Tag Archive: theatre


Political Mother - Hofesh Schecter

Today – Political mother – By  Hofesh Schecter company – Where there is pressure , there is folk dance  ! – harmonious chaos or chaotic harmony ?? Innovative , the dance and music blend into each other  , the moves are emotive and energetic .Overall definitely worth it for the innovative mix of lighting-music-dance , but prefer watching contemporary  ballet ( waiting for a good cb troupe to tour  India…..)

August 24 – the DCH play @MPTF 2014, was more of like “Om Shanti Om”  song in that Farah Khan filck …… less of  theatre,  more of theatre personalities ,   but kudos to the trio for showcasing contemporary / budding  hyderabadi theatre /culture  ( courtesy , open cultural places like Lamakaan , the GZ and AF)

P.S:- ‘Tis been a week of discovering new sounds – thanks to OD @twitter for introducing me to the amazing Gillian welch – country music speaks to the soul

Also , ‘ THE BLACKLIST episodes have some really fab OSTs………….(but worth watchin’ for one-man show- “the Spader” – never disappoints. )

 

Hyderabad Literary Festival 2014 – January 26, 2014 11:30 am Sunday  Creative writing workshop , Madhu Kaza …… just write – Zen @ LMK – loved it…..looking forward to another work shop by Kaza

13-Mar-2014  Women’s Poetry: Poetry Readings Curated By S.Swami  @ GZ, wanna go nxt yr too

29th march 2014 – Flea market – @ the first Twin City Theater and Cultural Festival  @ Roots

June 07, 2014  Saturday – Dramanon -“A Four Letter word”.Play @ LMK – Ganesh- vulnerable , R.Ghosh – slips into characters , Saurabh amazing !……..song at the end of the “blind blanch ” , nash – sunshine- moved ……..  lifted my low spirits

Macbeth – Nishumbita

Greed and treachery – The Hindu.

With Samurai-ish costumes and Tai chi like graceful dance with the sword , was regaled with some excellent delivery of Shakespearean gems by the actors, especially the ones playing Macbeth  , Lady Mac , Duncan …..looking forward to more plays by Nishumbita.

A scene from William Shakespeare's Macbeth staged by Nishumbita. Photo: G. Ramakrishna

Aug 24th 2013 – loved the play – HTS Giraffe @ RB on Aug 24th  – Witty Satirification – i reviewed  it @The Hindu as satirical questionification ,  – (my first ever review to get published  ,surprise surprise ?!?! )Many points worth pondering ……..Vanilla urbanisation , people on blind dates conversing about how many friends / albums they have on Social Networks , the decline of free thinking etc.etc. – worth introspecting .

review

Review

JS @ RamaKrishna Math ……… Spiritual / philosophical gems explained by monks . Excerpts :

Can one really understand / get 2 know reality unless one knows god ?

Death moves with us as our shadow.

The ‘I’ /Ego is like a bullock tied to a tree – just keeps going round and round.

He who hides himself best , accomplishes the most – after  all ,  the Lord is hidden.

Conquer yourself and the whole world is yours.

Meditation is like taking bath in the holy waters of the mind.

Food at this makaan

Food at this makaan – The Hindu.

Reading this sent me into a reminiscent mode……LM and ofcourse Nishrinkala (q-m-play). Though famous for the samosas , loved the Nimboo Pani – quenching the parched throat after rehearsing ( shouting ) the lines umpteen times with your partner . The essential ingredient was V mam , who made this experience ( first and last for amateurs like myself ) , a worthwhile ride …..Thank you mam .

(P.S  just noticed the THE paani was mentioned in the article too …..totally  worth it )

‘Artistic labour is power’

‘Artistic labour is power’ – The Hindu.

Prasanna always had a rebellious streak. He quit IIT to pursue his passion for theatre. Inspired and initiated into theatre by B.V. Karanth, Prasanna joined the National School Drama (NSD). During the Emergency, he returned to Karnataka and founded Samudaya, a radical theatre movement for workers and masses. They staged street plays, protest plays and propagated their political thought in villages. For a while he was a visiting faculty at NSD. For a couple of years, he worked for an independent television company in New Delhi. He gave this up and left the capital.

That was a phase when Prasanna was disenchanted with theatre and almost gave up on his passion. The man who created noted stage productions like Tughlaq , Gandhi , Thai , Neele Ghode , Ek Lok Katha , Shakuntalam , The Ascent of Fujiyama moved to Heggodu, a small village in Karnataka. Here, he started Charaka, a multi-purpose women’s cooperative, while occasionally writing and sometimes dabbling in direction and teaching. A Sangeet Natak Akademi awardee, Prasanna is currently a Tagore Fellow at the Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla. Prasanna recently released his book Indian Method in Acting at the Kulasekhara Theatre Festival in Kochi and talked about theatre, activism, Charaka and more. Excerpts from the interview.

Photo: Thulasi Kakkat

The state of regional theatre today…

There is a huge crisis, what I call machine-induced culture, where cinema and television have taken over entertainment. For the common man, this is theatre. We now have a huge number of artistes and audiences watching television and cinema instead of theatre. The participatory element of theatre is gone. Theatre has also become technology-driven. The actor has slipped into the background.

Is there a deep divide between urban and rural theatre?

People’s theatre is dying because of impoverishment in the villages. Gradually we have been seeing performances in the villages reducing, in small towns too. In the 1940s and 1950s there was this attempt to revive and keep it alive through the Indian People’s Theatre Movement and the like. They went to the people, connected with them and theatre returned. Then in the 1970s and 1980s Habib Tanvir and B.V. Karanth tried. But the situation is still bleak.

How did Charaka, the women’s cooperative, happen?

At times you tend to become inarticulate because of anger and frustration. I lost faith in the arts. When I left Delhi and NSD, I knew I was going to almost quit theatre too. Those were difficult times; I was confused, angry, frustrated. Charaka made me cool down and look at life positively. I have not given up theatre but now I do it on my terms, from Heggodu with either the villagers or someone who wants me to teach or direct.

Intellectual, spiritual or artistic labour is not labour but a power. People in villages tend to leave in search of better pastures. I tried to stop this. Charaka is engaged in producing naturally dyed cotton handloom garments, marketing it under the brand name “Desi”. It is a self-sufficient cooperative in the sense that once raw yarn is purchased, everything else happens in-house. The workers are their own paymasters here and earn handsomely. We have 11 Desi retail outlets across Karnataka. The demand for the products is so high that we cannot start any new outlets. Desi has been very successful, beyond my dreams.

How tough was this initiative for a theatre activist?

Initially there was a lot of resistance. Groups tried to stop me from doing this because I had this Marxist tag. But it was a learning experience. I learned that, in a village, you cannot be a “red rag.” You cannot be branded. A whole lot of changes happened in me ideologically. I still believe in socialism, but I don’t believe in pushing angrily for it.

theatre workshop

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Maughammmmm ,thku for LD , done wid the amateur theatre workshop by the amazing Vaishali Bisht , i can  r.i.p   now , with the knowledge that i managed to do  my fav piece in this lifetime . Can’t believe I did a play at lamakaan …. has increased my respect for theatre , after having a first-hand taste of how much work goes into it , (thank you ma’m ) and got to know about A.Boal , want to research more about drama therapy – healing……

Theater of the Oppressed , freud etc.

http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/08/14/wilhelm-reich-6-rules-for-creative-sanity/

Drama therapy–  Augusto Boal http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theater_of_the_Oppressed –  the audience becomes active, such that as “spect-actors” they explore, show, analyse and transform the reality in which they are living.

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http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/10/15/freud-creative-writers-and-day-dreaming/

http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/01/21/nabokov-on-what-makes-a-good-reader/  – “A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader.

  1. The reader should identify himself or herself with the hero or heroine.
  2. The reader should have imagination.
  3. The reader should have memory.
  4. The reader should have some artistic sense.

The hopeless human predicament

 

http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-sundaymagazine/the-hopeless-human-predicament/article4324615.ece

Nothing much is happening in their wretched lives. “Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.” All they can do is to wait with anxiety and trepidation the arrival of Godot.

As Vladimir states: “But that is not the question. Why are we here; that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come.”

So the two men, doomed to one another’s company in desolate surroundings, pass time bantering and bickering, singing and reminiscing, laughing and crying to relieve the monotony of their endless ‘wait’. They voice profound metaphysical questions interspersed with small talk. Their emotions change in quick succession, as if to reveal the contradictions that the human self is steeped in. Vladimir and Estragon desperately need one another in order to avoid living a life of loneliness and alienation. “Didi” and “Gogo” — their nicknames — demonstrate the intimacy of their relationship. Yet, every now and then they feel compelled to leave one another.

Estragon: Wait! (He moves away from Vladimir.) I sometimes wonder if we wouldn’t have been better off alone, each one for himself. (He crosses the stage and sits down on the mound.) We weren’t made for the same road.

Vladimir: (without anger) It’s not certain.

Estragon: No, nothing

The pathos in Didi and Gogo’s need for each other and the anguish in their desire to escape their plight are palpable just as the absurdity in the situation of pointless waiting is evident. They do not know who Godot is. They are neither sure about the time nor the place of their appointment. They do not even know what will happen if they stopped waiting. Lack of this basic knowledge makes them powerless and insignificant. The tramps cannot but wait for Godot.

Ironically, the much-awaited Godot is never ever going to arrive.

Each day is a return to the beginning and each day passes in circuitous conversation.

Will they forever keep circling? Will they ever find closure? Perhaps not, because the universe that Beckett presents before us is devoid of design, purpose or care.

The intermingling of absurdist comedy with black humour redeems and lightens the inherently tragic theme. The spectators break out of their self-imposed inertia, rock with the rhythm of the play, pity and fear, laugh and cry. Waiting for Godot encapsulates the human condition brilliantly. It connects with our life and our situation. It seems to echo our deepest fears, confronts us with our naked self and our predicament, our stark loneliness — conditions not imposed by any outsider but by our own selves.

The play ends on that very note of bleak desperation. The unhappy vagrants, their questions unanswered, their hopes dashed, speak the final lines “Well? Shall we go?” Estragon answers, “Yes, let’s go,” but neither moves. The curtain falls over their immobility, over their inner paralysis.

I have spent two and a half hours balanced on a gossamer thread stretched between tension and excitement, astonishment and pure wonder. I have just witnessed a dramatic masterpiece, a timeless tale — a philosophical quest that is universal and eternal. I am out of the play but still in the play, haunted by the hopelessness of the human predicament.

As I walk by the meandering Liffey and the quays in downtown Dublin in the cool December breeze, I feel humbled by my own insignificance and an overwhelming sense of waiting for something undefinable in ‘the cosmic waiting room’.