "Forgotten Song..."

I started this play in mid 2003 right after graduating and after much staggering around, much confusion, much fatigue and much suffering... It's done!

I must have thrown the play into the dustbin at least ten times and fished it out the same number of times to restart work on it. (This is of course excluding the times I merely fished it out of the dustbin and put it right back in again.)
It's been a hell of a journey and I've written a pile of plays in the interim. In fact chronologically, it's right back there with Square root of Minus One.

The final strike happened at Adishakti in Pondycherry, where I parked arse at the Sangam house residency for 2 weeks and pinned the play down on paper once and for all! I also did an informal reading with the extremely sporting actors there and was happy to hear the results... which mostly consisted of laughter in the right places. A huge thanks to all of them.

Right... I'm so glad this is off my back. I'm letting it lie for a while, doing a light polish in a few months and then throwing it out of the house to fend for itself. Yipee! I'm off to celebrate for a day before I run back into rehearsal for a Dancing on Glass show on the 18th.

No rest for the wicked I tell you!

Gautam, since you're probably the only dude reading this, I'm happy to tell you that diving into the Mahabharata and coming out alive is possible.
And Arghya, who will probably never read this, keep at it. You're real close.
And to all the sleepless writers out there... Forge on, my friends forge on!

Drifting again

Drifted about again.
Made my annual piligrammage to the Himalayas.
Went to McLeodGanj. Did a 10 day Vipassana course.
Pretty intense.
Bumped into the Rage gang completely by chance.
They were trekking up to Triund. I was too fried after the meditation to do anything.
Floated back to B'lore.
I think I'm in love with my life.
Or I think I'm in love with life.
Or I think I'm in love.
Or I'm so alive.
Or I think.
Or I.
Am.

Going for Bust - (RBEI 1)

My blog has once again, gone official! I will now be reporting monthly progress on a new project of mine, working title - Bust. The project has been enabled by an art grant from Robert Bosch India. (RBEI)

The idea for the play hit me quite by accident. As good ideas often tend to. I was doing a duck-walk-frog-jump-run-till-you-drop Sunday workout in Cubbon Park with my crazy climbing friends at Mars Adventures. While I was wondering whether my hamstrings would explode, I happened to chance upon a statue that was set amidst a bunch of colourful flowers. I was amazed at the beautiful sight. Endorphins tend to make everything really wonderful… I also realised that I had no clue whose statue it was. Which set me thinking - Who's statue is that? This line of thinking led me to the next observation - I think my hamstrings just exploded...

Later in the day... one thing connected to another and an idea took shape.

Bust takes the audience on a journey into the city of Bangalore through the eyes of eminent historical persons who were a major influence on the city. The sutradhars of the play are actually characters drawn from the city's history. This enables a polyvocal clash of cultures, timelines and narratives, conflating past and the present against a contemporary urban backdrop.

Which seems to be a pet theme, come to think of it. I suppose this is a continuation of the tricks I was turning in Creeper. I think that the polyvocal approach facilitates risk taking. It also liberates you from dull things like consistency of voice and sanctity of authorial meaning, instead, throwing you into the exciting terrain of shifting language. It might be exciting to create a text - as Barthes puts it - that is "a tissue of quotations drawn from the innumerable centres of culture." So while Barthes announced the death of the author in 1968, we can get on with the business of playmaking in the year 2009 minus many burdens, posthumously or otherwise.

The fun thing about a lot of my projects, is that they tend to be inherently polyvocal. The text serves as the springboard for writer-director-actor dynamics. Meaning is created through this negotiation and eventually, it also the audience that supplies a live meaning in performance. This is what makes the theatrical experience so live, so immediate.

At the moment however, it's time to put on my research hat, saturate myself in all the available material and then sniff out the way forward. I've got a few leads already, so I'm off to do a pile of interviews and start snooping around… Here we go! Damn excited!

a couple of poems

so apparently, i kinda-sorta-maybe remember how to write poetry
so here goes...

Cold

She watches me
Eyebrow raised
Eyes and hands clutch
Warm sheets against us
Between us
Cold rain
Lashes the beach outside

I walked with you
Retraced the steps, his betrayal
In the cold rain
With you
Caught and killed your ghost
For you

But her eyebrow stays raised
Her warm flesh
Won't bend to mine
She doesn't like the cold
Of my ten thousand ghosts
___________________________

Kitchen

I would have loved you in the kitchen
Would have snuck-up behind you
To place an electric kiss
On the back of your neck
As you chopped tomatoes
(That was our first kiss.)

I would have loved you in the kitchen
On the counter maybe
Breakfast in bed
Pleasantly interrupted
With sparks of an impromptu tangle
Cornflakes forgotten

I would have loved you in the kitchen
While you were making a health shake
Complaining about your diet
The state of your eyebrows
And why I was not going to stay for lunch

Somewhere in the snowy mountains
A butterfly flapped its wings
And the momos I remember you for
Unwrapped themselves into
Hungry corpses
And settled down for dinner with us

I know I could love you
But I'm so far away now
And can't seem to catch your eye
Across the crowd in the kitchen

Monster plays and other things

so... i'm in b'bay and it's raining endlessly...
i dreamed of an ex-girlfriend, can't remember which... i have a stomach upset...
i've got travel itch... and i've got a pile of deadlines coming up.
and with that relevant preamble i want to talk about "monster plays"
i have two of them on hand at the moment - Ultimate Kurukshetra and Into Stone

what is a monster play?
a monster play is like an unhealthy relationship.
you pour your heart, blood, guts, brain, sweat, self and soul into the play for years and years and years. and years. - and all you have to show for it is fatigue...

i just did a reading of Ultimate Kurukshetra and for the first time i have hope for these two plays. i started writing Ultimate... in 2003 and the reading was early this month. i can't even begin to imagine how much time i've spent on it.
hearing it read out loud produced a huge sense of relief! and trawling through past entries on my blog, where i've cheerfully announced completion of draft after draft of Into Stone, all i can feel is sinking despair.

a monster play refuses to be complete. just when u think u've pinned it, it either expands or contracts and then u're back to the start - with too much material, or too little. with a fat draft, or too lean a draft. a real mess.

at one point last year i was going so crazy that i was writing both plays simultaneously. and as anyone who has written a play knows, that's asking for trouble. anyway, the point of this diatribe is to reassure myself that - monsters can be slain!

and ultimate... is in my sights. for the first time. in six years.

what's a bit funny about ultimate... is that i can feel myself in it in a rather odd way. i can hear my voice as it was six years ago. it's like hearing myself when i was right out of college and saying - fuck this, let's do something really ground breaking! - which is always the kind of statement that lands you in trouble!

and there's trace elements of other plays in it. stuff that i was thinking about, things i was going through. many elements of crab that i had idiotically tried to write onto it. hearing the reading was like hearing an echo from the past. and strangely enough those echoes are exactly what are screwing me senseless on into stone. 'other selves' that creep up on you now and then.

sometimes i wonder how i mange to connect everything to everything else. and how that same instinct has given me splitting headaches and the highest buzzes while writing. that amazing sense of interconnectedness. that sound you hear when all sound stops. that soul freezing hum that is the machinery of the universe, chugging along.

anyway, its' nose to the wheel for me. and it's back to the most basic test for a playwright. you may have the skill, but do you have the stamina? if ghosts can be slain, so can monsters.

Project S.T.R.I.P.

Limited run:
@ Prithvi Theatre: 16th - 21st June 2009
@ Sathaye College : 27 - 28 June 2009
@ NCPA Experimental : 1 - 5 July 2009
Tickets: 26149546/39895050/www.bookmyshow.com

3 months went missing

Umm... Where did Feb, March and April go?
I guess it disappeared somewhere in between my shuttling between B'lore and B'bay.
What's new... Well let's see...
I've been writing furiously. And when that happens, stuff happens.
It's been pretty uphill, as always.
I think this is that strange consolidation phase, you go through before stuff happens. Because right now, nothing is happening!
So when does stuff actually happen then?

In other news, I've written two plays. One of which will be staged in Mumbai mid June. The other will have a rehearsed reading in Bangalore early July.

Draft Five - Into Stone

As the dramaturgical cliche goes - less is more.
I'm done. I quit. Now to stage this darn thing...

Forgetfullness

Just some random pics from the travels...

The women of Maitree dairy in Rajasthan...

Cotton farmers in Warangal

and ... Bollgard II Cotton - GMO