The Great Indian Street Play. Part- 1

To start with, let me present to you a cliche attached with plans and its spontaneity: "The best trips are unplanned." So was my trip on a breezy evening with my cousins. It was an usual drive along the highway with sarcasm and humor filling up the air, a 2000 word rant about all the nostalgic memories and so on and so forth, until we came across a small settlement of our fellow species, gathered in all awe and wonder. It's human tendency to lurk into crowds and find out what the fuss is all about, no matter how bad or good a thing it is. Likewise, we lurked into the crowd.

After a quick glance at all the artists dressed up in traditional attires, huge sets and eye-catching makeup all around, the human brain quickly processed that what was happening around was a street play. A street play ranging on various topics from the traditional depictions of Ramayana and Mahabharata to short depictions of valuable stories. Of course, this was a common scene among theater lovers and artists back in the bustling streets of Bangalore, but there was something special about this street play, so much so that, I ended up writing about the same.

The artists were overwhelmingly happy to notice us stop by. Such a warm welcome their smiles signified. These artists were undoubtedly remarkable in terms of their skills, I can say that because on the sight of their entry on the stage, the crowd roared with enthusiasm. Meanwhile I had found a kind stranger who promised me to update with all that was going on regarding the street play.

Upon inquiring my kind stranger, yes, 'my kind stranger' for he was too kind to patiently answer my jet of questions shooting right at him one after the other, I was aware that the street play takes place over a course of  30 days. The stage shows were set up during the evening, extending up-to 5 in the morning. And, trust me, people would only wind up once it was done.After a course of 30 days, they would vacate and shift to a new place, starting all over again and showcasing their artistic brilliance and wooing the audiences.

The show was about to begin in quarter of an hour. It was a custom to start off any act with humor. A skinny man, dressed in a stripped pink and white clown-dress, sporting curly hair and so heavy a makeup, it was hard to actually predict how he actually looked like. He conquered the whole stage making funny remarks by interacting with the audience and guess what? It seemed to work, the audiences were amazingly happy and the atmosphere soared with positivity.

My kind stranger would often silence me and point towards the stage at the omnipotent jokes and remarks. How observant these people were; I fell in love with their attitude! My kind stranger added, that it was sacred to them, to enact the characters and get into the soul of the character, was all that their life revolved around. That sort of passion was keeping the art alive.

However, these artists were carrying forward what their ancestors started. It was a hierarchical work, or I must say, passion. Now, nothing to emphasize on hierarchy but the fact that they chose to better the art and showcase it, crept in me a lot of respect and admiration. There weren't any passes for the show or advertisements. Rather, the well off lot in the particular area, sponsored the whole act, covering the artists' accommodation, food and needs. How beautiful! To be able to organize something so magnificent for your fellow beings and gather all of them at a place, lighting up the atmosphere with joy and splendor.

Meanwhile a depiction of a scene from the Mahabharata was to commence, and my kind stranger had to witness it in peace, which meant without my cascade of questions. I thanked him for all the valuable information and waited with utmost curiosity to witness the same. To observe, to applaud, to fall in love with the artistic brilliance.

My overly-understanding cousins waited until I had finished and we were ready to witness something we never had before.
The screen opens and the mind musings vanish.
The senses activate.
I observe with my heart and soul.

© Deekshita Srinivas. 21st April, 2015.

Do not write.

Planning to call me a hypocrite since I write volumes but yet the post name is the contrary? Well, hold on. Read till the end and then decide. :)

More often than not, I hear people say that they want to write, but aren't able to. They want to impress people and friends with their writing, but aren't able to. They want to express, but aren't able to.

If one among the above mentioned is a reason why one would want to write, then let me tell you, please do not write. Ever. No, trust me, please do not write.



Writing deserves to be adored, to be given such high a place that there is absolutely no replacement to that. If you do want to write, it should be that easy. And, that hard. So easy, that once you sit down at your desk, or your computer/laptop and begin to write, words, phrases, paragraphs and pages should flood your mind. Just like the blood jet in the human body. It goes on and on, silently doing it's work, covering every tiny speck of space. Hard, because you cannot stop. You cannot stop from expressing all that your mind utters. And yet, deciding what to let out at the moment is what writing is all about.

Do not write for a publication, for fame, for impressing family and friends, for trying to be somebody, for a friend who loves writing, for anything less than what your soul would tear apart without. Write, because if not writing, you would lose your grip. You would go insane without penning down those thoughts. Write, when the thoughts strike you so deep that if you aren't allowed to put them into words, your head would dissolve into thin air. If it's not like that, do not write.

If you sit, staring blankly at the keyboard for hours and hours, looking for inspiration, do not write. Do not write if you have to just update your blog or journal. Do not write if it doesn't leave you awestruck. Do not write ever again if you feel satisfied with your writing. That's right. Do not write. No good writer ever is content with his/her writing, there is always this element of, 'it-could-have-been-better' linked with any piece of write up.

Write because at the end of the day, no matter how overwhelmingly amazing or terribly nasty it was, all you want to do is lose yourself in writing. A poem within a story within a book. Write when you are head over heels in love with writing. Write when the magic never fades;a year, a decade, a million years.

Write like you breathe air. Write like your eyes light up on the sight of the mid-summer rain after a scorching and humid Sixth of April evening.

Wait for it to woo you. Wait for the thoughts to flow. Wait for the mind to ramble and muse and nag you. Wait for your soul to stir into restless. Thereafter, sit down and write. Notice how magical that feels. Notice how beautiful your mind is. Notice that unadulterated love.

"Nobody ever painted, sculpted, wrote, danced, sang, except of course to get out of hell."
Happy writing!

Much love.

© Deekshita Srinivas. 18th April, 2015.