Selective Amnesia There was a point to this. But I forgot.

I play the game too

Went to a play yesterday – imaginatively called, “Platform” – play about what happens on a small town railway platform.

Platform, by the Madras Players, India’s oldest, and longest running English Theatre group, was a pretty good play. Tight, fast, a few elements of comic relief, but as usual, most endings of plays are very “theatrical”. Theatrical not in the usual sense of the word – but theatrical as in trying too much to conform to usual theatre standards – basically trying too hard.

While on the subject of Plays, let me tell you that I too have played the game of Plays. In school, college and places far too numerous, I have stoked my ego, putting up amateur performances.

I considered myself a stage natural – a clear diction, commanding presence and all – but that hope was soon burned to ground – I once had a line to say, pretty simple – “Hi! How are ya” – which my clear diction rendered “Hey Whore!” – thus ending a promising career on stage.

I immediately turned to the writing and directing bit of it – considering myself a natural – one born to amuse and illuminate audiences with my stunningly simple, lucid stories – and a direction that lifts even the basest metal into supreme gold.

Thus, my first play was born – a simple story about thieves who demand that they be left to thieve alone – without interference from the police.

It was a miserable failure – the people loved it. They couldn’t stop laughing a second – while I wanted them to curse me for bringing to the forefront a sorry aspect of the society – the play was intended to sting and hurt – but what it did was tickle.

A festering wound inside notwithstanding, I ventured forth, and put up my second play for the viewing public – and it was a stupendous hit. Truly, I have a lot to thank my close friends for.

Then there was this time – I forget what time it was – but I do remember putting up a small translation of a small story (written by yours truly) – only – the audience didn’t get what I was saying at all – damn pre-kg kids.

Oh well.

Before I forget – Saturday, another theatre group – Evam – will be adapting the film “Barefoot in the Park” (which was an adaptation of the play of the same name) as a play. Having been to Evam’s previous performances, I am sure they will do a real good job of this.

Those in Madras, or who don’t mind coming down for a good cause, do come to the play Barefoot in the park, in aid of the Cancer Institute.