Sunday, July 28, 2019
Bombay
Celebrating St. Anne's Feast at Dad's and Dear Liar at Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
Wow! Today was a most unusual day--but then almost every day in Bombay has been unpredictable. I have rarely had a dull moment!
I was awake at 6.30 am and felt almost relieved that I did not have to rush off to church--as I went last night for the Saturday evening Mass. Instead, I downloaded the Sunday Times of London and finally finished my audio book (The Silkworm by R.K. Galbraith, aka JK Rowling). I have to say that I did not realize who the killer was till the last revelation and that I have grown to rather like the detecting couple: Cormoran Strike (How like JKR to give her protagonist a name like that!) and his assistant, Robin (Batman and Robin?) I have dowloaded Circe by Madeline Miller, also as an audio book, but with only 6 days left before I have to return it (and the book is in hot demand right now), I doubt I shall actually finish it.
So not long after my breakfast of chappatis with spreads (getting over quickly), I went off to Dad's place to make sure all was in control. You see, this afternoon was supposed to be a farewell lunch for me at which my cousins would be present at Bandra Gym. But when I realized, last night, that today was St. Anne's Feast, I did not feel comfortable leaving Dad and Russel alone for the feast lunch. So I sent out a text to my cousins asking if they would not mind moving the venue to Dad's place. They all thought it was a great idea but still insisted on splitting the cost. Of course, I would have nothing of it. Back at Dad's, Rohit had done a great job getting all the china and silverware out and setting up the living room, the dining table, etc. I made sure everything was in place and was actually present when the bottles of beer were delivered. I then left and hurried home for a shower and to order the food.
I did that as soon as I got home. We decided to have a Chinese menu with Chicken Singapore Noodles, Chicken in Honey Ginger Sauce and Vegetables in Hot Garlic Sauce. There were also fuggias, potato chops and pan rolls that I had picked up yesterday from the church fete and these we would put out on the table too.
I had just finished showering when my guy Sameer called from Bandra Gym to tell me that my food was ready for pick up. I left my place and was Bandra Gym in five minutes and carrying the food to Dad's, I was there just before 1.00 pm. A few of my cousins had already arrived. I apologized for the delay and then Meera got down to the task of taking drinks orders and furnishing them while I handled the nibbles--putting spicy peanuts and potato chips into bowls. And so the party began. We were about a half hour into it when my cousin Bonnie arrived. Linnet had bought a cake which said 'Happy Feast' on it and so we decided to serve it for dessert.
Soon, it was time to heat the food and get it organized and I did so with a bit of help from Meera, Dad and Rohit. Since we were a small group of just nine folks, it was very easy and I was not in the slightest bit stressed. The meal was much appreciated and we had the best time. I do not remember laughing so much with all my cousins in such a long time. Russel was also part of the evening in his wheelchair, Dad who was still not quite fighting fit, was mainly relaxing or just walking in to offer his help and so it went on. The afternoon just flew as we chatted nineteen to the dozen and listened to a lot of the conversation that Russel was making. I felt really pleased with myself that I had made the decision to move the party over to Dad's as Russel and he also had a grand time.
For dessert, we cut the cake Linnet brought and we all put our hands on the knife as it was a Feast Day for Dad, Russel, Meera, Cyril and myself as we all belong to St. Anne's parish. I had purchased little pots of vanilla ice-cream for dessert and so I served that too for dessert--it went really well with what turned out to be a fresh cream-pineapple layer cake. I also took orders for tea and as everyone wanted tea, that was what I ended up making. I keep repeating myself but it really was a fun time!
My cousin Bonnie also broke the news that her daughter Hailey was getting married on December 30 and she told me that she hoped to see me at the wedding. I was happy to get the news well in advance. I can now plan my next trip to Bombay keeping in mind that I have a big family wedding to attend--probably the last of the family weddings as Hailey is almost the youngest of my cousin's kids. It certainly gives me something to which I can look forward on my next trip to Bombay!
It was actually 5.00 pm by the time my cousins got up to leave--by which time I was ready to leave myself--for my next appointment. I wheeled Russel back to his room as his attendant Rohit had left for the 4.30 pm evening Mass in Hindi at St. Teresa's Church. That done, I hurried off to meet my friend Maria whom I was meeting at her gate for our date at the theater. Five minutes later, she was picking me up from Dad's gate by rick and we were off.
Maria happens to be the next-door neighbor of Naseeruddin Shah, the actor, who has lived in the same building for over three decades with his wife, Ratna Pathak-Shah who was my classmate at Elphinstone College. They were in a full-length duet on stage called Dear Liar by Jerome Kitty, based on the long romantic relationship between the playwright George Bernard Shaw and the stage actress Mrs. Patrick (Kitty) Campbell. I had seen them in the same play, thirty years ago, when I used to be a theater critic for the Bombay press. The play was put on again to celebrate the Ruby (40h Anniversary) of Motley, the Theater Company that Naseer and his best drama school buddy Benjamin Gilani, had founded. When I had interviewed Naseer, about three months ago (how time flies!) he had told me about Motley's anniversary but I was not sure that I would still be in Bombay at this time.
Anyway, Motley is celebrating its fortieth anniversary with a festival of plays at the Prithvi Theater where the career of so many of the stars took off. Nasser became the most successful of the lot but every single one of them breathed life into Bombay's theater world and I was very fortunate to have been there at the very beginning when it all began. For that reason, I was very happy to be present with Maria, forty years later, to see a play that I had seen on stage when it had been originally staged by the same two actors--who, since then, got married and had two children. Based on the interesting, if off-beat relationship between two talented and very feisty characters, the play made superb watching. It was also very realistically portrayed by these veteran actors whose few verbal gaffs on stage only made the production more credible. Maria and I loved it as they played to a full-house in the small Prithvi Theater. I am glad that I finished my year of Fulbright research in Bombay with this play. I am now looking forward to returning home to Southport and starting work on what will become my book.
Maria and I took a rick back when a delightful evening at the theater ended. She had to hop off soon to meet her cousins for dinner at the Marriott Hotel but I carried on home to Bandra.
I had dinner chez moi--the remains of the Vietnamese pho (with strange black noodles) that I had carried from Anil and Ninaz's place last night when our evening had ended so suddenly with Anil's illness. I also ate a bit of the Chocolate Vertigo Cake that I bought from the cafeteria at the Prithvi Theater with some of the Belgian Chocolate Ice-cream that I bought yesterday from Huber and Holly.
While eating, I watched a really fantastic movie called The Next Three Days with Russel Crowe and Elizabeth Banks--a real thriller if ever there was one. Knowing, as you all now do, that I tend to fall asleep in front of the telly, I will tell you that I was wide awake as the adrenalin had pumped right through my system with the excitement of the film that kept me on the edge of my seat. This is compelling watching! Please watch this movie!!!
I then had a long chat with Llew with whom I had not spoken for quite a while. We caught up before I realized that it was 1.00 am and fell asleep!
Until tomorrow...
Showing posts with label Prithvi Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prithvi Theatre. Show all posts
Monday, July 29, 2019
Sunday, April 7, 2019
A Superb Sunday Ends with Superb 'Vagina Monologues' at the Prithvi Theater
Sunday, April 7, 2019
Bombay
A Superb Sunday Ends with Superb 'Vagina Monologues' at the Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
A Rude Awakening:
It feels good when you have had a good Sunday to crown off a good weekend! Mine was superb!
It feels blissful to awake at a decent hour and I was still fast asleep when an awful din next door woke me up! These flats really do have paper-thin walls, my door is simply too close to my only neighbor's, they leave their door open all day (a custom among many Hindus, I am told) and they have zero consideration for the fact that there is actually someone (Moi!) living next door. Be that as it may, it sounded as if a gaggle of guys was going off on a picnic.
I waited for a few minutes for the din to subside and when it did not, since I was, by then, wide awake and furious, I got out of my bed, opened the door (just as they were leaving with loud goodbyes to those inside the flat) and said to them, "Could you keep the noise down, please? It is 6.30 on a Sunday!" They had the good grace to apologize (probably they had no idea that there was actually someone living next door) and fled. Silence returned but, by then, my sleep was disturbed and I was up and ready to take on another Sunday.
Dad Takes Ill:
I blogged, checked Twitter, downloaded the Sunday Times of London on my iPad, browsed a bit through the magazine section and then got out of bed. I washed, put a chapatti in the microwave to eat something before leaving the house for Mass and spreading it with Sainsbury's Three Fruits Marmalade, I wolfed it down with coffee. Simultaneously, I got dressed and then left for church where I was doing the commentary (Introduction, Prayers of the Faithful and Notices for the Week) at the 9.15 Mass. Just before leaving my studio, I called Dad to ask if he would meet me at the gate of his building, only to hear him sounding dreadful on the phone. I knew immediately that he was unwell. Turns out he had the beginnings of an attack of vertigo (after absolutely ages)--thanks, he thinks, to the continuous hours of IPL cricket matches to which he has been riveted on TV. He popped a couple of pills and decided to take the morning easy while I hurried on for Mass.
All went well although I was a tad nervous as I had never done the commentary at Mass before. After Mass, I picked up a Punjabi samosa for Russel as the vada pau were over and then went over to see Dad. He was lying down quietly and said that he was feeling dizzy although he has no nausea. Thankfully, Rohit had taken care of Russel's breakfast and everything was in control. I read out the notices for the week to Russel but then realized that I had taken a photo of the wrong set from the church notice board--last week's instead of this week's. Anyway, I left Dad's place quickly and told them I would return with Lunch.
Lunch with Dad and Russel:
Back home, I made myself a small bowl of muesli as I realized that I was already hungry with the one chapati I had eaten. I also got down to transcribing one interview (part of my backlog) with Alfred D'Souza of the Stop Gaps choir, and then ordered lunch over the phone from Bandra Gym. Not too long after, I received a call telling me it was ready and off I went to pick it up.
Lunch was Sweet Corn and Chicken Soup, East Indian Roast Pork and Methi Malai Mattar--all quite delicious indeed--with naans. I told Rohit to blend the roast pork for Dad who really enjoyed the soup and the peas--which were really creamy and good.
After lunch, Dad who was feeling so much better, had a long chat with me about all sorts of things: the IPL matches (he can't get over how exciting they are), the state of current Indian politics in the run-up to the elections which should start soon and Russel's situation. I left his place at 2.00 pm and returned home and told them I would not see them in the evening as I had other plans.
Back home, I had a short and lovely nap and then decided to continue reading the magazine section of The Sunday Times--I ended up having the sort of Sunday I usually have at home in Southport when I literally while away time in an attempt to enjoy my leisure.
Off to Prithvi Theater for The Vagina Monologues:
At 3.00 pm, I jumped into the shower and got dressed and ready for my evening's appointment. I was meeting my Fulbrighter friend Michelle at the corner of our lane and together we hopped into a bus that took us to the Prithvi Theater where I had a complimentary ticket given to me by the director to see a performance of The Vagina Monologues. I had never ever seen the play before although I know that it has had many resurrections over the years all over the world. Michelle who works on violence against women had already seen it 5 times (in different parts of the States) but told me that it has always been adapted to what is going on in the world and, therefore, is always different.
We had a hard time reaching the Prithvi because we took the wrong bus by mistake--we ought to have taken the 56 instead of the 51. Still, the driver told us where to get off and which bus to connect to--I did exactly what I always do in London: I hop into any bus going in my direction and then the driver guides me and tell me where to get off and which bus/es will take me forward.
The wait for the connecting bus made us a bit frantic and we were about to take a rick when our bus came. Then, it crept and crawled through the Juhu area and past the beach and literally got us to the theater door with only minutes to spare before the curtain went up. I picked up my comp, Michelle bought a ticket for Rs. 500 and we got the last two seats in a Full House! Can you believe it? Well, the Prithvi is small with seating capacity for only 185 and there were literally 4 shows that day! We were at the one that began at 5.00 pm.
Well, what can I say about a play that this group has been putting on for 17 years except that it was stunning? And it was! I mean the script was simply scintillating and the acting was breathtaking--especially by Mona Ambegoankar and Swati Das. The other two cast members were Dolly Thakore and Mahabanoo Kotwal who also directed the play and gave us very humorous instructions on how to turn off our mobile devices before the play began.
It was topical to the hilt with many references to the various atrocities committed against women in India. The monologues were done by Indian women from a variety of backgrounds (Maharashtrian, Sindhi, Gujarati, South Indian) and in each one of them, the first two actors I have mentioned gave us sterling performances as they got the mannerisms and the accent of these communities spot-on.
I had no idea what to expect and I have to say that Eve Ensler's play is brilliant--I can now see why it has had repeated stagings over the years in different parts of the world. I am only sorry I had not seen it earlier. It was truly a memorable experience. Performed without an intermission, combining sadness and humor and evoking anger and disbelief in the audience, the play was minimally produced with just four red high-stools presenting four women who were dressed in delightful costume avatars of black and red--each sporting a gash of bright red lipstick and presented with very effective lighting and sound additions as it marched on. What a grand evening at the theater! It is performances and productions like these that make me realize how much on par Bombay is with the rest of the world when it comes to the arts and culture and how tremendously enriched a life one can have in this city if one has a wide range of interests and the money with which to enjoy them.
Cake and Lassi at the Prithvi Theater Cafe:
Michelle and I were both peckish after the play (which, by the way, Michelle also loved) and we thought we would crown a lovely evening with a bite in the iconic Prithvi Theater Cafe where, in my youth, I had sipped my fair share of Irish coffees. This time we were seduced by a mile-high cake called Chocolate Vertigo (because it was so high, got it?) and quite appropriate a thing for me to eat on a day when Dad's vertigo revisited him! I ordered a mango lassi and Michelle got a big bottle of chilled water. The cafe was simply packed...so we found a quiet corner on a marble seat around a tree and feasted on our very delicious cake (which we shared) as we made plans for tomorrow.
Michelle is at the end of her Fulbright assignment in Inda--she had arrived here in Bombay much before I did--and she leaves to return to the States this Thursday. She has been a great friend and super help to me at a time when I was crumbling from the disaster of my lost files on my computer. She is also a computer geek and I have leaned from her how to save my precious files on Google Drive! So I wanted to take her out for dinner and, thankfully, she is free tomorrow night. I also texted my friends Anil and Ninaz immediately to ask if they could make it--and they could! And so, we will be meeting again tomorrow night at the Bandra Gym for us to say goodbye to Michelle and wish her well as she goes on to take up a summer internship with US Aid in Washington DC and will go on to do her Masters in Public Health at Harvard in the Fall. I will be sorry to see her leave and I will miss her much!
Exploring Food Hall in Santa Cruz:
We took a rick back home and en route stopped off at Food Hall, a swanky new two-level supermarket that has opened on Linking Road in Santa Cruz which I have been meaning to check out for a while. Michelle has been and is very familiar with this place and has bought some exotic goodies, she said, that have been much appreciated by her American friends in the States!
Well, I have to say, it was a revelation. I thought I was in Waitrose, which, as everyone knows, is my favorite supermarket chain in the UK. There is everything you could ever want from fine fresh produce to frozen treats such as salmon fillets and unusual ice-cream. In the mango section alone, there were at least a dozen varieties of mango and I am kicking myself now for not taking a picture. It would have been just wonderful on Twitter! There is a bakery section (the almond croissants looked divine) and a whole section upstairs selling chocolates--hand made individual beauties that made me believe, for a minute, that I was at Harrods in London! There is also a cafe du the upstairs where people were sipping a cuppa and enjoying fresh pastries--again, the pastries were so pretty that I could have been in Angelique in Paris! I was hugely floored! Of course, I don't need to tell you that all this comes at a pretty price--but at least it is available! There were so many different kinds of fresh mushrooms, every condiment you can imagine, massive sections on tea and coffee (alas! Nothing was decaf--so I will have to get those supplies from overseas for the rest of my life, once I move here) but hey, you can't get everything, can you? I felt like a kid in a candy shop and I enjoyed every second except for one obnoxious kid whose parents and grand parents had no control over him and who was making an absolute nuisance of himself!
Michelle bought some more of the fancy teas that her friends have told her to carry back home for them to the US and I bought nothing as I do not need anything for the moment. But it is good to know that this Aladdin's Cave of goodies exists not far from me, if I ever have Trader Joe or Waitrose Withdrawal Symptoms!
We took a rick back home from there and Michelle dropped me off before she got back to her home. I walked one block to my place and then (because the cake and lassi were my dinner), I had a long chat with Llew on the phone and then sat down to watch Bloopers of some of my favorite British TV shows (As Times Goes By, Keeping Up Appearances, Absolutely Fabulous)--all on You Tube and fell asleep really really late as I did not want a really superb Sunday to end!
Until tomorrow!
Bombay
A Superb Sunday Ends with Superb 'Vagina Monologues' at the Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
A Rude Awakening:
It feels good when you have had a good Sunday to crown off a good weekend! Mine was superb!
It feels blissful to awake at a decent hour and I was still fast asleep when an awful din next door woke me up! These flats really do have paper-thin walls, my door is simply too close to my only neighbor's, they leave their door open all day (a custom among many Hindus, I am told) and they have zero consideration for the fact that there is actually someone (Moi!) living next door. Be that as it may, it sounded as if a gaggle of guys was going off on a picnic.
I waited for a few minutes for the din to subside and when it did not, since I was, by then, wide awake and furious, I got out of my bed, opened the door (just as they were leaving with loud goodbyes to those inside the flat) and said to them, "Could you keep the noise down, please? It is 6.30 on a Sunday!" They had the good grace to apologize (probably they had no idea that there was actually someone living next door) and fled. Silence returned but, by then, my sleep was disturbed and I was up and ready to take on another Sunday.
Dad Takes Ill:
I blogged, checked Twitter, downloaded the Sunday Times of London on my iPad, browsed a bit through the magazine section and then got out of bed. I washed, put a chapatti in the microwave to eat something before leaving the house for Mass and spreading it with Sainsbury's Three Fruits Marmalade, I wolfed it down with coffee. Simultaneously, I got dressed and then left for church where I was doing the commentary (Introduction, Prayers of the Faithful and Notices for the Week) at the 9.15 Mass. Just before leaving my studio, I called Dad to ask if he would meet me at the gate of his building, only to hear him sounding dreadful on the phone. I knew immediately that he was unwell. Turns out he had the beginnings of an attack of vertigo (after absolutely ages)--thanks, he thinks, to the continuous hours of IPL cricket matches to which he has been riveted on TV. He popped a couple of pills and decided to take the morning easy while I hurried on for Mass.
All went well although I was a tad nervous as I had never done the commentary at Mass before. After Mass, I picked up a Punjabi samosa for Russel as the vada pau were over and then went over to see Dad. He was lying down quietly and said that he was feeling dizzy although he has no nausea. Thankfully, Rohit had taken care of Russel's breakfast and everything was in control. I read out the notices for the week to Russel but then realized that I had taken a photo of the wrong set from the church notice board--last week's instead of this week's. Anyway, I left Dad's place quickly and told them I would return with Lunch.
Lunch with Dad and Russel:
Back home, I made myself a small bowl of muesli as I realized that I was already hungry with the one chapati I had eaten. I also got down to transcribing one interview (part of my backlog) with Alfred D'Souza of the Stop Gaps choir, and then ordered lunch over the phone from Bandra Gym. Not too long after, I received a call telling me it was ready and off I went to pick it up.
Lunch was Sweet Corn and Chicken Soup, East Indian Roast Pork and Methi Malai Mattar--all quite delicious indeed--with naans. I told Rohit to blend the roast pork for Dad who really enjoyed the soup and the peas--which were really creamy and good.
After lunch, Dad who was feeling so much better, had a long chat with me about all sorts of things: the IPL matches (he can't get over how exciting they are), the state of current Indian politics in the run-up to the elections which should start soon and Russel's situation. I left his place at 2.00 pm and returned home and told them I would not see them in the evening as I had other plans.
Back home, I had a short and lovely nap and then decided to continue reading the magazine section of The Sunday Times--I ended up having the sort of Sunday I usually have at home in Southport when I literally while away time in an attempt to enjoy my leisure.
Off to Prithvi Theater for The Vagina Monologues:
At 3.00 pm, I jumped into the shower and got dressed and ready for my evening's appointment. I was meeting my Fulbrighter friend Michelle at the corner of our lane and together we hopped into a bus that took us to the Prithvi Theater where I had a complimentary ticket given to me by the director to see a performance of The Vagina Monologues. I had never ever seen the play before although I know that it has had many resurrections over the years all over the world. Michelle who works on violence against women had already seen it 5 times (in different parts of the States) but told me that it has always been adapted to what is going on in the world and, therefore, is always different.
We had a hard time reaching the Prithvi because we took the wrong bus by mistake--we ought to have taken the 56 instead of the 51. Still, the driver told us where to get off and which bus to connect to--I did exactly what I always do in London: I hop into any bus going in my direction and then the driver guides me and tell me where to get off and which bus/es will take me forward.
The wait for the connecting bus made us a bit frantic and we were about to take a rick when our bus came. Then, it crept and crawled through the Juhu area and past the beach and literally got us to the theater door with only minutes to spare before the curtain went up. I picked up my comp, Michelle bought a ticket for Rs. 500 and we got the last two seats in a Full House! Can you believe it? Well, the Prithvi is small with seating capacity for only 185 and there were literally 4 shows that day! We were at the one that began at 5.00 pm.
Well, what can I say about a play that this group has been putting on for 17 years except that it was stunning? And it was! I mean the script was simply scintillating and the acting was breathtaking--especially by Mona Ambegoankar and Swati Das. The other two cast members were Dolly Thakore and Mahabanoo Kotwal who also directed the play and gave us very humorous instructions on how to turn off our mobile devices before the play began.
It was topical to the hilt with many references to the various atrocities committed against women in India. The monologues were done by Indian women from a variety of backgrounds (Maharashtrian, Sindhi, Gujarati, South Indian) and in each one of them, the first two actors I have mentioned gave us sterling performances as they got the mannerisms and the accent of these communities spot-on.
I had no idea what to expect and I have to say that Eve Ensler's play is brilliant--I can now see why it has had repeated stagings over the years in different parts of the world. I am only sorry I had not seen it earlier. It was truly a memorable experience. Performed without an intermission, combining sadness and humor and evoking anger and disbelief in the audience, the play was minimally produced with just four red high-stools presenting four women who were dressed in delightful costume avatars of black and red--each sporting a gash of bright red lipstick and presented with very effective lighting and sound additions as it marched on. What a grand evening at the theater! It is performances and productions like these that make me realize how much on par Bombay is with the rest of the world when it comes to the arts and culture and how tremendously enriched a life one can have in this city if one has a wide range of interests and the money with which to enjoy them.
Cake and Lassi at the Prithvi Theater Cafe:
Michelle and I were both peckish after the play (which, by the way, Michelle also loved) and we thought we would crown a lovely evening with a bite in the iconic Prithvi Theater Cafe where, in my youth, I had sipped my fair share of Irish coffees. This time we were seduced by a mile-high cake called Chocolate Vertigo (because it was so high, got it?) and quite appropriate a thing for me to eat on a day when Dad's vertigo revisited him! I ordered a mango lassi and Michelle got a big bottle of chilled water. The cafe was simply packed...so we found a quiet corner on a marble seat around a tree and feasted on our very delicious cake (which we shared) as we made plans for tomorrow.
Michelle is at the end of her Fulbright assignment in Inda--she had arrived here in Bombay much before I did--and she leaves to return to the States this Thursday. She has been a great friend and super help to me at a time when I was crumbling from the disaster of my lost files on my computer. She is also a computer geek and I have leaned from her how to save my precious files on Google Drive! So I wanted to take her out for dinner and, thankfully, she is free tomorrow night. I also texted my friends Anil and Ninaz immediately to ask if they could make it--and they could! And so, we will be meeting again tomorrow night at the Bandra Gym for us to say goodbye to Michelle and wish her well as she goes on to take up a summer internship with US Aid in Washington DC and will go on to do her Masters in Public Health at Harvard in the Fall. I will be sorry to see her leave and I will miss her much!
Exploring Food Hall in Santa Cruz:
We took a rick back home and en route stopped off at Food Hall, a swanky new two-level supermarket that has opened on Linking Road in Santa Cruz which I have been meaning to check out for a while. Michelle has been and is very familiar with this place and has bought some exotic goodies, she said, that have been much appreciated by her American friends in the States!
Well, I have to say, it was a revelation. I thought I was in Waitrose, which, as everyone knows, is my favorite supermarket chain in the UK. There is everything you could ever want from fine fresh produce to frozen treats such as salmon fillets and unusual ice-cream. In the mango section alone, there were at least a dozen varieties of mango and I am kicking myself now for not taking a picture. It would have been just wonderful on Twitter! There is a bakery section (the almond croissants looked divine) and a whole section upstairs selling chocolates--hand made individual beauties that made me believe, for a minute, that I was at Harrods in London! There is also a cafe du the upstairs where people were sipping a cuppa and enjoying fresh pastries--again, the pastries were so pretty that I could have been in Angelique in Paris! I was hugely floored! Of course, I don't need to tell you that all this comes at a pretty price--but at least it is available! There were so many different kinds of fresh mushrooms, every condiment you can imagine, massive sections on tea and coffee (alas! Nothing was decaf--so I will have to get those supplies from overseas for the rest of my life, once I move here) but hey, you can't get everything, can you? I felt like a kid in a candy shop and I enjoyed every second except for one obnoxious kid whose parents and grand parents had no control over him and who was making an absolute nuisance of himself!
Michelle bought some more of the fancy teas that her friends have told her to carry back home for them to the US and I bought nothing as I do not need anything for the moment. But it is good to know that this Aladdin's Cave of goodies exists not far from me, if I ever have Trader Joe or Waitrose Withdrawal Symptoms!
We took a rick back home from there and Michelle dropped me off before she got back to her home. I walked one block to my place and then (because the cake and lassi were my dinner), I had a long chat with Llew on the phone and then sat down to watch Bloopers of some of my favorite British TV shows (As Times Goes By, Keeping Up Appearances, Absolutely Fabulous)--all on You Tube and fell asleep really really late as I did not want a really superb Sunday to end!
Until tomorrow!
Thursday, March 28, 2019
A Physiotherapy Session for Russel and an Interview at Prithvi Theater
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Bombay
A Physiotherapy Session for Russel and an Interview at Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
Time is fleeting and I am trying hard to catch up with my past Fulbright interviews which were wiped out on my computer. I have to say that I am not doing too badly and slowly, but steadily, they are being re-input.
So brekkie was muesli with coffee before I whipped off to Dad's for Russel's physio session with Valerian. As it turned out both he and Dad had a lousy night--Dad's implants are causing Russel anxiety and keeping him up at night and when he is up, so is Dad. Suffice it to say that Dad looked dreadful when I saw him and Russel was fast asleep at 9.00 am when I got there! When he awoke, he was insistent that we should cancel our appointment, but Dad managed to convince him to co-operate. It was clearly not going to be the best of sessions, that was for sure!
Valerian did come around and as Russel all but refused to even walk to the living room, exercises were confined to his bed. Dad was very disappointed but Russel was simply not in the mood or the right frame of mind and kept telling me what a bad night he'd had. All we could do was make the best of a bad show and with Valerian completing exercises and reiterating that we should see another orthopedist about the instability in Russel's left leg that will always prevent him from walking independently and keep him prone to falls and fractures, he left. Dad was pretty despondent by the prognosis and told me as much in the evening when he said he is praying very hard that we will be inspired to go to the right doctors who will, in turn, be inspired to heal Russel.
Running Errands:
When Valerian left, I did too. I went straight to my photocopy man Jay to get the SBI form printed out for change of my online passwords. The loss of my Documents has hit me hardest in the loss of all my passwords. I have no idea now how I will get into my subscriptions of The New York Times, The Times of London, Waitrose in London, the Bobst Library at NYU or even my Fulbright shells! It is all a mess and I am really regretting that I had never emailed that file to myself! I guess I will cross each bridge as I come to it--for the moment, I have also lost my Twitter password and have no idea what to do to reset that! However, the banking one is most urgent as I need to stay abreast of my balance in my Indian bank account--hence the need to address that issue first.
Jay did the job in minutes and with the forms in duplicate, I walked to the SBI--only to find a huge notice on their front gate to say that all employees have been relegated to election duty training and so the bank would remain closed! Can you even believe it???!!! Apart from the fact that it causes so much inconvenience to patrons, just think of the loss to their business at a time when India's economy is in the doldrums and needs every shot in the arm it can get to boost it! I was aghast! However, with really nothing I could do in the matter, I returned home and got down to the task of transcribing interviews.
I managed to transcribe two more--with Mark Nunes and Francis Mendes of the Symphony Orchestra of India--before it was time for me to have my lunch: chicken mince with potato, dal and okra--and then to shower and get dressed for my next appointment. This involved an interview at the Prithvi Theater in Juhu and since it is quite far away, I gave myself more than an hour to get a bus (which goes right up to the spot from very close to my home) to get there.
But as fate would have it, the bus did not come for 20 minutes and since I did not want to be late, I hailed a passing rick and sailed off down Carter Road to Juhu Beach and was at the venue on time. So much for my consciousness to be on time. I was settled down in a spot where mosquitoes were eating me alive and told that Kunal Kapoor, whom I was scheduled to meet, had been delayed in a previous meeting and would be with me in 15 minutes. They were excruciating minutes as the mosquitoes made mincemeat of me! And his 15 minutes turned into a half hour. Good Job I had carried along my former student Priti's novel to read: Out With Lanterns--which, by the way, I am enjoying immensely. It is beautifully written and quite quite funny indeed.
An Interview with Kunal Kapoor:
Apart from finding out about the Prithvi Theater itself, which Kunal runs as a Trustee of the establishment, I was keen to find out about his pedigree in terms of English-language theater. He is the grandson of two famed theatrical families--on his paternal side, his grandfather is Prithviraj Kapoor, founder of the Prithvi Raj Studios and on his maternal side, his grandparents are Geoffrey and Laura Kendal who founded the traveling theater troupe in India that was called Shakespeareana. As a child, I'd had the privilege of seeing them perform in my school (when I was in Std VII) and it was definitely my first introduction to Shakespeare. I can clearly recall seeing Laura play Lady Macbeth in the famous "Out Damned Spot" monologue and Geoffrey playing Othello in the scene before he strangles poor Desdemona. It is only now in retrospect that I realize how lucky I was to have been witness to history for the Kendals brought The Bard to the attention of countless school children in India. As Kunal put it, it is unlikely that anyone in India over the age of 55 who went to an English medium school did not have the pleasure of watching his grandparents in action. Of course, they were joined in this endeavor by their daughters, Jennifer, who met her future husband Shashi Kapoor when he joined the troupe, and Felicity who, after her parents folded up their business, went to London and pursued a career in acting there. She aced it quite early in the game with Good Neighbors (a show I love--with Penelope Keith, Richard Briers and Paul Edington--all of whom became small-screen stars in the UK). In more recent years, I have seen Felicity on the London stage at the Trafalgar Studios playing opposite Nicholas Le Prevost in The Last Cigarette. And, of course, she became a household name in the US with Rosemary and Thyme, the TV show, in which she plays the role of a amateur gardening detective, opposite Pam Ferris.
My interview with Kunal went along smoothly. He was kind and thoughtful enough to call for a mosquito coil when he found how much I was fidgeting under the onslaught of those pesky mosquitoes. He offered me refreshment but I took nothing as I'd just had lunch and was counting calories. He spoke with ease about his memories of the Kendals and his contribution to Prithvi Theater and what their aims and objectives continue to be as the establishment enters its 40th year. It was a time for back-patting but also for reaching forward. Kunal then put me on to two books that were upstairs in the offices of Prithvi Theater--the autobiography of Geoffrey Kendal and a commemorative book called The Prithviwallahs that was brought out on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the theater.
Expressing my gratitude to Kunal, I made my way up into the bowels of the theater, through semi-darkness, past the wings and the Green Rooms and arrived at the office where I then spent the next hour browsing through the books. I have added them to my bibliography and hope to find them at the library of the NCPA as Kunal could not part with them--and very sensibly too! If I do not get them at the NCPA library, I shall see if my South Asian Studies section librarian Aruna Maguier at the Bobst Library at NYU can get them for me when I go back home. Finally, there is always Amazon through which I can purchase the books using my faculty development funds--but, of course, this will have to be after I get back home.
I left the Prithvi Theater after taking pictures of some of the posters of its English plays. I also surveyed the premises--the book store and the cafe of which Kunal had spoken--and then I was on my way. I took a rickshaw and got home feeling ready for a hot pot of lemony tea and a slice of cake.
At this point, a nap felt very temping and I curled up for one. About a half hour later, I left straight for church for the novena which began at 6.45 followed by Mass at 7.00.
Dad and I walked back home to his gate together where I took my leave and went home. At my door, my next-door neighbor--bless his heart--asked me if I was up for a vegetable sandwich! I told him I would be delighted. He told me they were making them at home. About fifteen minutes later, he rang my doorbell and presented me with a freshly toasted sandwich filled with cucumber, tomato, beetroot and potato--the typical Bombay vegetable street sandwich that is absolutely delicious with a lick of tomato ketchup. I enjoyed it while watching the second part of Hinterland. Then, a quick chat with Llew who is hard at work in our Southport home installing central air-conditioning ducts, and I found myself feeling really sleepy. I decided not to fight it. But 9.30 pm, I switched the light off, ignoring the determination I had felt to input one more interview before calling it a day. You simply have to succumb to fatigue, sometimes!
Until tomorrow...
Bombay
A Physiotherapy Session for Russel and an Interview at Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
Time is fleeting and I am trying hard to catch up with my past Fulbright interviews which were wiped out on my computer. I have to say that I am not doing too badly and slowly, but steadily, they are being re-input.
So brekkie was muesli with coffee before I whipped off to Dad's for Russel's physio session with Valerian. As it turned out both he and Dad had a lousy night--Dad's implants are causing Russel anxiety and keeping him up at night and when he is up, so is Dad. Suffice it to say that Dad looked dreadful when I saw him and Russel was fast asleep at 9.00 am when I got there! When he awoke, he was insistent that we should cancel our appointment, but Dad managed to convince him to co-operate. It was clearly not going to be the best of sessions, that was for sure!
Valerian did come around and as Russel all but refused to even walk to the living room, exercises were confined to his bed. Dad was very disappointed but Russel was simply not in the mood or the right frame of mind and kept telling me what a bad night he'd had. All we could do was make the best of a bad show and with Valerian completing exercises and reiterating that we should see another orthopedist about the instability in Russel's left leg that will always prevent him from walking independently and keep him prone to falls and fractures, he left. Dad was pretty despondent by the prognosis and told me as much in the evening when he said he is praying very hard that we will be inspired to go to the right doctors who will, in turn, be inspired to heal Russel.
Running Errands:
When Valerian left, I did too. I went straight to my photocopy man Jay to get the SBI form printed out for change of my online passwords. The loss of my Documents has hit me hardest in the loss of all my passwords. I have no idea now how I will get into my subscriptions of The New York Times, The Times of London, Waitrose in London, the Bobst Library at NYU or even my Fulbright shells! It is all a mess and I am really regretting that I had never emailed that file to myself! I guess I will cross each bridge as I come to it--for the moment, I have also lost my Twitter password and have no idea what to do to reset that! However, the banking one is most urgent as I need to stay abreast of my balance in my Indian bank account--hence the need to address that issue first.
Jay did the job in minutes and with the forms in duplicate, I walked to the SBI--only to find a huge notice on their front gate to say that all employees have been relegated to election duty training and so the bank would remain closed! Can you even believe it???!!! Apart from the fact that it causes so much inconvenience to patrons, just think of the loss to their business at a time when India's economy is in the doldrums and needs every shot in the arm it can get to boost it! I was aghast! However, with really nothing I could do in the matter, I returned home and got down to the task of transcribing interviews.
I managed to transcribe two more--with Mark Nunes and Francis Mendes of the Symphony Orchestra of India--before it was time for me to have my lunch: chicken mince with potato, dal and okra--and then to shower and get dressed for my next appointment. This involved an interview at the Prithvi Theater in Juhu and since it is quite far away, I gave myself more than an hour to get a bus (which goes right up to the spot from very close to my home) to get there.
But as fate would have it, the bus did not come for 20 minutes and since I did not want to be late, I hailed a passing rick and sailed off down Carter Road to Juhu Beach and was at the venue on time. So much for my consciousness to be on time. I was settled down in a spot where mosquitoes were eating me alive and told that Kunal Kapoor, whom I was scheduled to meet, had been delayed in a previous meeting and would be with me in 15 minutes. They were excruciating minutes as the mosquitoes made mincemeat of me! And his 15 minutes turned into a half hour. Good Job I had carried along my former student Priti's novel to read: Out With Lanterns--which, by the way, I am enjoying immensely. It is beautifully written and quite quite funny indeed.
An Interview with Kunal Kapoor:
Apart from finding out about the Prithvi Theater itself, which Kunal runs as a Trustee of the establishment, I was keen to find out about his pedigree in terms of English-language theater. He is the grandson of two famed theatrical families--on his paternal side, his grandfather is Prithviraj Kapoor, founder of the Prithvi Raj Studios and on his maternal side, his grandparents are Geoffrey and Laura Kendal who founded the traveling theater troupe in India that was called Shakespeareana. As a child, I'd had the privilege of seeing them perform in my school (when I was in Std VII) and it was definitely my first introduction to Shakespeare. I can clearly recall seeing Laura play Lady Macbeth in the famous "Out Damned Spot" monologue and Geoffrey playing Othello in the scene before he strangles poor Desdemona. It is only now in retrospect that I realize how lucky I was to have been witness to history for the Kendals brought The Bard to the attention of countless school children in India. As Kunal put it, it is unlikely that anyone in India over the age of 55 who went to an English medium school did not have the pleasure of watching his grandparents in action. Of course, they were joined in this endeavor by their daughters, Jennifer, who met her future husband Shashi Kapoor when he joined the troupe, and Felicity who, after her parents folded up their business, went to London and pursued a career in acting there. She aced it quite early in the game with Good Neighbors (a show I love--with Penelope Keith, Richard Briers and Paul Edington--all of whom became small-screen stars in the UK). In more recent years, I have seen Felicity on the London stage at the Trafalgar Studios playing opposite Nicholas Le Prevost in The Last Cigarette. And, of course, she became a household name in the US with Rosemary and Thyme, the TV show, in which she plays the role of a amateur gardening detective, opposite Pam Ferris.
My interview with Kunal went along smoothly. He was kind and thoughtful enough to call for a mosquito coil when he found how much I was fidgeting under the onslaught of those pesky mosquitoes. He offered me refreshment but I took nothing as I'd just had lunch and was counting calories. He spoke with ease about his memories of the Kendals and his contribution to Prithvi Theater and what their aims and objectives continue to be as the establishment enters its 40th year. It was a time for back-patting but also for reaching forward. Kunal then put me on to two books that were upstairs in the offices of Prithvi Theater--the autobiography of Geoffrey Kendal and a commemorative book called The Prithviwallahs that was brought out on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the theater.
Expressing my gratitude to Kunal, I made my way up into the bowels of the theater, through semi-darkness, past the wings and the Green Rooms and arrived at the office where I then spent the next hour browsing through the books. I have added them to my bibliography and hope to find them at the library of the NCPA as Kunal could not part with them--and very sensibly too! If I do not get them at the NCPA library, I shall see if my South Asian Studies section librarian Aruna Maguier at the Bobst Library at NYU can get them for me when I go back home. Finally, there is always Amazon through which I can purchase the books using my faculty development funds--but, of course, this will have to be after I get back home.
I left the Prithvi Theater after taking pictures of some of the posters of its English plays. I also surveyed the premises--the book store and the cafe of which Kunal had spoken--and then I was on my way. I took a rickshaw and got home feeling ready for a hot pot of lemony tea and a slice of cake.
At this point, a nap felt very temping and I curled up for one. About a half hour later, I left straight for church for the novena which began at 6.45 followed by Mass at 7.00.
Dad and I walked back home to his gate together where I took my leave and went home. At my door, my next-door neighbor--bless his heart--asked me if I was up for a vegetable sandwich! I told him I would be delighted. He told me they were making them at home. About fifteen minutes later, he rang my doorbell and presented me with a freshly toasted sandwich filled with cucumber, tomato, beetroot and potato--the typical Bombay vegetable street sandwich that is absolutely delicious with a lick of tomato ketchup. I enjoyed it while watching the second part of Hinterland. Then, a quick chat with Llew who is hard at work in our Southport home installing central air-conditioning ducts, and I found myself feeling really sleepy. I decided not to fight it. But 9.30 pm, I switched the light off, ignoring the determination I had felt to input one more interview before calling it a day. You simply have to succumb to fatigue, sometimes!
Until tomorrow...
Saturday, March 16, 2019
Russel Has Physiotherapy and Bombay Jazz at the Prithvi Theater
Saturday, March 16, 2019
Bombay
Russel Has Physiotherapy and Bombay Jazz at the Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
So, as if all the aspects of my life that I am juggling are not adequate, weight-loss has been added to the list! I am quite arduously avoiding carbs now and not consuming them out of duty—for example, Valerie’s tiffin offerings although delicious and devoid of carbs (as she has been told not to send me rice or chapattis) always includes potatoes! She includes them liberally in her curries and her vegetable dishes! I am now leaving them out when I serve myself even if I have to quell guilt pangs at the wastage.
What’s also nice is that I am waking up later these days—which means that I am getting more sleep. Today, up at 6.30 am, I finished blogging (it was a short post) and rustled up my breakfast of muesli and coffee. Then, without wasting too much time, I left for Dad’s to be present when Russel had his physiotherapy session with Valerian. He tried hard to get Russel to tackle stairs, but Russel simply refuses. He is now walking with our assistance from one room to the next—sans the walker—but he is a very unhappy camper and does not want to go ahead and do the exercises. Dad and I have now decided to make a visit once again to the specialist orthopedist who had once ruled out a knee replacement to see if, in light of the developments of the last two years, he would consider doing knee replacement surgery for Russel. I continue to storm heaven and ask everyone to join me in doing so.
After the surgery, I sat with Dad and looked at two of his bills that needed paying. I told him I would pay them online to eliminate his having to go personally. I managed to pay the electricity bill quite easily but had real trouble with the telephone one. It will mean that I have to go personally to Bandra Post Office to do so at the same time that I need to go Bandra Police Station to get a form that will help us register Dad’s new Man Friday. I will probably do this on Tuesday as Dad’s dental surgery is slotted for Monday.
It was almost lunch time by the time I finished—so I had lunch: dal, meatball curry and a few vegetables. My weight is still falling on this low carb diet—the only carbs I have are at breakfast (either one broon or muesli which contains oats and dried fruit which are the two sugar elements). In the afternoon, I continued to make calls to try to get interviews going forward (and am not succeeding much at all). Without my laptop, there is only so much I can do on my small Ipad even with its mini keyboard. I managed to draft lesson plans for two Writing courses and then I had a pot of tea with a few nuts. I carried the nuts with me as I got dressed and left for my evening’s appointment.
Seeing Bombay Jazz at the Prithvi Theater:
My evening’s appointment was set. Actor Denzil Smith had left a ticket for me to see the play in which he has the lead role. It was set for 6.00pm at the Prithvi and since Shahnaz is too tied up these days with year-end closing of accounts that she is now handling ever since her husband passed away, seven months ago, I went alone. I decided that I would take the bus there and I found that the 56 goes most conveniently from right outside my building on Perry Cross Road to the theater. The bus came in exactly two minutes and inside I hopped for a nice ride that saw me sailing towards Juhu and surveying the passing scene outside my window.
It is amazing how much the suburbs have developed since I was a teenager who used to go with her gal pals to the beach to hang out, eat bhel puri and kulfi on the sands, get a camel ride, poke around the shops and get home. Today, the area is amidst the most affluent in the city and designer boutiques line the water front, upscale eateries have sprouted like mushrooms and the rich and famous hang out—they are a bit like London’s Sloan Rangers of the 1960s and 70s? As for the beach, My God! It was simply crawling with people—no one in the water (that is not the Indian way of enjoying a beach) but hordes were on the sands—eating the air, as they say colloquially in Hindi. How fondly I remember the good old days when Dad, Mum and I would take Chriselle to the beach on Saturday mornings and she would frolic on the sand which she would have entirely to her self. Those were the days!
Once I hopped off the bus, I found Janki Kutir very easily—it is the compound in which Prithvi Theater was constructed 40 years ago. It was the brainchild of English actor Jennifer Kendall Kapoor who married the Indian actor Shashi Kapoor. Both of them being from illustrious thespian families, it was not surprising that they decided to build a theater on family-owned property and name it for Prithvi Raj Kapoor, Shashi’s father. Today, the third generation, Jennifer and Shashi’s children, Kunal and Sanjana, run the show.
I have been going to the Prithvi ever since it opened, 40 years ago—so my own education in theatrical arts is closely tied up with this venue. It was the hippest suburban place to be seen at, 40 years ago, when its cafe made history as the first place in Bombay to serve real Irish coffee—with real Irish whisky nestling at the bottom and a thick crown of frothy cream at the top. I find that the scene has not changed much. Suburban hipsters still hang out at the cafe even if they are not headed inside the theater—which is tiny and built in amphitheatrical style.
I met Blossom Coutinho outside (her husband Etienne directed the play) and Merlin De Souza too (she is the Music Director). Some stalwarts of the Bombay Jazz world happened to be present such as Louis Banks who pioneered Jazz beats in Bombay through his genius on the keyboards. I picked up my ticket from the Box office, then took my place in a queue that had formed outside as there is free seating.
Bombay Jazz:
The Play was inspired by a book called Taj Mahal Fox Trot written by Naresh Fernandes whom I interviewed last week. It was written by Ramu Ramanathan, directed by Etienne Coutinho and stars just two actors: Denzil Smith who played an aged jazz artist looking back on his life while on his death bed and Rhys Sebastian D’Souza, Merlin’s son, a saxophonist, who comes to meet the legend as a fledgling musician seeking a mentor. The play was a lovely combination of audio-visual techniques—there were a number of characters that appeared on a black and white screen that projected their reminiscences of the artist (who remained unnamed) as Rhys blossoms from a new artist to an accomplished one under the guidance of this man who recalls his faded glory. It was minimalist in every sense—just two actors, just a barely discernible set that involved a single easy chair and just one prop—Rhys’ saxophone. The music in the background and played by Rhys on stage was splendid. I particularly loved the old Bollywood classic tunes of the 1950s—Oh Gori, Gori, Bambai Meri Jaan and others which I know so well from my Bombay childhood. What I am finding fascinating and ironic, given my Bombay Catholic childhood and the fact that I know Bombay Catholic culture, is that those very same Bombay Catholics who, through the decades, turned their noses up at Bollywood filmi music and gaanaas and only patronized Western music, did not know (and neither did I) that the people producing that music were Bombay Catholics—Goans and Anglo-Indians who knew staff notation and were the only ones who could score the compositions of the jazz greats of this city and read them! For these Catholic jazz greats were the ones composing these glorious Bollywood classic songs of the past—not music directors such as Laxmikant-Pyarelal, Shankar-Jaikishen or the Burmas (R.D and S.D.) or Manna Dey who got all the credit! I also loved the jazz classics such as Dave Brubeck’s Take Five that Rhys played on stage. I thought the script was good (could have been better), but the condensation of Naresh’s research into this format could not have been more creatively done.
Etienne was sitting right behind me, Louis Banks was sitting right beside me! It was a very special seat indeed and I felt deeply honored to be in the presence of such genius. I did not have the chance to go backstage to congratulate Denzil (and now I wish I had done), but I will call him tomorrow to tell him how good he was.
I was so glad I went to the play and got a chance to see what contemporary writers and actors are doing in Bombay inasmuch as I am talking to the old timers and to the folks who knew those who have passed away already. I am really looking forward now to chatting with people like Sanjana and Kunal Kapoor who run Prithvi, to Shahnaz Patel, Rahul Da Cunha and Rajit Kanpur who comprise Rage and to Naseeruddin and Ratna Shah who founded Motley. This will bring my research up to the current times and with these interviews and my background reading, I feel as if I am in a good position to tackle the writing of a monograph on Western Performing Arts in Bombay.
I hailed a passing rickshaw and was home for exactly Rs. 100! Dinner was a chicken sandwich and the last of my dal. I watched a movie Isn’t It Romantic? On Netflix which was absolute drivel—please do not waste your time. I read a little bit of my novel by Helen Simonson before I felt sleepy and went to bed.
Until tomorrow...
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Another Hardworking Day--With a Play (A Farming Story) at Prithvi Theater
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Bombay
Another Hardworking Day--With A Farming Story at Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
It seems I am learning quickly about work-life balance! I just make my life part of my work! As happened today, for instance...
So I woke up again at 5.00 am--hating these body clock fluctuations. I think I am simply better off waking each day, like clockwork, at 4.30 am and then taking a mid-morning nap! Or maybe not...
Working, working, working:
Had an article that NYU sent me to proof-read. They are uploading the conference presentation I made in Florence, Italy, in the summer, on to our NYU Faculty website. They wanted me to go over it to make sure all editorial tweaking was in order. Re-reading a 22 page paper took a long while, but I felt fulfilled when it was done--plus I will have the satisfaction of seeing it published! Great!
Also looked at some paperwork that Chriselle sent me to peruse. Only when those two tasks were completed, did I get down to typing up my blog post. And then it was 7.00 am and I was jumping out of bed to wash, down a cup of java and dress for the gym. One noisy hour later (I hate how they blast their music when I am trying to read The Times on my iPad on the elliptical machine!), I got home. Found out when I stepped into the shower that my geyser was on the blink (yes, again) and no hot water emanated from it. I dressed again, called my electrician Clement and sat down to eat my muesli breakfast because I was near starvation by that point. I watched Monty Python's Flying Circus between mouthfuls--such a ludicrous show...and yet you cannot help guffawing.
Work today was devoted to designing the syllabus for St. Xavier's College proposed Post-graduate (MA) course in English. I have been assigned three courses by the Principal of the College as part of my voluntary Fulbright professional offering. I was working on a course on Multi-Ethnic Immigrant American Literature and I was amazed at how much time it took for me to source both primary and secondary (critical) texts to flesh out the course. Before I knew it, my stomach was urgently beckoning for me to get some lunch.
So stop, I did...for chicken curry, cutlets and white pumpkin. A huge guava (ripe and sweet) made a great dessert as I watched Come Dine With Me.
Then it was back to the grindstone for me as I finally finished up one course and started on the second one--this one on Diasporic Literature from the Indian Sub-continent. This took just as much time, but I also wanted to squeeze in my 20 minute nap. Managed just 10 precious minutes when my doorbell rang and Clement walked in to attend to my geyser. There wasn't anything much wrong with it, he told me, except fluctuating water flow (thanks to a defect n the building's pumping system about which I cannot do much). He advised me not to shower if water flow from my shower head is skinny. I should wait until the pressure is halfway decent, he says. OK, problem solved.
Clement left and I returned to work for just another hour. Then I showered, and got dressed for my next appointment.
Off to see A Farming Story:
So here's what I mean by making my leisure part of my work. Since I am examining Western Performing Arts (my passion, my joy) in Bombay, I hooked up with a chap called Viraf Pocha, a Parsi Chartered Accountant who, for fun, has done stage management including lighting design and execution for a gazillion English plays in Bombay over about 40 years. He has also become the voluntary archivist of Theatre Group's oeuvre and has created a website upon which scholars, such as myself, can drool! I was advised to talk to him by three of the people I have already interviewed--Roger Periera, Farokh Mehta and Dolly Thakore.
So, I called him and discovered that he is right in the middle of doing the lighting for a play called A Farming Story that won the Sultan Padamsee Playwriting Competition organized by Theatre Group in Bombay last year. Apparently, the prize is that the play is produced and staged--so this year, I would be seeing last year's winner. Viraf told me that he would give me two complimentary tickets and Shahnaz was free to go with me. Before the show began at 6.00 pm, I would spend an hour interviewing him. That was the plan...
Accordingly, I got into a rick at 4. 15 pm--Shahnaz was supposed to meet me at the theater at 5.45 as she had some work in downtown Bombay. I have not been to the Prithvi Theater at Juhu in 30 years! Once upon a time, it was a regular haunt and, during my youthful days, I have done a fair share of hanging around its cafe sipping Irish Coffee and trying to look as hip as the beautiful people who thronged its leafy, canopied environs. Today, not much has changed...the caff is still there filled with hip young people with more money and time on their hands than they know what to do with them.
The rickshaw driver took me to a place called PMV (Cinema) Theater and insisted it was Prithvi Theater! I told him I was not senile yet and although it was 30 years since I had been there, I really did know the difference between a multi-plex cinema theater and a cultural center--because that, basically, is what the Prithvi has evolved into. A passer-by confirmed that it was not Prithvi that the driver had dropped me at...and suggested I get off, take another rickshaw with a driver who would know where the place was. Good thinking! I paid the fare, jumped off, then got into another rickshaw and within five minutes, I was there.
I met Viraf in the caff. Sadly, the years have taken their toll on me in more ways than one--I cannot sip those legendary Irish coffees anymore--not unless I want to risk serious insomnia! Hence, I had a mango lassi while he sipped a lemon iced tea. We got talking and I found him to be a great fun guy--full of amusing anecdotes of his growing years when he came under the direct influence of theatrical giants such as Adi Marzban who was his uncle! He was able to fill the gaps in my time line--although he was very vague about everything and told me he would look up a lot of data. While anecdotes make for amusing reading, at the end of the day, I do need factual data to substantiate my research!
It was 6.00 pm before we knew it and I had to get inside the theater. Shahnaz was stuck in traffic and would be arriving five minutes too late. Once the doors close, no one is allowed in until intermission. Too too bad!
It turned out that A Farming Story was written by someone called Vineet Bhalla, a Bombay chap who is now based in Toronto, Canada. He was present in the theater--which was very poorly filled. I counted merely 20 people in a fabulous amphitheater of an auditorium that has the capacity to seat 200. And for very good reason. It is a strange sort of play--a most unusual setting. It does not carry the setting or the characters that appeal to me. These were human beings on an 'estate' who are evolving into animals--they call themselves 'hummals'. For the moment, they have sprouted pointed cat-like ears while some have snouts and others have whiskers! They are oppressed by someone called Miss Brand who wears fascinators and sips bucket-sized drinks through a straw. She is the only human in the plot--the last of the humans, apparently, as the race has become near-extinct.
The hummals are invaded by a monkey family--who sport names such as Dante and Fenwick! One of the hummals (Samantha) falls in love with Dante, much to the consternation of the other hummals. She campaigns to save the monkey family while the rest of her race are demanding their destruction. Miss Brand steps in to take sides with the hummals. At the end of the play, the good guys die and Miss brand is victorious--a triumph of evil over good (which turns the tables on traditional drama). As I am not a fan of such fantasy settings (which is why I do not like Star Wars or Tolkien's Middle Earth and its weird characters), I had great difficulty connecting with the plot--although I did understand its message and its relevance in our day and age.
Shahnaz who reconnected with me during the interval (when, to kill time, she had stuffed her face with potato wedges and coffee!) told me that she quite liked the play although she thought it plagiarized the ideas of Orwell's Animal Farm a little too much. I disagreed that it was plagiarization. I told her that I thought Animal Farm might have inspired this play and that there are many literary works that inspire other ones. We had a nice discussion in the rickshaw on the way back together with a friend that Shahnaz bumped into called Rita Shanbagh. Her husband is Sunil Shanbagh, a well-known theater personality in Bombay. His revival of the play Deewar was debuted at the Prithvi Festival, a week ago.
Rita hopped off on Linking Road in Santa Cruz, Shahnaz hoped off at Linking Road in Bandra (she had a birthday party to attend at Global Fusion--lucky her!) and I directed the driver to my studio.
Back home, I called Dad to make sure all was well and then sat down to eat my dinner--repeat of my lunch plate--while watching Nigella's Christmas Special (which I chanced to come upon through You Tube). It might seem inappropriate at this time of year to be thinking about Christmas but the lights are already switched on in Oxford and Regent Streets in London and there are massive decorations at Covent Garden. Here in Bombay, we are recovering from the aftermath of Diwali, but I do believe we shall be swinging into the Christmas spirit soon. The Diwali lights will barely dim before the Christmas ones are switched on.
It had been a very good day and I do intend to finish up the other course syllabus tomorrow before I leave my studio to take Dad to his six-monthly appointment with his ophthalmologist. Hopefully, all will continue to be well.
Until tomorrow...
Bombay
Another Hardworking Day--With A Farming Story at Prithvi Theater
Namaste from Bombay!
It seems I am learning quickly about work-life balance! I just make my life part of my work! As happened today, for instance...
So I woke up again at 5.00 am--hating these body clock fluctuations. I think I am simply better off waking each day, like clockwork, at 4.30 am and then taking a mid-morning nap! Or maybe not...
Working, working, working:
Had an article that NYU sent me to proof-read. They are uploading the conference presentation I made in Florence, Italy, in the summer, on to our NYU Faculty website. They wanted me to go over it to make sure all editorial tweaking was in order. Re-reading a 22 page paper took a long while, but I felt fulfilled when it was done--plus I will have the satisfaction of seeing it published! Great!
Also looked at some paperwork that Chriselle sent me to peruse. Only when those two tasks were completed, did I get down to typing up my blog post. And then it was 7.00 am and I was jumping out of bed to wash, down a cup of java and dress for the gym. One noisy hour later (I hate how they blast their music when I am trying to read The Times on my iPad on the elliptical machine!), I got home. Found out when I stepped into the shower that my geyser was on the blink (yes, again) and no hot water emanated from it. I dressed again, called my electrician Clement and sat down to eat my muesli breakfast because I was near starvation by that point. I watched Monty Python's Flying Circus between mouthfuls--such a ludicrous show...and yet you cannot help guffawing.
Work today was devoted to designing the syllabus for St. Xavier's College proposed Post-graduate (MA) course in English. I have been assigned three courses by the Principal of the College as part of my voluntary Fulbright professional offering. I was working on a course on Multi-Ethnic Immigrant American Literature and I was amazed at how much time it took for me to source both primary and secondary (critical) texts to flesh out the course. Before I knew it, my stomach was urgently beckoning for me to get some lunch.
So stop, I did...for chicken curry, cutlets and white pumpkin. A huge guava (ripe and sweet) made a great dessert as I watched Come Dine With Me.
Then it was back to the grindstone for me as I finally finished up one course and started on the second one--this one on Diasporic Literature from the Indian Sub-continent. This took just as much time, but I also wanted to squeeze in my 20 minute nap. Managed just 10 precious minutes when my doorbell rang and Clement walked in to attend to my geyser. There wasn't anything much wrong with it, he told me, except fluctuating water flow (thanks to a defect n the building's pumping system about which I cannot do much). He advised me not to shower if water flow from my shower head is skinny. I should wait until the pressure is halfway decent, he says. OK, problem solved.
Clement left and I returned to work for just another hour. Then I showered, and got dressed for my next appointment.
Off to see A Farming Story:
So here's what I mean by making my leisure part of my work. Since I am examining Western Performing Arts (my passion, my joy) in Bombay, I hooked up with a chap called Viraf Pocha, a Parsi Chartered Accountant who, for fun, has done stage management including lighting design and execution for a gazillion English plays in Bombay over about 40 years. He has also become the voluntary archivist of Theatre Group's oeuvre and has created a website upon which scholars, such as myself, can drool! I was advised to talk to him by three of the people I have already interviewed--Roger Periera, Farokh Mehta and Dolly Thakore.
So, I called him and discovered that he is right in the middle of doing the lighting for a play called A Farming Story that won the Sultan Padamsee Playwriting Competition organized by Theatre Group in Bombay last year. Apparently, the prize is that the play is produced and staged--so this year, I would be seeing last year's winner. Viraf told me that he would give me two complimentary tickets and Shahnaz was free to go with me. Before the show began at 6.00 pm, I would spend an hour interviewing him. That was the plan...
Accordingly, I got into a rick at 4. 15 pm--Shahnaz was supposed to meet me at the theater at 5.45 as she had some work in downtown Bombay. I have not been to the Prithvi Theater at Juhu in 30 years! Once upon a time, it was a regular haunt and, during my youthful days, I have done a fair share of hanging around its cafe sipping Irish Coffee and trying to look as hip as the beautiful people who thronged its leafy, canopied environs. Today, not much has changed...the caff is still there filled with hip young people with more money and time on their hands than they know what to do with them.
The rickshaw driver took me to a place called PMV (Cinema) Theater and insisted it was Prithvi Theater! I told him I was not senile yet and although it was 30 years since I had been there, I really did know the difference between a multi-plex cinema theater and a cultural center--because that, basically, is what the Prithvi has evolved into. A passer-by confirmed that it was not Prithvi that the driver had dropped me at...and suggested I get off, take another rickshaw with a driver who would know where the place was. Good thinking! I paid the fare, jumped off, then got into another rickshaw and within five minutes, I was there.
I met Viraf in the caff. Sadly, the years have taken their toll on me in more ways than one--I cannot sip those legendary Irish coffees anymore--not unless I want to risk serious insomnia! Hence, I had a mango lassi while he sipped a lemon iced tea. We got talking and I found him to be a great fun guy--full of amusing anecdotes of his growing years when he came under the direct influence of theatrical giants such as Adi Marzban who was his uncle! He was able to fill the gaps in my time line--although he was very vague about everything and told me he would look up a lot of data. While anecdotes make for amusing reading, at the end of the day, I do need factual data to substantiate my research!
It was 6.00 pm before we knew it and I had to get inside the theater. Shahnaz was stuck in traffic and would be arriving five minutes too late. Once the doors close, no one is allowed in until intermission. Too too bad!
It turned out that A Farming Story was written by someone called Vineet Bhalla, a Bombay chap who is now based in Toronto, Canada. He was present in the theater--which was very poorly filled. I counted merely 20 people in a fabulous amphitheater of an auditorium that has the capacity to seat 200. And for very good reason. It is a strange sort of play--a most unusual setting. It does not carry the setting or the characters that appeal to me. These were human beings on an 'estate' who are evolving into animals--they call themselves 'hummals'. For the moment, they have sprouted pointed cat-like ears while some have snouts and others have whiskers! They are oppressed by someone called Miss Brand who wears fascinators and sips bucket-sized drinks through a straw. She is the only human in the plot--the last of the humans, apparently, as the race has become near-extinct.
The hummals are invaded by a monkey family--who sport names such as Dante and Fenwick! One of the hummals (Samantha) falls in love with Dante, much to the consternation of the other hummals. She campaigns to save the monkey family while the rest of her race are demanding their destruction. Miss Brand steps in to take sides with the hummals. At the end of the play, the good guys die and Miss brand is victorious--a triumph of evil over good (which turns the tables on traditional drama). As I am not a fan of such fantasy settings (which is why I do not like Star Wars or Tolkien's Middle Earth and its weird characters), I had great difficulty connecting with the plot--although I did understand its message and its relevance in our day and age.
Shahnaz who reconnected with me during the interval (when, to kill time, she had stuffed her face with potato wedges and coffee!) told me that she quite liked the play although she thought it plagiarized the ideas of Orwell's Animal Farm a little too much. I disagreed that it was plagiarization. I told her that I thought Animal Farm might have inspired this play and that there are many literary works that inspire other ones. We had a nice discussion in the rickshaw on the way back together with a friend that Shahnaz bumped into called Rita Shanbagh. Her husband is Sunil Shanbagh, a well-known theater personality in Bombay. His revival of the play Deewar was debuted at the Prithvi Festival, a week ago.
Rita hopped off on Linking Road in Santa Cruz, Shahnaz hoped off at Linking Road in Bandra (she had a birthday party to attend at Global Fusion--lucky her!) and I directed the driver to my studio.
Back home, I called Dad to make sure all was well and then sat down to eat my dinner--repeat of my lunch plate--while watching Nigella's Christmas Special (which I chanced to come upon through You Tube). It might seem inappropriate at this time of year to be thinking about Christmas but the lights are already switched on in Oxford and Regent Streets in London and there are massive decorations at Covent Garden. Here in Bombay, we are recovering from the aftermath of Diwali, but I do believe we shall be swinging into the Christmas spirit soon. The Diwali lights will barely dim before the Christmas ones are switched on.
It had been a very good day and I do intend to finish up the other course syllabus tomorrow before I leave my studio to take Dad to his six-monthly appointment with his ophthalmologist. Hopefully, all will continue to be well.
Until tomorrow...
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