Bhargavi and I went about half hour before the scheduled start of the play to buy the tickets. We settled in with a packet of chakkli and waited for the show to begin and for my mother to arrive with Maya.
As we had bought a family pass after paying a bomb (well, Rs 500 per head is a bomb by Sirsi standards, at least), I felt entitled to sit in the second row. This was rather daring of me, because usually in small towns like Sirsi, the first two rows have to be left empty for the press or dignitaries even if you have premium tickets.
But, I began to chicken out as some event organizers began to come around and started sticking “Press” labels to the row of chairs in front of me and “VIPS” or “Ganyaru” on the wall beside us. We eased out of our really premium-feeling second-row chairs to the third row of chairs while they were still available. Life in Sirsi has taught me to be grateful that I made this move fast enough to still get the seats in the third row.
My mother and Maya came. Maya duly demanded her share of chakklis and munched them, while our wait still continued for the play to start. I was hoping that this being a paid event, the organizers may skip their pound of flesh and start the play right away. But the templatized “sabha karyakrama” was hard to evade, though it was a shortened version. And, what is sabha karyakrama you ask? Well, you have to live through one to understand it, but I’ll spoil it for you: a true sabha karyakrama begins with a lighting of the lamp, then an invocation to God. Next, the Chief Guest and the President (not of the country, but the event) is honoured with shawls that they will never use in their lives and some “moments” (really, you didnt know they were mementos? You are not living the life, I tell you.) packed in shiny, plasticky paper. Then the Chief Guest is invited to talk and how long he/she speaks really depends on how kind he/she is feeling towards you.
As we had bought a family pass after paying a bomb (well, Rs 500 per head is a bomb by Sirsi standards, at least), I felt entitled to sit in the second row. This was rather daring of me, because usually in small towns like Sirsi, the first two rows have to be left empty for the press or dignitaries even if you have premium tickets.
But, I began to chicken out as some event organizers began to come around and started sticking “Press” labels to the row of chairs in front of me and “VIPS” or “Ganyaru” on the wall beside us. We eased out of our really premium-feeling second-row chairs to the third row of chairs while they were still available. Life in Sirsi has taught me to be grateful that I made this move fast enough to still get the seats in the third row.
My mother and Maya came. Maya duly demanded her share of chakklis and munched them, while our wait still continued for the play to start. I was hoping that this being a paid event, the organizers may skip their pound of flesh and start the play right away. But the templatized “sabha karyakrama” was hard to evade, though it was a shortened version. And, what is sabha karyakrama you ask? Well, you have to live through one to understand it, but I’ll spoil it for you: a true sabha karyakrama begins with a lighting of the lamp, then an invocation to God. Next, the Chief Guest and the President (not of the country, but the event) is honoured with shawls that they will never use in their lives and some “moments” (really, you didnt know they were mementos? You are not living the life, I tell you.) packed in shiny, plasticky paper. Then the Chief Guest is invited to talk and how long he/she speaks really depends on how kind he/she is feeling towards you.
The President is next in line to speak and it’s the same about his kindness. Sometimes I suspect they are just prepping you to be the next Chief Guest and President, because you can’t really be a good one unless you have weathered the role of the audience.
Now, if there are no special felicitations, it quickly moves to the Vote of Thanks(!?). Why vote, why be thankful, I have often wondered. The Vote of Thanks is taken particularly seriously as I have seen the Thanker going all red in the face if they forget to thank anyone and needs to be reminded.
But I digress. So, yesterday we did have a sabha karyakrama, but an abbreviated one and the play finally started a full hour after the scheduled time.
The children had their eyes riveted on stage from the moment it began. There were questions all throughout: about the stage props, about the fantastic costume of the emperor/gold mine magnate. I didn't provide explanations for everything as I thought it may interfere with the viewing but kept feeding some info to Bubbu so she could get the threads. When I told Maya that the fantastic-looking creature was actually the Raja, she was not convinced. She said a Raja didn’t look that way.
It was a good performance by everyone, especially the lead actor, Disha Ramesh, who played Nandini. I think the kids loved the play more because it was a musical. Too much conversation would probably have made it difficult for them to follow. On some levels, it was simple enough for them to get it. This is what they understood: there was this girl who seemed to like red flowers. Some people were slogging it out and some other people who really looked evil seemed to be flogging them, etc. When the evil-looking people were on the scene, there was much lashing of the whip and threatening, but when Nandini was around, they could relate more as there was music, which they loved. Why the emperor found it difficult to sleep, they could not fathom. Nor about why the people were chained.
Now, if there are no special felicitations, it quickly moves to the Vote of Thanks(!?). Why vote, why be thankful, I have often wondered. The Vote of Thanks is taken particularly seriously as I have seen the Thanker going all red in the face if they forget to thank anyone and needs to be reminded.
But I digress. So, yesterday we did have a sabha karyakrama, but an abbreviated one and the play finally started a full hour after the scheduled time.
The children had their eyes riveted on stage from the moment it began. There were questions all throughout: about the stage props, about the fantastic costume of the emperor/gold mine magnate. I didn't provide explanations for everything as I thought it may interfere with the viewing but kept feeding some info to Bubbu so she could get the threads. When I told Maya that the fantastic-looking creature was actually the Raja, she was not convinced. She said a Raja didn’t look that way.
It was a good performance by everyone, especially the lead actor, Disha Ramesh, who played Nandini. I think the kids loved the play more because it was a musical. Too much conversation would probably have made it difficult for them to follow. On some levels, it was simple enough for them to get it. This is what they understood: there was this girl who seemed to like red flowers. Some people were slogging it out and some other people who really looked evil seemed to be flogging them, etc. When the evil-looking people were on the scene, there was much lashing of the whip and threatening, but when Nandini was around, they could relate more as there was music, which they loved. Why the emperor found it difficult to sleep, they could not fathom. Nor about why the people were chained.
When Nandini sees through the emperor's fearsome facade for the tortured creature he truly is, it was for me Jeevan Vidya re-visited all over again. Indeed, how can a person who feels prosperous and happy want to violate anyone? It is the one who feels deprived who may act depraved.
The play also made me think we need more of Tagore in our regular reading. Very relevant and required.
That night, we had a more detailed discussion on the play. Maya wanted to fill in all the gaps in her understanding of the play. She asked why the emperor had touched Nandini with an oversized hand, why he constantly stayed on an upraised prop (which was his palace), why there was a hole on the stage -- this was the opening that represented the entrance to the gold mine.
Bhargavi told her dad that the play was about red flowers, when I asked her to describe the play to him, as he had not watched it. It seemed all she could remember from the play was the actor who played the role of the emperor. That he was particularly good-looking. Well, well.
The play also made me think we need more of Tagore in our regular reading. Very relevant and required.
That night, we had a more detailed discussion on the play. Maya wanted to fill in all the gaps in her understanding of the play. She asked why the emperor had touched Nandini with an oversized hand, why he constantly stayed on an upraised prop (which was his palace), why there was a hole on the stage -- this was the opening that represented the entrance to the gold mine.
Bhargavi told her dad that the play was about red flowers, when I asked her to describe the play to him, as he had not watched it. It seemed all she could remember from the play was the actor who played the role of the emperor. That he was particularly good-looking. Well, well.
