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This is an archive article published on October 6, 1999

Up Close amp; Then Some

TheatrewallahsOn Sunday, I went off to see a play at the Tata Experimental Theatre. I went to see it because someone organised tickets. W...

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Theatrewallahs

On Sunday, I went off to see a play at the Tata Experimental Theatre. I went to see it because someone organised tickets. What I am trying to say is, that I did not make a conscious choice to see the play. It was just something I slipped into doing. And I am glad I did so. The play was Vijay Tendulkar8217;s Cyclewallah.

A funny, touching drama, an hour and a half long. It has been running for a while, with breaks and a change of actors. Utkarsh Majumdar is the lead. He has been a stageman for yonks. And is also in television. Utkarsh was rivetting in the role. I am not sure I have seen him this in-charge before. I went backstage to tell him how good he was, after the play. That was when I heard that the original lead had been someone else. For several shows, before Utkarsh stepped in. Ah, the beauty of theatre! Actors can change, and shine in a role that wasn8217;t even planned with them.

I wish it was that simple with film. Bad performance? Substitute, please! The director is SunilShanbag. I like the work this man is doing in theatre. I like him as a director, I also like him for the choices he makes. He is one of the few theatre folks who are truly dedicated and committed to the craft. And such a sweetie too. Smiling and gentle, I wonder how he cracks the directorial whip! Though I got a taste of his hunger after the play. He had an audience that was fairly receptive. As receptive as you could hope for in a minimalist, metaphor-ridden play. Yet he wasn8217;t satisfied, he wanted MORE. The doyen of Indian theatre, Satyadev Dubey was present and told him not to be quot;greedyquot;.

Satyadev Dubey is back after a stint in UK. He is looking wonderful, trim and fresh. Claims he lost weight because he was starving. Dubey was invited to do a workshop and play in London. But now that he is back with two newly written plays under his belt, he is busy looking for sponsors. Any takers?

Book mark

I picked up the book because I loved the cover. Raj Kamal Jha8217;s The Blue Bedspread. Releasedin April, the book came out to mixed reviews. I met the author, a few months after I had read it. Last week he was in Bombay and did a reading. Apparently he was nervous, it was the first time he was reading his own work. Someone else usually did the honours. I had liked his book. But the author, in person, charmed me completely. He is a slight, slender sort of chap, weighted down by a ton of unruly, curly hair. Shy, diffident of manner, his confidence at handling awkward questions surprises.

There is an inner conviction about his work and life8217;s fundas; that are manifested in such a quiet way that it is disarming. Raj is an IIT-trained mechanical engineer. One of those people who have wasted our government8217;s grants, I teased him. He claims he took the degree to impress the girl next door. Unfortunately, she is now married to someone else. Actually, Raj is pretty happily married himself. Went on to the US to study journalism at UCLA. After his Masters, he worked with LA Times and NY Post. Butdidn8217;t quite see himself in the mould of an investigative journalist. It doesn8217;t turn him on to be party to the rise and fall of governments! He returned to Calcutta and The Statesman. Now lives and works with The Indian Express in Delhi. He talks of the structure of his book in an interesting fashion. He says his chapters are like the snapshots in a family album. Each photograph complete in itself, yet there is that intangible link between all the pictures in the album. His book, he claims, is like that. Open on any chapter and it reads like a story unto itself. In fact, he wrote the middle chapters first.

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He talked of being disheartened after he wrote the two chapters because of quot;the explosion that erupted over Indiaquot;. Nuclear? No. The God Of Small Things. He picked up Arundhati8217;s book and died a small death. How could he ever think of himself as a writer? How could anyone hope to compete with such wonderful writing? Well, as luck would have it, Arundhati8217;s publisher read his work inan eclectic writers magazine in Delhi. Evinced an interest, and the rest is history. The book is being translated into a dozen foreign languages. Last month, he was at an international book fair in Melbourne, and it was No 3 on the international best sellers list. Not bad. Now it is on The Guardian UK short list for a fiction prize. Love his prose, or dislike it yes, I have heard those reactions, this is a book that refuses to be ignored.

Anuradha Tandon is a ad film-maker.

 

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