Wake-up Calls.
There's something so, so, so wonderful, about getting done with something. Done, over, finished. Every last *thing* that just is hanging around, and you've been so loathe to do, you've managed to get done. You've managed to get rid of all the hangovers. And saying that it's a really nice feeling is an understatement.
Of late, I've been doing something I love. Going to the theatre. A lot. Hai! Such beauty naa, such a homecoming. The other day, I wasn't sure whether I ought to cry. I was in the light room, and I forgot where the light switch was. As in not like I knew where it was, but I couldn't place it in the moment. More like I just didn't know where it was. Or what it looked like. Fie, fie, fie on me. But it was a good show. I have never seen 90% of Mumbai's theatre-wallahs in one place, at one time. Let alone in one place, for 24 hours. Atleast. So here's what happened: 12 playwrights (3 from each of four languages) were given a singular common theme. They started writing, and gave in their scripts in 12 hours, and then 12 "prolific" directors picked a script. The next day, these 12 "prolific" directors drew lots for actors. These lovely people put up their plays that very night. Uff, what joy! I spent 2 hours editing music and bending over boxes, taping them, simultaneously breaking my back. Then I spent 4 hours crammed in weird poses with a multitude of people. So crammed, I couldn't move my little toe. So crammed I could here the goosebumps rising on the next person's skin. Crammed, hot, filled with people.
What a beautiful feeling that was naa. That sudden, "oh, this is mine. this belongs to me, and I belong to it," feeling that just pulls you naa.
Today too, some loveliness. Atul's pregnant wife performed. Their kid's already made his debut, what fun! But before that, the granddaddy of all of them - Habib Sa'ab (Kunal, if you saw him perform today, you'd start calling him that too, that man is too much!!!), all of near-90, comes wheezing, sits on the dias, and talks of the harmful effects of tobacco (die all of you who don't know Chekhov). So, so old, so frail. So amazing.
What to say. It's too much only, suddenly waking up to all that you've missed. It's heartbreaking, and it's exhilerating all at the same time, because, at some point, you know you missed so much, but you realised it in time to not miss it forever.
Of late, I've been doing something I love. Going to the theatre. A lot. Hai! Such beauty naa, such a homecoming. The other day, I wasn't sure whether I ought to cry. I was in the light room, and I forgot where the light switch was. As in not like I knew where it was, but I couldn't place it in the moment. More like I just didn't know where it was. Or what it looked like. Fie, fie, fie on me. But it was a good show. I have never seen 90% of Mumbai's theatre-wallahs in one place, at one time. Let alone in one place, for 24 hours. Atleast. So here's what happened: 12 playwrights (3 from each of four languages) were given a singular common theme. They started writing, and gave in their scripts in 12 hours, and then 12 "prolific" directors picked a script. The next day, these 12 "prolific" directors drew lots for actors. These lovely people put up their plays that very night. Uff, what joy! I spent 2 hours editing music and bending over boxes, taping them, simultaneously breaking my back. Then I spent 4 hours crammed in weird poses with a multitude of people. So crammed, I couldn't move my little toe. So crammed I could here the goosebumps rising on the next person's skin. Crammed, hot, filled with people.
What a beautiful feeling that was naa. That sudden, "oh, this is mine. this belongs to me, and I belong to it," feeling that just pulls you naa.
Today too, some loveliness. Atul's pregnant wife performed. Their kid's already made his debut, what fun! But before that, the granddaddy of all of them - Habib Sa'ab (Kunal, if you saw him perform today, you'd start calling him that too, that man is too much!!!), all of near-90, comes wheezing, sits on the dias, and talks of the harmful effects of tobacco (die all of you who don't know Chekhov). So, so old, so frail. So amazing.
What to say. It's too much only, suddenly waking up to all that you've missed. It's heartbreaking, and it's exhilerating all at the same time, because, at some point, you know you missed so much, but you realised it in time to not miss it forever.
posted by bluegreenflysplat at 2:01 pm
2 Comments:
;-) am VERY glad ure back to doing wat u love, babe. welcome home.
thanks love. didn't know you missed me so... very cute all this love overflowing...
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