Good?  (Lights off: Darkness: Lights on (faint), scrapes of paper, a jar of pickles, bottles, no contraceptives, plastic bgs, packets of chips (empty I guess), polythene bags, no contraceptives (perhaps the reason for the child’s voice), packets, the performing space littered, fx: sound of a baby crying, lights off)  End of the first of the 9 dramaticules (sic) – Breath, presented by JUDE and directed by Dr Ananda Lal as a tribute to Samuel Beckett, who, if alive, would have celebrated his hundredth birthday on the 13th  of April this year.

Bad?

Well. Once a year we get to watch a production where life threatening glass pieces hang loosely from the sets, humans (props) perform as trees swaying throughout the play with posters of men with just enough innerwear forming the backdrop and now, economics of a different kind, economizing costs, words, and expressions. It is inane to categorize these once a year JUDE productions as good or bad. They are best described as “unique theatrical experiences”.

On 13^th April, those who made it on time and  found a seat at Padatik Little Theatre witnessed the nine miniscule presentations which the Director claims have been attempted by very few in India with nobody anywhere having put them together in this sequence.

While watching the second presentation I felt my first contribution to Quill & Ink will be challenging enough. On this Good Friday eve, we saw two bodies (may I say female thieves) in separate sacks, popping out the moment a boom like structure hits them, one at a time. Like the child that begins life coming out of the mother’s womb,  these figures emerge to participate in life’s routine time table. They are born, they get dressed (Godot Style, unzipped trousers), eat (their respective carrots), and go back to the sack. The only difference being while one accepts the routine with pathos, apology and irony, the other bounces off merrily.

Since Padatik decided to follow Prithvi Theatre like discipline, Tathagata Singha, the upcoming talent who directed  “Waiting for Godot” last year missed this performance of the female actors who brought out the difference in the characters acting “without words”, simply with body language and gestures, conveying a lot more.

Unique Point?!: Regardless of the obvious difference in the waist size of the actors Shayani Bhattacharya and Sukanya Chakraborti, both managed to fit into the same trousers in turns.

 The next “dramaticule” Come and Go is my personal favourite since it is the least communicative; in other words, the most “absurd” to me. But later, for this one too, I seek refuge in Martin Eslin and realize  that all these presentations “have something to say and can be understood”. This miniature playlet was first performed in 1966 at the studio of the Schiller Theatre, West Berlin. I wonder how “absurd” it would be to try and connect the three characters of Vi, Ru and Flo with Mrs Indira Gandhi.

(Trivia: Mrs Gandhi was the second woman in the history of the modern world to head an elected government after Mrs Sirimavo Bandaranaike of Ceylon, and she assumed the role of Indian Prime Minister only five days after the first performance of Come and Go)

The dramaticule, with Rohini Chaki, Soumiti Datta and Priyanka Gupta in the cast, dealt with what in pure Bong jargon is known as PNPC. For the uninitiated (mostly, justifiably so), it is the practice of indulging in gossip about the missing “third” in a group of three persons. A very common phenomenon in Indian politics, PNPC shone through in all its glory through the characters of Vi, Ru and Flo, reminding one of the oh-so-regular grumblings of the ruling party, the common man and the opposition. The robotic expressions and dialogue delivery once again indicated monotony. Apparently, Jhumadi’s workshops have trained the Jadavpur University (JU) trio to maintain the robotic body language and to break free during the “Whispers in the Ears”.

Rockababy, performed by Inam Hussain Mullick with voice over by Ayan Guha, would perhaps be best remembered for the intricate light and set design. While the light design was, like everything else, very correctly complementing the evening’s spirit of “minimum”, the rocking chair and the use of cut mirrors for face light reminded me of Theatrecian’s production of “The Lesson”. Theatre being an audio-visual medium, such pieces capture the audience’s (whom else) attention and indulges them to exercise the sensory organs to the maximum.

Inam also provided the stop gap music after each piece, and is also credited with the Brochure design. I especially mention the brochure since its design and the young poet’s performance have one thing in common – they are both extremely blurred. With each paragraph, verse read by Ayan Guha, the voice grew weaker and thus older. However, the stiffness of the body and the widening of the mouth to compliment the words and the voice could perhaps be more detailed. The whole intent was, after all, to synchronize the monotony and isolation of old age with the rocking of the chair.

Catastrophe is an interesting play that reminds me instantly of our Hindi film Heroines, or rather the state they are trapped in. Perhaps I am wrong here. Not our Hindi film Heroines but more likely the television serial stars, especially the “K” powered ones. Sukanya Chakraborti, having returned to the sack unzipped in “Act without Words”, returns here as the “the girl” chosen to be whitened and directed to show skin and to listen to orders. Maintaining the London Statuesque expression, Sukanya again does a commendable job, though one has to wonder if Surjo Deb, essaying the part of the director, could have worked  a little more on the voice modulations. In a theatre the size of PLT1 a sudden loud voice falling just short of a shrill is jarring to the ear. Perhaps a slightly restrained performance with more attitude would work. Priyanka Gupta as the assistant had to change, not just her costume but the whole body language and attitude from that of Flo in “Come and Go”, and she certainly did justice to her role in Catastrophe.

 “Ohio Impromptu" saw Soumiti Dutta perform the part of Reader with Priyadarshini Mitra as the listener . I must admit that by now I was finding it difficult to concentrate, and was reminded of the Director’s what by now seemed warning “Please remember Beckett”. Again, Martin Eslin was mentally called to the rescue – what one must understand is that Theatre of the Absurd allows one to avoid rigid definitions and interpretations, leading to a policy of avoiding any attempt of what “really means”.  When Beckett’s Godot was staged for the convicts at San Quentin’s Penitentiary, they not just comprehended, but drew personal conclusions as I draw now, having been a victim of an education system could relate to “Ihio Impromptu”, the crux being the teacher and the student, or the reader and the listener and the power play between the two.

My two pennies worth: It was a study towards an understanding of what one reads, why one reads what one reads and how one should read what is  to be read.

 The projector used in “What Where” was an interesting concept. The director’s attempt at making the best use of the audio visual medium was the maximum here. At the start of the play, the director did warn, “Keep Beckett in Mind”.

 I wonder why Krapp’s Last Tape, yet another dramaticule in which “elusiveness of the self is exemplified by the impertinence of the impermanence of the human personality in time”, - Martin Eslin (again!) was ignored.  A play similar in spirit is Footfalls which according to the director’s note, was scripted in 1976. . Priyadarshini Mitra as May performs the role of the elderly woman who passes to and fro, while her voice and that of her mother (Shayani Bhattacharyya) are heard. Both actors compliment each other, with the performance and the voice over. Priyadarshini manages to maintain a certain style of walking with her feet apart and Shayani Bhattacharya with her voice over does a commendable job.

 A Piece of Monologue, the last of the presentations, had a performance by Rohini Chaki. If only the backstage indiscipline of the students could be ignored because of the onstage brilliance, this story of a woman who all her life follows the same routine would have been my personal favourite. If only I did not hear the protagonist, once the lights were off, scream in a college girl spirit “I could have Cried…”

 The Final Word? Notwithstanding the minor bits of faux pas,  it was an evening of a superb theatrical experience.

(c) Tathagata Chowdhury April 2006