Saw a few pictures of you.Girish Karnad’s voice echoes over the PA system. His pre-recorded message requesting the ever-accommodating audience to “please switch of your mobile phones,” is met for once by the chitter-chatter of a house-full show audience, that’s has surprisingly turned out for a play, not representing anything relatively mainstream Indian.
The last two days have been surprising to say the least — at least for someone like me, who has been attending every single performance at this year’s Ranga Shankara theatre festival!
XOX
The festival opened with Rama Bijoya, a treat to anyone who has never seen the quaint theatrical-dance form of Sattriya. This particular piece was performed by the Sattriya Monks of Uttar Kamalabari Sattra, in Majuli, Axom.
Now I am no master in the art myself, but I have seen Sattriya performances before this, and this wasn’t the best the art could offer to a new audience. The monks performed the life of Lord Rama, till his betrothal to Sita, which was interesting enough a theme, but it didn’t work for me…
Why it didn’t work for me on principal, is basically because the art has not developed at all. Being practiced by the monks in closed almost Nazi camp like Sattras, the art is still lost in an old world full of hierarchy, which is not necessarily charming.
Consider the fact that male artists still perform the female roles and that the male actors are not far from being actual castratos and you suddenly realize how sordid the art is.
The performance was average to say the least, it didn’t inspire me in parts nor did it evoke any exclamations of joy at discovering something astoundingly aesthete at any moment!
It warbled on, in the amusing Brajawali dialect of Assamese and while it was fun to watch how words were ‘o’d and ‘ou’d every now and then, such accentual differences couldn’t keep me or half the audience too interested for too long.
XOX
But the God’s of Theatre have a lot of mercy and the very next day, almost to make up for the downer on Day 1, we were brought two Kattaikkoottu performances.
Now what is Kattaikkoottu you must be wondering? Well, this old folk art form from the Northern Districts of Tamizhnaadu, is a performance based narrative art, that beautifully mixes, Koothu (street dancing), with folk music, a mask-drama-dance and several other such elements, creating a performance that is raw, sensual, fabulous and well-worth several views! To find out more, just visit this link: http://www.kattaikkuttu.org/
The Tamil Nadu Kattaikkuttu Kalai Valarchi Munnetra Sangam from Kanchipuram, more simply known as the Sangam, was invited to perform two pieces from their repertoire on Day 2 of the festival. The first performance was a from the normal ‘Southern Style’ cannon — Subhadhira Kalyaanam and this piece was extremely exciting as it featured the All Girls Kattaikkuttu Company, which is probably the ONLY all-female Kattaikkoottu company in the whole wide world! The Sangam is single handedly responsible for the introduction of this art to women. And even till today, women have to overcome quite a few obstacles posed by family and society to learn this art.
The performance was amazing and so full of energy and comedic timing, while the young artistes, who performed the role of Arjunan and Kannan (Krishna), were astoundingly good too!
I was more than ready for the next performance, later that very evening and my hopes were kept up with, thankfully.
The Kattaikkuttu Young Professionals troupe set the stage on fire with the evening performance, when they performed an abridged version of their repertory regular Pakatai Tukil, this time however called Diraupathi Tukil, a shortened version.
My favourite character from the previous performance, the young energetic pretty looking girl who played Arjunan, played one of the several Draupadi’s in this energy-ravishing performance.
What however added to the overall exuberance and energy was the last extended, exclusively Tamizh addition to Draupadi’s Vastraharan — the last dice game! I was as elated and impressed by this local twist, and believe me; I really wish this was added to all versions of the Mahabharata.
Impressed enough, I looked forward to every other performance in the festival, but was extremely disappointed for the next few days.
XOX
The next Wednesday, I was dragged, and I actually mean dragged to watch Dastangoi — new tales from Tilism-e-Hoshruba, a Hindustani performance that turned out to be in too chaste Urdu for anyone like me to follow or appreciate.
Firstly, I do not like narrative forms that involve one performer telling me a story, no matter how good the performance is! Secondly, I need to at least grasp the gist of what is being said on stage to understand and appreciate any art — however simple or rustic!
Now in this case, we were given print-outs with a general explanation of what this Dastangoi was all about, but even after almost memorizing it, the strangeness of the language and sheer bias against the style of art, left me bewildered first, and then terribly bored later.
Bewildered, why you ask? Well, I had no clue Bangalore had such a well-learned Urdu audience. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it but me. Co-viewer Faiqueee, however, also enjoyed the show, and he had reason enough to do so — he understood Urdu like he was supposed to! But I am still left wondering if that was the case with most of the audience, who predictably laughed at every funny looking comment and applauded every time one of narrators reached a crescendo. It was pitiable and sad and I am happy it’s over.
No more Dastangoi for me, ever again and I assume I don’t need to reiterate why I was bored?
XOX
The next day was Bangalore-is excited-day! Teejan Bai, the lone champion of Chhattisgarh’s native art of Pandavani was in town! Now, I’d heard so much about Teejan Bai that I was extremely apprehensive of even going for the show. I have learnt the hard way, that when people talk a lot about a particular performer and their abilities, more often than not, you’re left wondering what all the fuss was about in the first place.
My apprehensions were quite justified and the performance was just mediocre. Teejan Bai has lost her voice and the Draupadi Cheerharan (which is what the performance was all about) lasted for just 5 minutes! Yes, those five minutes were so raw and powerful that it made the rest of the boring 45 minutes or so seem so worth-it… But really, is a good 5 minute performance what people rave so much about?
What I must agree however, is that the use of English words that have become commonplace, like Total and Timepass, were effectively used in perfect comic timing and incited quite a few hearty laughs.
The only bit that stood out for me was the joke of Krishna asking Draupadi how she could blame him for him coming so late to the durbar, when she decided to call him Dwarknath, of all his names! He had to go all the way to Dwarka before he could come and save her, thanks to her choice of calling him that! Kinda stupid, but Oh! So enjoyable!
XOX
And then there was today! Yes, I finally manage to connect back to where I started this LONG LONG post!
The moment I saw how the director/set designer had set up the stage, I knew I was going to like it. Reminiscent of a village Laai Haraaoba platform, with a Bamboo fence and a plate of offerings — the stage suddenly seemed to posses depth that I didn’t know Ranga Shankara was capable of creating… and superbly organized lights, that looked professional for once! And then there was the entrance!
Goosebumps and more goosebumps erupted all over me, when I heard the familiar sound of a Pena with the accompanying Pung and Dholok. The Tangkhul flute was almost magical in the way it was used and so was the atypical double conch… and then it all began…
First the much-seen circular formation, with musicians and narrator at the side and background and then the slow unknotting of an ancient tale, so typical a form to Meitei performing arts!
A friend just asked on FB, why it was called a ballad and all I can say to him now in reply is — what else can you call something that has reached such a sense of purity and finesse? No other word would justify the story of the Goddess of Rice, when said with such style, depth, rusticity and in such a huge emotional range.
The music was amazing, the writing even better and the performances — like I’ve never seen before. The lyrical quality of chaste Meiteilon came to life in this play, and the scenes with the interactions between the Goddesses, broke me down out of sheer joy at the beauty witnessed.
What really worked for the play was the wonderful mix of myth, religion, a love ballad and powerful narration, all interspersed and so beautifully directed into a perfect whole by M Mangangsana.
The proposal scene and the final day of meeting between Phou-Oibi and Akongjamba were the most beautifully etched. With a spirited mix of narration and beautiful sing-song folk-tune inspired interlude every now and then, the mood of these scenes brought a lot of warmth and excitement to the viewer, memories even!
Phou-Oibi showing her true colours to Akongjamba’s mother, was a scene also done very cleverly. Keeping in mind the subtlety of the form, the power and all encompassing rage of Phou-Oibi was amazingly portrayed, invoking awe through the restrain used by the actress in almost everyone sitting in the audience.
To summarize the whole experience, if that’s even possible — The Laihui troupe’s presentation of Phou-Oibi was probably the best performance seen at this year’s festival. I do realize there are three more performances, but I’m kinda convinced they will not reach this level of the mastery of an art. I am impressed and am officially now a fan!
Phou-Oibi has given me new goals in life. I hope to one day act in a Meitei theatrical production and to at least learn, if not master, one of these extremely refined arts, which were and still are, all mine for the taking!
I have new found joy in being Meitei :)
May your art find you too!
If you would like to see what the Laihui performance looks like... check out the directors channel on YouTube:
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Another evening, another hour spent looking up on what the world around me is up to. Facebook does have its uses and for now, its uses to me are to inform me, whether I like it or not, that ‘I am single as single can be’.
The networking site takes pleasures in informing you of the lives of people, you once dreamed of a future with, and how they’re doing absofuckinlutely fine without YOU!
I woke up late this afternoon to a conversation on the ever-benevolent FB, where someone I’ve always been in love with, suddenly decided to pop-up on my screen and chat (Lo! And Behold! It was HIM).
The young and extremely charming saver of lives, who has been in my life for the last five years, stopped by on his virtual highway to pleasure, to find out if I was doing well. I said I was and that was that (at least I thought so!).
But, random chat ensued and we spoke about several things including how he assumed I needed sex, lots of it apparently! If only sex was the solution to everything! *sigh*
Anyhoo, all he stopped by was to inform me that he had fallen in love (one more down, several more to go?). He had met someone special, they went back to his place had wild, fiery sex and now they were in love.
I’ve heard that story and learnt to never judge the hard way, so I congratulated him and assumed that was that.
Right! Like that is ever just that! The conversation went on to speak about why I would never work as his lover and why I am probably the worst thing to happen to someone searching for love.
I thought it must be just wonderful how fate always assumed I could take all this negativity, especially when I was already so deep and immersed in feeling like shit. I’d practically forgotten what ‘Happy’ meant. But where was I to be shown any mercy from fate’s cruel cold intentions and the conversation ensued, as teardrops trickled down my cheek, one by one. (Don’t feel sad, please, coz’ from the likes of that conversation, I am half convinced, I deserved it!)
Now, once upon a time, I used to imagine, the divine force up there cared when I cried (What a small boy, I was!). Now, I realize my tears mean nothing and nobody knew or cared if was crying, dying, being raped, or going mad, at this very moment.
Such realizations can hit you where you hate it the most — at the very core of your ego, your self-image and your esteem, but I have seen far too much of all this to be affected, or even be remotely self-piteous, so I just cried and I left it at that.
That done. I hoped now my day would be a better one, so I checked the Inbox on my mobile. The first message from another special someone was angry. Ridden with insults, it meant: either special someone was drunk, or special someone hated me newly, for something I had just apparently done. Only problem: We don’t live in the same city anymore. What could I have done?
I call. I text. I wonder. The silence remains. But at least I realize why special someone remained ‘just’ special someone in my life. I silently thank god for small mercies. My tummy grumbles. I need food.
I make myself some green tea (not food, but definitely comforting). My splitting senses need some calming. So I switch on the telly and what do I see? Some more gay love being spewed at my face. Unable to take it anymore. I decide to read something online, something dark and cold and mysterious, a lot like the person I was going to meet in the evening. Another special someone, who I hope forever, remains just that!
The heartless bitch virtual stalker called FB pops up, to inform me that another someone special is going to meet his boy love, on my side of the equator. I am now curious. So I stalk a little and then realize it’s kinda pointless to be doing that.
I mean special someone well, and I always hoped he’d find someone nice. But I also wanted him to suffer for not wanting me (stupid little me!). Thankfully my good intentions prevailed and I now continue to want his good. They make such a cute couple. I swear!
Anyhoo, someone special’s boy love is a charming dream boy, who writes really well, cooks really well and to put it really simply — I can see why special someone fell for him. God bless them both as they flirt away and make a happy future together in the fig forest. *takes away the evil eye on them by imagining they’re around and breaking knuckles on both their respective temples*
But that begs the BIG question to be asked. Why did these special someone’s not want to make me their special someone. I mean, I know I am special in their lives, but I am not their boy love. Deep down, I am being manipulated into believing (and it does seem true), that it after-all is about the mere physicality of things.
I am fat. I know it. I am not ashamed of it and will lose the excess tummy that I have, when I know it is needed to be done. My two front teeth, that I lost during an accident, will eventually be replaced, once I find a dentist who can do a good enough job and also assure me that further ‘experiments’ will not be conducted. My mouth feels like a guinea pig — three years of various dental experiments and nothing worthwhile even once. Lots of pain, that’s all.
Now, I have always said that I will not fall for a man, who can’t see past these supposed two shortcomings, but as I grow older, I seem to realize, men like that don’t exist. All my special someone’s are attracted enough to only hold on to me as an emotional connect, but when it comes to the physical, I am a strict, let’s-just-sweep-that-under-the-carpet conversation.
So do I need to mould myself into being a dream boy too? Even though I never felt the need to be one? And is that why my best friend now takes everybody else’s side but mine? Oh wait, that’s another story altogether! Will vomit that out soon enough, when projectile cleaning is required again, for the betterment of the feeling of my soul.
Lots of questions pending and the need to watch a play, I am sure I won’t enjoy, I get ready for my evening. My day couldn’t have gotten worse, I assumed. But it did.
The play was fun. I am now an official fan of Pandavani as a folk art form and just when I thought I could do a quiet little escape post play, dinner plans are made. I can’t do a good enough, ‘I am not really looking forward to that’ expression and so I agree. Also I adore the feminine company I have.
Anyway special someone is there, as he has to be there (!), and I spend the rest of the evening not looking at him, for fear of falling for him more. He is not meant for me, and this time round I hope to not fall for someone ‘again’, now that I’m sure of what he’s looking for. Any guesses?
You or I, won’t be surprised.
Of James Marsden and an associated Facebook conversation now converted into a blog post…
It all started off with me uploading pictures of the only man I truly love and desire (NOT!) But for the sake of this post... I do :) Anyway here’s how it went…
Original uploaded text on FB with pictures: Hello! All :P I am sharing some photos of the future love of my life, because I feels, everyone must enjoy his visuals pleasures. That however doesn't mean, you can drool yourself to dehydration, as he is youvurr brother-in-law after all... future brother-in-law at least. So look with respect, comment with modesty and if you want to do something naughty, please do, just don't let me know or anger might come and I might just DELETE this album... So don't push me against the wall, please friends! :P Now, yenjaai with self-control :)
Now Ann Kochu, who is a friend of Sumana B Jayanth, who is now Sumana Simha, who I only met at a wedding (Ann)… liked it, soon after which, so did… Michelle Wilfred, Priyanka Koijam, Vipp Notism, Tia Raina (who’s blog is linked here) and Anuradha Ramanathan (mostly Christ College connections who have become friends over time)...
So my first comment came from Tia Raina: “Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”, which was then liked by me. Then came Vipp Notism’s opening line: “Wattebooty! — I mean the message, not the fellow.” To which I replied, “You can mean the fellow also... Liking him is above gender and sexuality :) He’s so above it all... *sighs* :P Thanks anyway :)”.
Now Vipp Notism said something here, but he also deleted it soon after. Something that spoke of a certain Rama Pedda Gundu Rao Bahadur Mangal being the only man who would suffice and the rest — he deleted it though! Anyway my reply was, “I am confused... lol :P Is Rama Pedda Gundu Rao Bahadur Mangal just a name to represent Pakkath Maney Figure... (in this case normal mens items) or is it an actual mix of a Golti Braahmin with a Nepali/Bihari/Bhojpuri? If so... I would like to meet this Rama Pedaa Gundu Rao Bahadur Mangal... Whatte interesting combination it will be this items... :) and what you mean when you say my jamsie cutsie is not a hotsie...? Please retract youvurr random projectile negatifications, or I might be forced to use my Brahmastra against you...! Be warned oh Vipp Notism! :P”. Vipp Notism duly liked it straight after and promptly replied with a “:-) he he he”.
Now I was not going to take this lying down (lol :P)… so I quickly responded, “What is he he he :( I want a answer ra :) please waste time and answer in detail, even if its the last thing you want to do :) I really really really want to meet Mr Gundsu :P”. Vipp Notism was quite the sweetheart and tried explaining… “lol, no unfortunately it (gundu) is not real, only as real as an acid trip, a faction of my imagination created in order to conduct fictitious social thought experiments...”
But would I give up? No way… so in typical Romalesque style I replied in full diraama, “You used me. As an experiment. *runs and throws himself at a nearby temple in front of a goddess statue as thunder and lightening crash and boom all around him* *with his sweat soaked hair he flings himself at the goddesses feet and asks for JUSTICE from these menses who have just USED and EXPERIMENTED on him...* *Jawab do maaaaaaaaaa! Mujhe Insaaaaaaf Do! Ek Bharatiya Purush Hone Ki Pavitrata Mein, Mujhe Insaaf Chahiyeeeeeeeee!* *faints from exhaustion of too much B-wood over-acting!* ”…
Vipp Notism would not except defeat… No chance… and so in a minute he posted… “:D ... han, maine tujhe istimaal kiya, kiya, aur karta rahunga, muahaha, apni devta se prarthna karte rehna, lekin kuch bhi nahin hoga kaliya, muahahaha, nyeeehahaha, *comes back and sits on the casting couch from diabetes and overweight* ‘ramu, chai bidi or chicken laana’ ”… which I liked.
In quick succession however he also added, “ *gets up to deliver one more line* ‘dhanno, mein tera istimaal karta rahunga, tu nachegi meri nishanon par, agar main kehta hun ki gundu hai, tu aur nachegi, nach chhamiya naach, varna tumhe lock-up ke andar dal kar chakki pisvaunga, and rast ob your life you will be chakki peecing and peecing and peecing’. *comes back, sits down on the couch* ‘rameshji, ab mera retirement ka time ho gaya’ ”… which I also liked, by the way.
Since I am super fast in my replies and bothered to only read the previous post, I replied, “I want to continue this... But what you just wrote is a masterpiece... so maybe we can have b-wood dialoged duels on some other conversation... by the way, thanks for making me feel like some weird mix of a raped stand-in actress who's only job is to get raped in a film + some random character out of Sholay + some weird pavitra stree from some South-made Goddess movie... It feels interestingly strange actually, the mix of all these elements... I likes :) Thanks :) I have to add this though... *Naheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Mujhe Insaaf Milegaa... Shayad iss janam mein nahin, lekin, aur bhi toh janmein hain... Mujhe Insaaf Milegaa... Aaap dekhte heen rehna Vipp Notism... yeh anth nahin hain, yehi toh shuruat hain!* *sputters blood far too many times more than required and dies* ”. To which he replied, “:D... interesting indeed yes, interesting indeed...”
But then, I suddenly realized I hadn’t replied the previous post, so I quickly added, “I likes the second delivery also yaar! Aap toh star nikle yaar! I am like the so impressed with you yaar! Main na, like, I am like, your sabse badi fan like, hoon :P”… to which promptly came the true Vipp Notism style of dialogue delivery in reply, “ ‘eh chickne, autograph chahiye kya?, yeh big V autograph denga na, toh puri ki puri fan-base phlat ho jayenga’, ‘eh chhotu, tu actor banna chahta kya?, bol, actor banna chahta kya?, ja, meri liye chai lekar aa, ja’...”, which I liked also!
I couldn't accept defeat either, so I super fastly replied, “arrey aap toh dialogue pe dialogue, dialogue pe dialogue de rahen hain... mujhe bahut shyness is coming for me... *flutters eyelids and bows head in faux-modesty* ”, to which he finally replied, “he he he :D”.
I assume we both won!
What an amazing conversation no?
Of course… there were more comments like Michelle Wilfred claiming she had first right over Marsden… But then we all know the truth :P — “ *gasp* .... Sigh!! oh BTW... HE IS MINE!! No matter what u say!! :) Oh don’t even think of arguing coz we’ve done that so many times!! And its not gonna do either of us any good :P ”
Could I but agree more? Coz’ he is after all MINE. ALL MINE. Vipp Notism or no Vipp Notism reply to that :P
the elements of this diasporaSaree Ads have a life of their own and more often than not, the best of these endorsements live on in the viewers mind, far longer than the stipulated airtime of the commercial. So while some of them are forgotten for eternity, some of them live on in the lives of fans such as me… Here is a list of my favourite Saree Ads — Ads that South Indian Ad Agencies are now masters at — They only seem to be getting better :)
Ad 1: THE RMKV BRIDAL SEVEN COLLECTION — The seven parts of a typical Tamizh Kalyaanam — Originally part of the RMKV Rukmini Kalyanam series, this ad in particular featuring Sandalwood hottie Daisy Bopanna, went on to make history on its own.
Ad 2: SHREE KANNIGA PARAMESHWARI SILKS — Quite a surprise this one, since Kanniga Parameshwari Silks didn’t really precede or succeed this ad with anything fabulous — I’m not too sure they even made another one. However, that apart, this ad is FABULOUS! The jingle is to die for and so damn hummable, it still hasn’t left me, almost a month after I discovered it. The ad features quite a few famous faces, but the only one that I could recognize was Manjari Phadnis from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na fame :)
Ad 3: THE CHENNAI SILKS VIVAAGA PATTU SERIES — PRINCE FROM ACROSS THE SEAS AD — This ad has made history on its own for being one of the first fairytale themed Saree ads. Several such ads have preceded this pioneer. I love the ad particularly because the jingle is so catchy, the ad has been shot so well, and the Chandravanshi prince is the Man of My Dreams! He’s so HAAAAAAAWT! :)
Ad 4: THE CHENNAI SILKS VIVAAGA PATTU SERIES — ANUSHKA SHETTY COLOURS COME TO LIFE AD — Anushka Shetty. Fabulous camera work. Superb Choreography. Exotic Location. Wonderful Sarees. Need I say more?
Ad 5: THE CHENNAI SILKS VIVAAGA PATTU SERIES — THE BRAAHMIN THIRUMANAM CEREMONIAL AD — This one is in my list, only because it’s so damn cute…! Watch it and see for yourself.
So there you have it, 5 OF THE BEST TAMIZH SAREE ADS EVER :)
'so don't turn off the lights...'
So am I a bad person? Because I couldn’t accompany my mom to a birthday party, even though my cold’s so bad, I’d give up my life, in an instant, if the choice was given to me!
Why are gay boys often taken for granted in a family? Now, if one of my brothers (who are all straight) had said NO, it would have been accepted, understood even. But with me, I need to deal with the long face, the mono-syllabic answers and a general behaviour that makes me feel like the biggest sinner in town. Sometimes I hate being gay.
Which brings me to the other part of this post — The ‘I hate my ex boyfriend’ part.
A friend recently asked me to write this out as an exercise to see what probably went wrong in my oh-so-glam love life. I wish! If nothing else, maybe this is another step towards closure? Please don’t guess as comments. If you really want to guess whom these people are… Mail me and I shall tell you :)
Here goes nothing…
You who grew up in front of my eyes, from weird hairstyles and a moustache, to sudden chic discovered. You who was OK to go down on me, only because I went down on you! You who held me close every time I slept over and taught me how I can fit on a single bed with you. You who kissed me in the moonlight and took me on long rides, telling me to hold on tight, lest I fall down and get hurt. You who crashed up with me on several occasions, all thanks to my hands who couldn’t control themselves. You who taught me to love and feel loved. I love you, yet I hate you for not loving me enough.
You who walked into my life, literally, one fine morning. You who called me every single day, only because you felt at peace, once you heard my voice. You who loved me in every possible way, but the physical. You who always wished I was a girl. You who smelt so bad at times, I needed to force you to use deodorant. You who won over my family, and carved a special niche in my life. You who made me feel more like a mother than a lover. You who blamed me for all your ‘bad habits’. You who abused me, whenever you felt like it. You who were an awesome lover, only because you were so passive. You who still reigns supreme in my heart, for some inexplicable reason. I hate you for making me love you so much. Yet, I love you.
You who talked me into loving you. You who did exceptionally romantic things and yet claimed to never feel ‘like that’ for me. You who had strange exceptionally cold hands. You who sang like an angel and loved most of what I loved. You who taught me to love myself. You who stole my heart, the first time I looked at you. I despise you for being so unfair to me. But karma comes full circle and hence I have hope.
You who gave up, before even trying, thanks to what a friend said. I have nothing to say to you. May you find what you are forever searching for!
You who were everything I asked for. You who was me in another prettier avatar. You who I could spend a whole night just talking to, about the most random things. You who hated the world knowing about what we shared. You who chose me over someone else. You who came into my life and left it with such style and panache, that I am still left wondering — Is it over? You were perfect. You were special. Probably you were too good to be true?
There, I feel much better now :)
voices echo over a din