When the
samosas at the Kala Academy eatery are soggy or missing, I know the program
will be good. It’s a personal thing, your experiences may be different.
(Aside: my apologies to everyone who
might disagree.)
Some weeks ago, two of three samosas that
I bought from the single cafeteria there were crisp. They’re never crunchy-crisp,
but those weren’t wet-cardboard-soggy either. Sure enough, one of the three
plays I saw that day was good. 2 crisp samosas = 2 lousy programs. Works every
time.
On Saturday
last, there were no samosas at all. The boys with the sullen expressions at the
eating-drinking counter didn’t give away the secret. I waited in front of the
glass shelf, salivating patiently with a ten-buck note in hand, for a tray of just-fried triangles to come from
inside. Then someone with a louder voice than mine asked and was told ‘no
samosas’. That’s when I knew the program would be a good one. It was. Very,
very good, the stage production of “Fiddler on the Roof”. The performers were
from Bangalore. All the actors were blessed with awesome larynxes. The
off-stage talent, too, knew lots about art, décor, sound, light and ticketing. They
didn’t apologize when they began late, but they lost not a second after that. It
was such a good show that we maaf karoed the
late start. My personal samosa theory was proved correct. So no complaints.
Another day, another
event. The poster that announced the Jugalbandhi Festival said it would start
at 3pm. (Been in Goa for years now and I’ve not learned my lesson; I’m still
punctual, silly me.) It started at 3:50, with no apology to the raseeka prakeshuck, the devotees of the rangabhoomi or the gurujana sitting in the audience.
The
first two performers played like the (school-) teachers they were. Considering
that the program was in the memory of (possibly) one of their late relatives, a
well-known musician, I thought that was ok. Family affair, need not set high
professional standards. At the end of Raag
Kirwani in teentaal, I even maroed taalees encouragingly, for the
sitarists weren’t besoor or betaal, and they’d entertained us. Not
bad.
But I was puzzled. Because that day
the samosas were so soggy that when I fed some morsels to the crows, they divided
themselves into teams and played tug-of-war with the covering. Eventually they
lost to the stray dogs. Which meant something worthwhile should have happened…
not to the crows, no-no-no. Soggy samosas were lucky for me. Plus, the
cafetaria staff was in a worse than usual mood, which meant I could look
forward to at least an A-grade program on the stage.
My theory was proved correct. No disappointment.
After the first two mediocre duets came redemption. The second set of tabla-players
(Swapnil Bhise and Shruteendra Katagade) proved my samosa theory was
working. Their wake-up call was followed
by a brilliant harmonium jugalbandhi.
The sweet taans of Raag Madhuvanti in jhaptaal were brought to life by Sarang Kulkarni and Anirudha
Srinivasraghavan. Anirudha is ex-IIT,
ex-IIM. Plus he makes lovely music. Such people give me a complex. I must find
out if there’s an anti-envy pill available. I need to keep a dozen strips
handy.
The finale was excellent. Taalyogi Padmashree Suresh Talwalkar and
his disciples presented a mridanga-kirtan.
The bouncing beats, the boom in the rhythm, the synergy… the soggy samosas were
vindicating my theory. The soggier they (samosas, not theories) are the better
the program. The upper limbs of Nagesh Adgaonkar, Bhagwat Chavan, Sujit Lohar
and their team-mates worked together to bring to life bols from past centuries which their guru, Talwalkar, sang with
perfect clarity and diction. No meanings there, the language of the taals was to be felt, experienced. Years
of training and discipline added to inherent talent can make magic. Chautaal, Raag Bihag, the song Dev ke raja Mahadev.
During the week, I visited the KA
with a friend to check on new programs. The halls were closed; friend and I
wandered into the flooded and forlorn art gallery. At the eatery, we bought
syrupy hot beverages and (you guessed it) samosas. They were crisp. Naturally:
there was no event that day.
That breezy monsoon afternoon, I made
another discovery. At payment, if you don’t have the exact change, the price
gets magically rounded to the nearest (higher) number ending with zero.
New theory to investigate: the
connection between keeping moad and
the quality of programs.
Feedback: sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in
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