SANGATHI ARINHYA? (HAVE YOU HEARD?)

I THINK I’VE LOST IT!!

NIRMALA SESHADRI
January 21st 2008

I must be a tad mad. I went to see the play “Sangathi Arinhya (Have You Heard?)” for the first time on Saturday. Attended the matinee show. The play went on for two hours and ten minutes, which is considered ‘l-o-o-o-o—ng’ by urban Indian standards. I don’t even know that I can say I enjoyed it thoroughly or understood it well enough. All I could say was that I liked what I had just been through. Somewhere deep down I knew it was good theatre. And that I wanted to see it again.

And so I went again, on Sunday. This time it was for the evening show. (I’m convinced now that except for the traffic consideration, plays should not be watched in the afternoon). And now, I want to see it again! Is something wrong with me? Am I getting old? Or am I going through one of my insecure phases when I need to keep engaging in the familiar? No, I don’t think it’s either. Not this time anyway. After watching it for the second time I know that what the group Perch has shown is not just good theatre. It’s a brilliant work of art. Indian art.

In my last eight years as a resident of Chennai I have often wondered why English theatre here is so preoccupied with the West when there is so much to explore right here. Often the only Indian factors are that the actors and audience are Indian and that the plays are being staged in India. Almost always I come away feeling dissatisfied and always the question in my mind “Why?”

And so when Rajiv Krishnan and his group presented Basheer’s “Moonshine and Skytoffee” a few years ago I sat up. That was also the first time that I watched Aparna Gopinath in action. She was effective then; now she has blossomed into a mature and complete actor. It was a long time ago but I remember the play was sensitively handled and engaging. Also, here the actors were not confused when it came to accent. There was nothing put on or stilted in the way they handled English on stage. Then a couple of years ago I watched Rajiv’s play, 'And Sunshine Follows The Rain', an adaptation of Tennessee William’s play, 'The Glass Menagerie'. The play provided an insight into the history and lives of a section of our society- the Anglo-Indian community. I was spellbound. It was magic- the way in which the script, acting, sets, lighting came together. The work left me on a prolonged high but there is a flip side to this. Nothing else seems to match up.

So what is it? What is it that makes me look forward to a play from Rajiv Krishnan and what is it, as in the case of this most recent work, that makes me think I just might watch it for a third time? Mind you, this is totally out of character as far as I am concerned!

All I can say is that it is a combination of factors which obviously come together to render it an exceptional work of art. For there is art and there is Art and in a city which has to live up to its label “cultural capital”, often too much is happening and passed off in the name of art. Life gets chaotic and futile. People are running around mindlessly to view art for various reasons, PR and Back-scratching exercises included, and so sometimes Brilliance may come and it may go-
unnoticed.

Back to Perch. The group dynamics. For some reason it seems to work well. It is evident in the performance that the actors have been at it for months and that there is strong rapport. Commitment. I know from experience that it is not easy to keep actors focused on a project for an extended period of time. There are other projects that come in the way and sometimes ennui sets in. But here is a group of individuals who are not just completely dedicated to theatre but to the themes that their director places before them. It is clear that ultimately the production is placed above all else. And even the production is part of a larger whole. With Perch, 'Festival' takes on a whole new inflection. Research. To present works such as these requires deep and sustained interest as well as stamina to delve into the subject and to do whatever it takes to arrive at the largest picture possible. Again, this group seems to have got this right with all of them having traveled to Kerala to do their research in various areas of the topic. And subsequently to bring it all together. Talent. There is no one in the play lacking in this department and there is tremendous energy that each actor brings to the stage space. They were stunning in their roles, transforming themselves constantly.

The length of the play. After my first viewing the one misgiving I had was that it was a bit too long. That perhaps it could have been edited. But interestingly the second time I didn’t feel the length at all. In fact the space, the gaps helped evoke a reciprocal emotion in me. I found that I needed the time. And then I wonder- what is tooooo long? Don’t people in this country watch movies (inane ones at that) that are at least three hours long? How then does a two-hour play become ‘too long’? Is there an ideal length for a performance art work? Doesn’t it depend on the content and quality of the performance? After watching it a second time I think if it is edited something at a very subtle level will be lost. After all, it is a weaving of seven short stories along with episodes from the life of the author. What a brilliant script!

And the range of emotions that it contained. The play moved from a rural sort of a humour, to pathos, loneliness, yearning, satire. And the devices used to bring out the stories. Who would ever have thought that three tyres could make one well. Or that a steel tub could make a gramophone player or that the plastic plates that we eat on could turn into long playing records? That a long pipe could become a nose and a garland and a rope. That men could play women, women could play men. That virtually anything is possible when the play is in the hands of an imaginative director and such talented actors!

Poetry and magic unfolded before my eyes. Even on the second day I was sitting there in anticipated excitement. I was laughing again, and this time even louder, at the same jokes. But also on the second day the pathos hit me. The script became clearer. The place of each scene in the entire whole was clear to me. If there is anything even remotely critical I have to say about the second day, it is that just as I, who had seen the play anticipated the moves, so seemed the actors. And that I felt at times took away from the naturalness of their actions and responses. Having said that, on the second day I noticed that here and there changes had been made, perhaps some of it planned and some spontaneous. On the second day I understood so much more and felt closer to what I was watching. The significance of the sound track for instance-they were not using music just for the sake of it. And that it is a many-layered play.

Basheer’s mind and his characters were brought to life by the team of actors. And when they all sat there at the end fanning Basheer who sat in his easy chair listening to MS Subbalakshni’s ‘Kattrinile Varum Geetham’ one could not help feel one in spirit with the actors, with Basheer. I felt a pride surge within me and a sense of belonging. A great high. These people had taken me to another world- Basheer's world.

What pulled me back were the baby in the audience that kept making awful distracting noises as well as the woman next to me who just wouldn’t let me enjoy a quiet moment with myself when it was over. She yanked me by the arm saying, “Come let’s stand up for them.” I’ve never been forced into a standing ovation.

I wasn’t forced into seeing the play a second time. And even the third time, if there is one, will be of my own volition. When good art beckons, like a long desired love, how can I not respond to it?