My First Show in Rangashankara

Loonie Moonie

I met this cancerian RA after almost a year in Amrith Kalash. He was the one who introduced me to Mozart’s symphonies. I believe, some westerner listening to alapanais in carnatic music would feel the same – amusing, rather than soul stirring. He introduced me to Mecano – starting with ‘Hijo De La Luna’ and Russian – Kriknov Klinom Zhuravlinym (cry like cranes) last year. I had a moment of anger, reconciling with the Spanish song when I realized the Othello – Omkara like suspicion lingering in it.

So one evening, he shared some more foreign movies – French, Swedish, Chinese, Spanish and Polish, then I wondered, when I would have the time to watch them considering schedules. He suggested, why don’t we go to Rangashankara, but I was locked with PIs from 7-9 in koramangala, luckily nothing was slotted for that evening and so I said yes.

Our trip to Rangashankara

The whole day had been hectic with the prof’s work for which, I needed to go to the library, considering the wi-fi speed in the k-block. I reached 2 minutes late and AS sir along with his wife (who has done PhD in gynecology) bumped into us on the way. We sped away in sir’s car, which had child lock for the rear seats, so that meant, the prof or his wife had to open the door for us each time. We reached around 7:10 pm while the RA went about recollecting the drinking incident with VM sir for the Day 1 of 5 of the contemporary dance series. AS sir, kept on regaling us with his driving experiences in London and NY and how he would happily run over all those who shoved their vehicles, without following lane discipline and how he had actually run down a student on bike flat near the institute gate.

The Theatre Ambience

The crowd was pretty eclectic, couple of foreigners, gays (whom the RA was keen to point out), old classy aggies in casuals, MIT Sloan PhDs, my Theatre course instructor amongst others. There was a long queue leading up the curved black steps, while I took the lift and joined the three later in the hall. The screens were pitch black, with black speakers. After small talks, the announcement was that this was about the ‘reaction of the body.’

The performance by the Norwegian dancers

A lady dressed in casual parrot green and black shirt and pant, came in moving as if, she had an epileptic seizure at times. She flinged her hands and legs in every possible direction and moved all around the stage. Slowly the sounds of music trickled in, raising almost reaching a crescendo, and then meandering to various notes high and low. Slowly, another athletic lady joined in throwing her whole body in a reckless violence, falling now with a thud, moving her limbs as if she was trying to get up after an accident. There was a cute little nubile damsel with a bob cut, and another girl. Of the two guys, one was, constantly chewing a bubblegum on the stage, which was quite unbecoming. Once or twice there was some sort synchronization between a pair, which immediately dissolved into motley of mechanical, jerking movements.

The music died and the bubble gum guy, closed his eyes and started taking steps forward, almost tripping over the stage, when he suddenly said a loud piercing BOOM, that the crowd started sniggering. AS sir and his wife were continuously making loud comments ridiculing the whole thing, that many a times, my neighbour on the left started staring at sir.

The performers, changed tops in between. And a girl dressed in yellow came, acting as a puppet, pulling her own invisible strings. That was beautifully performed and her marionette like movements was quite amusing. Now, I know, why our theatre instructor made us do the things, we had to do in OAT. The lady who came in first acted as a bewildered leader while the rest followed her behind, trying to be nondescript. Casual interactions where everyone simply walks with great agility all over, quite close to each other, yet not touching each other and similar such theatre games.

In between some animal sounds were made, with the dancers, reacting as if they had been hurt, mauled and what not. Suddenly a shadow creature dressed like batman without the cape crept behind the performers, acting like their shadows.

After the show – 1 hr 10 minutes later

Once the show was over after 1 hr and 10 minutes on dot, the audience clapped while sir again made fun of the whole thing. He stated that he had to paid 200 rather 300 for watching this show. He said, he would come to Rangashankara again only after hearing at least 5 reviews. His first experience was ‘flowers’ apparently. This was the case of emperor’s clothes, where if you said, you didn’t like, you were not considered an intellectual.

Having learnt Bharatnatyam for 4 years, I simply love dance. I love watching the divinely melting, graceful movements of amazing dancers, brimming with bhavana. Of course, I do like energetic sensuous movements of Salsa or ethereal ballet, a belly/ hip dancing as well amongst other fast dances, but this was something, I was not quite used to. I don’t think I would spend time and money watching what they call contemporariness.

We had our dinner (ragi roti, akki roti, masala dosa, pineapple dosa, plain dosa) just opposite to Rangashankara where they were playing nice old hindi songs like mera jhutha hai japani. The waiter got us two ½ coffees even before we had finished our rotis but without sugar. So he got a replacement and did not charge for it in the final bill. AS sir started talking boisterously about abstract act, suggesting water as abstract coffee. The RA was saying how on day 1, the floor and the screen had Manhattan city streets being projected and how the solo performer had walked in the projected streets on stage. AS sir retorted that he could create a corporate finance course and just show only Manhattan pictures in it. Where was the action for the reaction to take place?

One thing, I had to admit, was their amazing body flexibility, halasanas amongst all other asanas that the Caucasians did seemingly with such an ease while trying to ‘react to something’ as they announced initially was really engaging. Sir dropped me back to campus and RA alighted past Shoppers Stop.

Anandmath

As kids, we were encouraged to write poems. We ended up with ridiculous rhymes – even on trivial issues like the first time, I fought with my best friend, elephants, birthdays for siblings and parents. My sister and brother would also compose loving rhymes and write them on b’day cards. Gone are the days of innocent creativity. Now no matter how much I rake my head, I can’t replicate the ease with which, I wrote a 6 stanza amusing rhyme which I composed when I was 10 years old.

So composing rhymes - we did. Singing other’s songs - we did. My sister and I used to sing in unison, while my dad drummed the tea poy to add some music. But I found only in novels like ‘A Suitable Boy’ where people composed rhymes spontaneously as a matter of conversation.

While going through Indian National Movement, I was curious to know about Vande Mataram and hence Anandamath. This will be more of an eisegesis. I downloaded the hindi translation from scribd. In Anandmath, the protagonists, the instigators breaking into singing now and then, kind of made the whole affair theatrical. Yet in those times, Vande mataram was THE, the song. It set the stage ablaze with other patriotic words like Tum Mujhe Khoon do... Yet to antagonize one section of the junta (muslims) till the very end was kind of discomfiting. Shanthi actually says to the englishman, we don't have enmity with you, it is the muslims we are targetting. Set in period of famine, oppression and exploitation by various factors, the confusion was understandable.

Kalyani chose not to eat till she saw her husband! What sanyasins - to lit fires to muslims’ houses, where young babies, women and old folk might be there? How could they wrongly identify their oppressors? What use of personal sacrifices with personal moral values citing larger causes? Yet, to realize that there were herbs to revive those who had taken poison or suffered fatal wounds in a battle is revealing. Bhavanand atoned for his misdemeanour, yet the leader of the brotherhood had to die with such open secrets. Nehru's story is well known, but i was surprised to see even Mahatma had wanted a spiritual marriage. Well history is mostly written by the victors, it is so hard to discern the truth.

Feisty Shanthi's childhood was quite a surprise. Her calmness in the face of her husband's mistaken infidelity, her physical and moral courage, yet towards the end of the battle, her lamenting like an ordinary woman, made Shanthi quite a lady. And Shanthi and Jeevanand were hailed as the exemplary couples. Well, wrongly channeled patriotism. Of course, being a minority in those days, they retaliated for the sufferings, yet it was towards the fag end that the author chose to reveal the futility of their efforts.

In school days, we sang this song numerous times, as part of prayers, competitions, classes, dramas. In Bengal, there is something about glorifying Shakthi - be it Ramakrishna Paramahamsa worshipping Kali, Aurobindo attributing all creative endeavours to The Supreme Mahashakthi (Mahamaya, Paraprakruti), or BC Chatterjee visualizing Mother India as Malayajasheethlaam, Shasyashyamalaam... etc.

In the this nationalist novel, wish the heros and Shanthi had directed their zeal and vigour in a better way.

Pingala

When we (sis, bro and i) were in Kendriya Vidyalaya, the school timings were from 9-3:30 pm. We used to come home make quick pepper omelette (I became a vegetarian only in 2005) and eat rice and some kolambu, watch Remington Steele, Different Strokes, Small Wonder, Who’s the Boss glued to the TV.

Those days, my vocabulary naturally was poor and I picked from the school library, Kamala Das’s Padmavati the Harlot and Other Stories. I was 12 years old then and did not know the meaning of the word. Of course, once in college, I had no compunctions reading Sheldons or Robbins after my initial shock. Harlot somehow got linked to Small Wonder’s Harriet in my mind.

I remembered Ida, Pingala and Sushumna nadis and the effect of pranayam on them. And I also bumped into the story of Pingala the 17^th preceptor of Datta in a spiritual website. After reading that, I was wondering, why do women marry in this material world? What does the wife seek in her husband? Of course, there are some lives united eternally from previous births, who happily rejoin again and again. I have seen 2 such pairs.

But otherwise, Pingala’s desire for companionship, pleasures and material security and how she comes out of her desire made me wonder. Some might equate this Grapes are sour.

Extracts from the site:

Once, after a long waiting at night for a man, Pingala became dispassionate. She reflected what madness it was to associate herself with her body. Unable to control her senses, she had lamented, all the while for a man who desired her body. She disgusted the miserable desire that someone would come and make her happy. She remembered eternal Hari and realized what a fool she was to think that if some man were to squeeze her body, she would get happiness. She realizes her delusion in beholding her body and its beauty, various structures covered by skin. There are 9 doors (9 doors was mentioned in Vidhurniti as well) and what comes out of them daily is filth. She thinks, how hard, she strove to beautify this thing called body. By loving these perishable things, what happiness does one attain? Finally she gives up desires and realizes happiness in total surrender to lord Hari.

This afternoon, my physiotherapist asked me if I was a pentecoste and why I was not wearing any ornaments. The truth was, I didn’t feel like left to myself. There are days, when I give up all desires, and take life as it comes – laze around. Yet there are days, when I schedule my hours and work out my plans. Suddenly now am shaky on Karmanye Vadikarasthe. Desires and goals. Got to re-read the explanations.

Bimbisara and Bindusara

I got into a Why me situation and queried my teacher. He just said, read Nitishastra. I thought it was Kautilya’s Nitishastra and read it. Later I learnt that my teacher had meant Vidhurniti, Nitis from Ramayan, Mahabharat.

As I was reading about Kautilya’s Nitishastra, and all about Chanakya, I remembered an episode where Chanakya, cut open the queen’s belly to save the prince. So I was googling for the prince’s name, but all I could remember was Bimbisara and nothing about him, came close to my recollections. Then at last, I went back to history and got my doubts clarified.

Bimbisara and his Son

Bimbisara from the pre-Mauryan era, had a son Ajatashatru. Some links mention that when the queen was pregnant with Ajatashatru, she had a craving for tasting king’s blood and Bimbisara cut his hand for the queen. Bimbisara in spite of all bad omens took utmost care of his son. Once as a child, Ajatashatru developed an abscess and was crying incessantly. Bimbisara, gently placed his son’s thumb in his mouth in order to soothe the child. The son fell asleep and the abscess burst open inside the kings mouth, yet Bimbisara swallowed the pus, so that the sleeping child is not disturbed.

When Bimbisara learnt, that Ajatshatru wanted to kill him to claim the throne, he freely gave up the throne. Yet Ajatashathru, imprisoned his father, starved him. Bimbisara had attained sotapanna (first stage of sainthood) thanks to Buddha and hence could walk meditatively for days without food. When Ajatashatru realized this, he ordered his father’s sole to be cut and filled salt and oil on the raw flesh. Bimbisara died a terrible death due to past karma.

Bindusara and his Mother

He was Chandragupta Maurya’s son and Asoka’s father. Chanakya used to mix small amounts of poison in the King’s food regularly so that the King could survive in case of any poison attack. Accidentally, his pregnant queen had the King’s food and swooned to death. Once Chanakya learnt this, he quickly got the queen’s belly cut open and got out the prince alive. Since a drop of poison had touched the baby, he was named Bindusara.

I was just wondering about the fate of the kings and queens. Patricide, murders what not.

Palagummi Sainath

source

We had a course called Business Government and Society - BGS which introduced P. Sainath’s “Everybody Loves a Good Drought” I selectively read the chapters and articles on issues in Tamilnadu, was surprised to learn that he had been to Pudukottai, very near Trichy. He had walked so many miles deep into rural villages. I remember the cattle breeding disaster, where a local breed was threatened close to extinction due to artificial insemination with a foreign breed. He brought to light, farmers suicides, esp. plight of farmers in Vidarbha and many other rural stark realities.

One of my professors told that in a remote village she actually saw a small pox infected person. The government officials would not acknowledge it, since they had proclaimed that small pox was eradicated on records.

And in the second year, he came for a lecture in the auditorium. He was full of data points of the HDI, key figures on health and education and other social indicators comparing India with sub Saharan African countries. He was telling, how his living expenses were coming down, while that of his bai (maid) was going up. Airfares (in 2010 not now) were getting cheaper, while the cost of staples like rice, wheat, dal, oil, vegetables and fruits, emergency trip to hospital were skyrocketing.

He finished his speech with Nero burning prisoners to provide lighting for the dinner feast. Of a similar feast in India that spread over many days in the midst of acute famine all around. He said, it was hopeless to think about the emperor, but what happened to the conscience of the invited guests. I was and still am shocked to learn about Nero.

In 2009, he refused a Padma award. He has not accepted a single government award, a government whose dismal policy implementations have harmed the rural people.

Just prior to that term, my CCS (Contemporary Concerns Study) was on Sustainable and Inclusive Healthcare for people at the Base of the Pyramid. Wish I happened to listen to him, before my CCS. He didn’t make statements out of the blue; he substantiated each of them with facts and figures. There would be some who would not agree with his brusqueness. I was just bowled over by his talk.

Cricket after a long time

A futile Trip

I would have chosen Economic Times given a choice, but since my second cousin is with express publications, he arranged IE and Dinamani for free. Peter Vidal in IE warned about travel plans and communications plans to the fore, but the world is not going to end if few plans would be delayed. Out of curiousity, I wanted to check what astrogyan had to say at 9 pm (after my futile trip) in its daily predictions and it too mentioned futile journeys. Of course, 90% of the days, daily predictions would be ridiculous at the worst, amusing at the best.

Well here is the saga.

I woke up this morning, still feeling groggy after going through Magsaysay awardees till late in the night yes’day night or should I say, early this morning. Out of habit, I just picked up the paper, cruised through and found one engagement really alluring. So I set forth, without a second thought, to the spot in the hot scorching afternoon. The wind was so fierce that I could not manage my lavendar umbrella with the gusts of wind, with my jittery aching right leg. Many a times, I folded the umbrella and unfolded it once the wind force dropped. After more than 30 mins of walking I reached the venue. I found no posters, but yes, the program direction indicator was there. I found the concerned Department after asking one girl and found no signs of any talks going on there. I asked the office and found that the talk had got over just the day before. I was furious - one printing mistake and !@#@$. For the first time, I had boarded a bus, all alone, and didn’t even carry any support, walked all the way from busstop. Now in the evening, I can’t even take another step.

Locked Out Back Home

I boarded an auto on the way back and took another bus and reached home without much ado just to find the door locked. We have only one key, and the other key is with my uncle, who visits whenever mom summons him for some bureaucratic chores.

I sat on the mango tree swing and tried to read Macroeconomics, but I badly wanted to stretch my feet and relax. The opposite door was locked. So I went to SK’s house, since it too was on the ground floor, and M opened the door. He said, I could go up and stay with the first floor aunty. But I didn’t want to climb up stairs and walked back to the backyard and sat on the swing. He joined me at the backyard and got me a white plastic bag full of jackfruits and water bottle, snatching out my book and bag, stating he would return them, only if I ate jackfruits. He picked up the mangoes that had fallen on the ground. Just that afternoon, he had dumped a big whole jackfruit and given another plastic bag of peeled jackfruits.

I learnt he had planted 2 of the plantain saplings along with others in our backyard. I learnt that he had cut his own left arm creating a big cross mark scar. I really wonder how teenagers could cut themselves; I can't even stand being pinched. After some vetti philosophy mokkais, he called out his playmates 8th std Sai and later 9th std Tahera Thasneem to play cricket. I learnt the meaning of 2 arabic names. He chose cricket because, I said no to shuttlecock. I just watched in mute helplessness, as they stepped over vettiveru, adathoda and small curry leaves and planted the cricket stumps. The soft ball narrowly missed me twice. There was a tiny brat Rajan half my height, who was hounding Tahera with a bat and stumps. And Tahera despite her size was fleeing away.

I learnt that bubbly Tahera had come home to pick up few clothes and that she was going back to hospital to meet her family members who were all admitted after an Indica-Lorry accident in Karur while returning from Ooty summer trip. As usual the lorry driver fled away. Thank god they had insurance and they were all alive. Other injury details are better left unsaid. Am glad at least she was spared and her eyebrow scars would disappear soon considering her young age. They had been admitted for 10 days and it would take 1 more week to get discharged it seems.

Thank God mom came home within 1.5 hours of waiting. Once the doors opened, I just dragged T inside and gave her mosambi juice, helped her with mail and facebook (wrong time) and bid her good bye. As I was still standing near the door watching her go, she turned back after a while and waved her hand. She was really cute, fresh as a daisy, so young, (17 years younger than me) a real child-woman, voluptuous in her clinging attire. I completely forgot about M and his playmates in the backyard. Yet neighbours as always. These days, I like solitude, and I don’t mind company. There were days when it was opposite.

Food for Ants

Into physiotherapy now, flexing with 1 kg weights. Am in level 1 of 5. Long way to go. Am kind of walking without support. The bones should be fully strong by July 22nd. I happened to read Taitreya Upanishad last saturday, when I wanted to discover the source of frequently quoted Annam na nindyaath. I had to keep on remembering that whenever I had my food. Some old paatis still preserve their kaimanam, but mom’s old age has transformed her to a forgetful disillusioned baby carrying on living out of habit. I should soon take charge of kitchen to give mom her much deserved rest. Food rests on food, this body is created out of food, respect food. No wonder, this body too is food to many other creatures.

Samy came home and I continued reading, watching Knowing and The Firm in parallel without talking to him. I just smiled when he came and slipped inside the bedroom quietly. Don’t know what is happening, am watching TV the whole day and all my planning has gone to the dogs. Need to finish TMH in a fortnight.

I can usually sense any tiny ant (around 3mm in length) if it moves on my body. Even if one climbs up my leg, I can feel it and kill it (only the small red biting ants). There were years, when I used to gently lift the biting ant and let it go thinking that I should follow principles of ahimsa and not take another creature’s life, even if it hurt me. I would watch my steps, so that i would not step on a petal or other small creatures. But later had to crush the ants. I can just blow away a black non biting ant, but its hard with the biting red ants.

Later, I decided to murder only those ants that moved on my physical body and not the ants that were on the books or the sofa I was sitting on. I was watching JayamKondaan in KTV and Casino Royale in parallel and suddenly I felt a sting in my suture line below my knee. I jerked and got up to find not one or two, but dozens of red biting ants all swarming around my suture line. The sofa was almost in the middle of the room far away from walls and corners. The suture line above my knee on my thigh is thrice in length, yet has healed nicely, but the one just below the knee is still reeking flesh smell, that I believe attracts these flesh eating ants. I quickly brushed them off and applied povidone iodine gel over the suture. I had stopped applying it after the 4th day of suture removal and now the ants have compelled me to keep on applying that gel.

And on Monday again, in spite of applying gel, I found a small group of ants on my knee. The last time the red biting ants had lined up to my leg was after 2007 ilizarov (Taylors struts) same June month. I was sleeping on the bed, when the biting red ants woke me up. They were all around one of the external pins sticking out of my tibia that had dried blood around it. Only in these 30+ years old quarters and hot quarters ecosystem, these ants reign because, without help, mom is too old and am too lazy to clean up thoroughly unlike previous company’s serviced apartments where uniformed folks do it twice every day.

The biting ants reminded me of convict’s death in Papillon and new born pig tailed baby’s death in A thousand Years of Solitude. Thank god the bigger biting red ants just stick to the mango and tamarind trees and don’t march inside the quarters.

After Ants Episode

The morning, after the first ants’ episode, I decided to scrub bath with double care. I applied dhanavantaram oil all over. After selective soaping, I applied the foam of dettol liquid handwash over the suture lines. My hands could not be still and when I started pulling out the scarred skin, and out came suture bit around 1 cm in length, that the doctor had missed taking out. Looking by the strong feel of the suture even after 25 days, I don’t think they could get absorbed / dissolved. There was one more suture knot in my thigh, that I could not pull out on my own. The sister pulled it out on Monday. And after i left the hospital, i figured out why ants are still swarming because there are 2 more suture bits left inside below knee. Have to ask the sisters once more tomorrow to dig it out. I wish I could remember the name of the ayurvedic herb, which would ease out any foreign body lodged in flesh without any pain.

Geography

My geography knowledge needs lots of bolstering. I don’t quite remember why I wanted to know where Kenya was. So wiki lead me to Kenya and there on to Kenya’s health and it went to FGC and I remembered reading Desert Flower in Reader’s Digest and this makes me cringe inside. Oh my god, what and all people have done to girls and women. I remember there was a guy with Bohra surname in the same account I was in. Oriental foot binding, Corsets, acids, dowry, burning, domestic violence.... Oh my god, can’t girls just be?