Another day with a pair'a'dice

Q Theatre Productions brought down to India, an interesting play from New York called To The Death of My Own Family. Farah Bala, an actor, director and teaching artist, orginally from Bombay, was the only actor in this just-short-of-one-hour production about an Afghani-born American citizen in these paranoid times.

The play starts off with Nadeema (Farah), locked up on her entry back into the US following a harrowing trip to Afghanistan with her mother and siblings to rescue her father from the Taliban. As it turns out, her entire family is killed, and she returns to New York without even her baggage. She is then arrested and questioned.

The set consisted of a single bleak table and chair, and a single harsh overhead light provided a stark feel to the performance. The only prop was a small plastic packet containing scraps of letters and documents and other items (her sister's lipstick, the AK47 cartridge that killed her brother) that Nadeema manages to cling onto while escaping from Afghanistan.

The play itself is a mixed bag. The playwright David L Meth (you can visit his website to know more about him) tries to talk about the paranoia that is gripping the United States "much like the fear that was manufactured agains Americans of Japanese Heritage during World War II". However, my overall impression after watching the play was more of shock and anger against the atrocities committed by the Taliban.

During the post-production Q&A session, both David and the director (Peter Ratray) tried to say that the play was not necessarily about Afghanistan, but for all communities "since we all are minorities somewhere in the world". But that didn't quite gel with me. While the play was set around the fact that Nadeema had been arrested on entry into the US even though she was a US citizen and had grown up in New York, it seemed (to me at least) that she was trying to convince the authorities of the terrible things going on in Afghanistan.

In spite of this dichotomy of perspectives, Farah in the role of Nadeema was extremely good. Her performance was strong and moving. Her portrayal of her conversations with her family (playing both sides) was extremely believable, and she was able to make the audience empathise with her plight. Of course, one of her biggest strengths was her movements. Most actors in Bangalore are extremely limited and self-conscious while moving on stage, and it was a refreshing change to watch someone who could use the stage like it is meant to be used.

Overall, it was a good production, with some food for thought. I wish we had been able to see more of what the playwright had in mind, but nonetheless, a worthwhile one hour.

After a really long hiatus, I am back to blogging again. As always, it's likely that this is not likely to last more that a post or two, but in any case, let's hope for the best.

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Thanks to N, I have finally found my VisualDNA.... What's yours?

Today is 26th January. It is India's 58th Republic Day. It is the 58th time that we as a nation have come together to celebrate the forming of a republic which is governed by a constitution that states:

WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into
a SOVEREIGN SOCIALIST SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC and to secure to all its citizens:

JUSTICE, social, economic and political;
LIBERTY of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship;
EQUALITY of status and of opportunity;
and to promote among them all FRATERNITY assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the Nation;

But just a week ago, Bangalore, one of the 6 largest cities in India, witnessed riots under the guise of religion. Is this our definition of secular?

We are a country of countless races, cultures, languages and religions. Yes, even though a majority of us are Hindus, and a significant number of us are Muslims, Christians, Buddhists and Jains, we have such a variety of religious beliefs in our country, it is almost impossible to determine who or what all we worship.

But we are not a secular country. The state is not separate from religion. Our politicians use religion any which way they will, for whatever benefit. Is the hanging of Saddam Hussein, really relevant to Muslims in India? Whether I believe in capital punishment or not, whether I believe that the War in Iraq is right or not (not - in case you're wondering), it is absolutely clear that he was a mass-murderer. It is not about religion or faith or belief. So why should political parties gain mileage from this?

But it doesn't end there, does it? The riots were repeated in greater intensity two days later, when a bunch of right wing extremist Hindu fundamentalists, spurred on by some political big-wig or the other, got together to do their own burning, beating and rioting. A 11 year old boy was killed when police opened fire after a cop was stabbed.

This is all far from secular in my opinion. Secularity means: I will not tell you what to believe in, and you will not tell me what I should believe in either. It means that I should not have to stop at any major intersect in the city and see huge banners advocating some particular religion.

If I should choose to go to a temple or a mosque or a church or any other place of worship, it should be my choice. It should not be allowed to be pushed in my face. That is truly secular. I hope that at some point, when I celebrate Republic Day, I will not feel that somehow, somewhere, we have let the people who wrote our constitution down.

As it always does, the new year has come around again. This year began, like many years have begun in the past, with no one actually sure when the year came around. So, we did the "Happy New Year" bit twice. Once straight up, and once with a count-down (although I am pretty sure the New Year had actually come and gone!). The party was at a friend's place. I am sure that if we had gone to one of the more fancy, 'organised', parties, we might have had a DJ or MC counting down for us. That would still have been no guarantee that the time would have been correct.

But now is the time for reflection. In short, the time has come to deal with the crisis of identity and destination once again. More plainly: Who am I and Where am I going?

My wife asks me every new year if I have made any resolutions. I steadfastly answer that I have not, and nor am I planning to. This for some reason seems to infuriate her. But I am not trying to be difficult. It just seems a pointless waste of time for me to make resolutions, when there are such bigger questions to ask. Are we alone in the Universe? Is the kettle boiling? Has George Bush made up a mind (since he doesn't have one of his own)? And most importantly, what am I going to eat for dinner?

You may think I am being flippant, and rightly so. I am being flippant. The last year has taught me one thing: Whatever you expect to happen may or may not happen, but you can be sure that things you didn't even realise might happen, do happen.

A year ago, today, my life was very different. My wife and I were in jobs different from the ones we are in right now; today she is on the verge of quitting, and I am disenchanted with my boss. Good friends we had, good friends we lost. People we thought we could rely on weren't there, and the people we didn't realise were there, suddenly came through. Old friends reconnected, some after so many years, that meeting them again was an adventure in itself.

Whatever the new year brings for me, I can be sure of one thing - keeping on my feet is going to be no less difficult than in the past, just different, in ways I can hardly fathom.