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.
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.
Your blow my mind away .
ReplyDeleteYour blow my mind away .
ReplyDeleteI hope I continue to do so. :)
Delete