Depiction
Pondicherry: In the 60s, in a newly divorced India, the Boulevard Town of Pondicherry had a cluster full of leftovers of the stylish French era. Almost no one up north knew much about this region of their own land, struggling to exist. Narayan Shanmugam, a famous local freedom fighter, who was involved in the revolts against the Dutch and the French, had initiated a drama company aided by his only daughter, Swaroopi. They named it ‘Itihaas Ke Gavah’ (Witnesses Of History), and as the title suggests, the plays organized therein were supposed to tell tales of pre-historic India. Narayan would spend time with Swaroopi every day after the shows ended. His love for her was seamless and like a good father, he would dedicate all the stage plays to his only child. Their newest play was “The Ghost”, which did attract a healthy number of viewers to the theatre. The act began.
ACT- 1
Mahesh, an officer in the French army has a daughter Janki. Although he is an Indian, the pays and royalty of the foreigners has had him lured and he proudly devotes himself to the invaders in their devilish deed of oppressing his own motherland. No doubt he was rewarded a well-built dwell and lavish services. Janki could attend an excellent school, thanks to the generous French East India Company. One day, the little girl with curious eyes and innocent gestures asks her father something.
Pondicherry: In the 60s, in a newly divorced India, the Boulevard Town of Pondicherry had a cluster full of leftovers of the stylish French era. Almost no one up north knew much about this region of their own land, struggling to exist. Narayan Shanmugam, a famous local freedom fighter, who was involved in the revolts against the Dutch and the French, had initiated a drama company aided by his only daughter, Swaroopi. They named it ‘Itihaas Ke Gavah’ (Witnesses Of History), and as the title suggests, the plays organized therein were supposed to tell tales of pre-historic India. Narayan would spend time with Swaroopi every day after the shows ended. His love for her was seamless and like a good father, he would dedicate all the stage plays to his only child. Their newest play was “The Ghost”, which did attract a healthy number of viewers to the theatre. The act began.
ACT- 1
Mahesh, an officer in the French army has a daughter Janki. Although he is an Indian, the pays and royalty of the foreigners has had him lured and he proudly devotes himself to the invaders in their devilish deed of oppressing his own motherland. No doubt he was rewarded a well-built dwell and lavish services. Janki could attend an excellent school, thanks to the generous French East India Company. One day, the little girl with curious eyes and innocent gestures asks her father something.
Janki: “Appa, what is a ghost?”
Mahesh: “A ghost? (He chuckles in raging pride.) Okay, listen carefully. A ghost is a dark-skinned person who either wears a soiled shirt, or dons nothing. Such persons are NOT TO BE TOUCHED as they are unclean and impure. They can never be our friends and would feast on our blood if we near them. This slave (points at a servant) is the best example. Understand?”
Janki: (Nods her head.) Okay, Appa. Please come home soon today.
*Curtains fall*
ACT-2
Mahesh is home, but it is too late. He finds his little fairy in the grip of drowse in a blanket, and goes off to sleep without disturbing her. A complex dream awaits him. It’s Janki talking to him in his dream.
Janki: “Appa, I think I found a ghost.”
Mahesh: “And how can you say that, princess?”
Janki: “As you said he would, he feasted on me and my blood. What is blood, Appa? But…the ghost didn’t appear like how you said he would. He was fair, tall and spoke something very difficult to understand. Also, he donned a neatly ironed uniform just like you. The ghost kept addressing me as “Petit”, what does that mean, Appa? And…and…then I saw another ghost. The one who looked exactly like you described. Dark-skinned, wearing a soiled shirt…he pounced on the other ghost and started hitting him. He was very bad, hitting somebody is bad. Then, the fair ghost shot the dark one with a gun and dragged him somewhere. He was a bad ghost too. Killing somebody is very bad. Right, Appa?”
Mahesh wakes up with a sudden jerk and breathes heavily. When he takes the blanket off Janki, he finds her drowned in the pool of her own dried blood. Repenting couldn’t bring her back, shouting and crying wouldn’t either. Mahesh is left hopeless in despair and with no one to help him. Not even a ghost.
*curtains fall*
The watchers left the theatre heartbroken and sad. When the place was vacated, Narayan realized that he loved his daughter more than anything else, because her absence was strongly felt. She was never there. The depiction in all the plays had been a reflection of their life.
. . .
Pune: The Marathi theatre flourished in the post-independence period and comic dramas had come into fashion. Ganesh Kelkar asked himself, “Would my play be a laugh riot? Are the costumes perfect? Is the script well-chiselled? Pranav! Please check with the lights! I need no shortcomings.” He panicked of nervousness and his heart skipped as many beats as the Jagirdars and Deshmukhs walked into the auditorium.
ACT-1
Damodar: “Oh god, fetch me employment today! I swear to the neighbour’s god, I’ll bathe you in ‘ORIGINAL’ milk.”
Suraj: “Did you have English whiskey early in the morning? Where are you going to get this original milk from?”
Damodar: “Chill, brother. We get lots of it in the ORIGINAL DAIRY down the street. I’ll show the name on the packet to Deva.”
Suraj: “Nice, very nice. This is what father taught you, didn’t he? To cheat people all day long, Right?”
Damodar: “That’s how I am going to buy English whiskey at the price of ORIGINAL milk” (winks at him).
*scene change*
Mahesh: “A ghost? (He chuckles in raging pride.) Okay, listen carefully. A ghost is a dark-skinned person who either wears a soiled shirt, or dons nothing. Such persons are NOT TO BE TOUCHED as they are unclean and impure. They can never be our friends and would feast on our blood if we near them. This slave (points at a servant) is the best example. Understand?”
Janki: (Nods her head.) Okay, Appa. Please come home soon today.
*Curtains fall*
ACT-2
Mahesh is home, but it is too late. He finds his little fairy in the grip of drowse in a blanket, and goes off to sleep without disturbing her. A complex dream awaits him. It’s Janki talking to him in his dream.
Janki: “Appa, I think I found a ghost.”
Mahesh: “And how can you say that, princess?”
Janki: “As you said he would, he feasted on me and my blood. What is blood, Appa? But…the ghost didn’t appear like how you said he would. He was fair, tall and spoke something very difficult to understand. Also, he donned a neatly ironed uniform just like you. The ghost kept addressing me as “Petit”, what does that mean, Appa? And…and…then I saw another ghost. The one who looked exactly like you described. Dark-skinned, wearing a soiled shirt…he pounced on the other ghost and started hitting him. He was very bad, hitting somebody is bad. Then, the fair ghost shot the dark one with a gun and dragged him somewhere. He was a bad ghost too. Killing somebody is very bad. Right, Appa?”
Mahesh wakes up with a sudden jerk and breathes heavily. When he takes the blanket off Janki, he finds her drowned in the pool of her own dried blood. Repenting couldn’t bring her back, shouting and crying wouldn’t either. Mahesh is left hopeless in despair and with no one to help him. Not even a ghost.
*curtains fall*
The watchers left the theatre heartbroken and sad. When the place was vacated, Narayan realized that he loved his daughter more than anything else, because her absence was strongly felt. She was never there. The depiction in all the plays had been a reflection of their life.
. . .
Pune: The Marathi theatre flourished in the post-independence period and comic dramas had come into fashion. Ganesh Kelkar asked himself, “Would my play be a laugh riot? Are the costumes perfect? Is the script well-chiselled? Pranav! Please check with the lights! I need no shortcomings.” He panicked of nervousness and his heart skipped as many beats as the Jagirdars and Deshmukhs walked into the auditorium.
ACT-1
Damodar: “Oh god, fetch me employment today! I swear to the neighbour’s god, I’ll bathe you in ‘ORIGINAL’ milk.”
Suraj: “Did you have English whiskey early in the morning? Where are you going to get this original milk from?”
Damodar: “Chill, brother. We get lots of it in the ORIGINAL DAIRY down the street. I’ll show the name on the packet to Deva.”
Suraj: “Nice, very nice. This is what father taught you, didn’t he? To cheat people all day long, Right?”
Damodar: “That’s how I am going to buy English whiskey at the price of ORIGINAL milk” (winks at him).
*scene change*
Mr. Birajdar: “Damodar Jagannath Bhonsale, how
long did your father work with us?”
Damodar: “For fourteen years, sahib. Fourteen long years.”
Mr. Birajdar: “Hmm…impressive. But, I cannot bestow his job upon you. You see, a person needs to serve us for fifteen years minimum so that his job can be transferred to his successor.”
Damodar: (Sad) “Where is this rule mentioned, sahib?”
Mr. Birajdar: “In the original rule list” (fancies a shrewd grin).
Damodar: (With a lit up face now) “would you please come home with me? I do have something to offer.”
*scene change*
Mr. Birajdar: (Heavily drunk) “Hmmm….Da..modar...Now I see two-two job vacancies. The whiskey was great! Best in class! See me in my office tomorrow morning…Here, take this money. Serve your god some milk.”
Damodar: “Certainly, sir!”
Suraj: “It seems you bought a whole job at the price of a whiskey!”
*curtains fall*
Ganesh saw his story and dream end in Mr. Kailash Rao’s play, as the audience left the hall awed by the play’s ORIGINAL script. All he could do was visit Rao’s theatre every day, sit by the door to listen to the jeer and claps awarded to the story he presented, to the lines he wrote, and which ended up in the other’s credit, who called it ORIGINAL. The laughable fact now was, that Ganesh couldn’t even walk down the street to fetch some milk. He had no legs anymore.
The curtain fell forever on the dreams and depiction.
-Sagher
Damodar: “For fourteen years, sahib. Fourteen long years.”
Mr. Birajdar: “Hmm…impressive. But, I cannot bestow his job upon you. You see, a person needs to serve us for fifteen years minimum so that his job can be transferred to his successor.”
Damodar: (Sad) “Where is this rule mentioned, sahib?”
Mr. Birajdar: “In the original rule list” (fancies a shrewd grin).
Damodar: (With a lit up face now) “would you please come home with me? I do have something to offer.”
*scene change*
Mr. Birajdar: (Heavily drunk) “Hmmm….Da..modar...Now I see two-two job vacancies. The whiskey was great! Best in class! See me in my office tomorrow morning…Here, take this money. Serve your god some milk.”
Damodar: “Certainly, sir!”
Suraj: “It seems you bought a whole job at the price of a whiskey!”
*curtains fall*
Ganesh saw his story and dream end in Mr. Kailash Rao’s play, as the audience left the hall awed by the play’s ORIGINAL script. All he could do was visit Rao’s theatre every day, sit by the door to listen to the jeer and claps awarded to the story he presented, to the lines he wrote, and which ended up in the other’s credit, who called it ORIGINAL. The laughable fact now was, that Ganesh couldn’t even walk down the street to fetch some milk. He had no legs anymore.
The curtain fell forever on the dreams and depiction.
-Sagher
