URUnreserved
DIRECTOR'S NOTE
He is quiet and so am I.
He sips tea with lemon, while I drink coffee.
That's the difference between us.
Like me, he wears a wide, striped shirt,
and like him, I read the evening paper.
He doesn't see my secret glance.
I don't see his secret glance.
He's quiet and so am I.
He asks the waiter something.
I ask the waiter something…
A black cat walks between us.
I feel the midnight of its fur
and he feels the midnight of its fur…
I don't say to him: The sky today
is clear and blue.
He doesn't say to me: The sky today is clear.
He's watched and the one watching
and I'm watched and the one watching.
I move my left foot.
He moves his right foot.
I hum the melody of a song
and he hums the melody of a similar song.
I wonder: Is he the mirror in which I see myself?
And turn to look in his eyes…but I don't see him.
I hurry from the café.
I think: Maybe he's a killer…
or maybe a passer-by who thinks
I am a killer.
He's afraid…and so am I.
Mahmoud Darwish is a poet from Palestine.
Since you are still reading, allow me to point out a figment – the ‘director’ – there is none in this work, well, at least not in the way that the word is usually understood. This all-knowing, awe-inspiring creature, who is also a fountain of creativity. I am not sure if such a creature actually exists.
‘So why are you writing this note?’, you may be tempted to ask.
‘What better place than a “director’s note” to say that one is not the director’, I am tempted to say.
What better place, to begin a sub-version.
There are many efforts, in current times, to paint everything and everyone a single colour, establish – through relentless repetition – the single version. However, swimming below, are the many sub-versions, popping onto the surface of the single narrative as a quick reminder to those of us enamoured by it, that a ‘single version’ is a figment too. Unreserved is that bubble.
My role is to ensure that the bubble emerges, enlarges, assumes many colours and finally pops – allowing for the next bubble to emerge… in more practical words I am a respondent – someone who responds to the work from the location of a sub-version - or must I say, sub-versions? It is, thus, imperative, that I continuously seek out the sub-versions to the grander versions that exist, even in our own narratives. Upon recognising these sub-versions, my effort will be to excavate further, unravel the layers so that we can all see and draw from the multiplicity that exist within every single story.
Unreserved holds a special interest for me as it revolves around identity – my mother is a Malayali, and my father was a Tamilian. My formative years were spent in Kanpur (Uttar Pradesh) and now I live in Bangalore. I carry with me a dispersed sense of my own identity – happily slipping into and between the many. Not strangely, my work too has revolved around the same theme, sometimes even unwittingly so.
Another reason that excites me about this work is its ‘performative’ aspect, which has been at the core of my creative endeavours for some time. My own artistic journey influenced by the ‘performative’ in everyday life. A gesture, a glance, a posture… all of it happening, all the time, and all around us - unencumbered by the usual notions of actors, audiences and other aspects generally associated with performance. In Unreserved, I intend to deepen my engagement with the performative, which - I am still discovering - not only makes theatre more shareable, but also keeps it responsive and fluid… in other words, alive.
The third attraction is that the work will be placed directly amid people. Unlike the darkened auditorium where the audience gets hidden, here it is the work that will be submerged, concealed – playing out in bits of rehearsed lines, and pieces of on-the-spot improvisations that are, again, not an attempt to display an actor’s virtuosity, but merely an effort to imaginatively begin and move a conversation forward.
These conversations with our fellow travellers is the soul of Unreserved and they will, eventually, take the shape of performative pieces, visual and aural installations, narrowcasts – at a more tangible level, and in the sub-versions they will turn into memories, hunches, re-tellings...
A bubble bursting may not always be a bad thing – ask any child.
He sips tea with lemon, while I drink coffee.
That's the difference between us.
Like me, he wears a wide, striped shirt,
and like him, I read the evening paper.
He doesn't see my secret glance.
I don't see his secret glance.
He's quiet and so am I.
He asks the waiter something.
I ask the waiter something…
A black cat walks between us.
I feel the midnight of its fur
and he feels the midnight of its fur…
I don't say to him: The sky today
is clear and blue.
He doesn't say to me: The sky today is clear.
He's watched and the one watching
and I'm watched and the one watching.
I move my left foot.
He moves his right foot.
I hum the melody of a song
and he hums the melody of a similar song.
I wonder: Is he the mirror in which I see myself?
And turn to look in his eyes…but I don't see him.
I hurry from the café.
I think: Maybe he's a killer…
or maybe a passer-by who thinks
I am a killer.
He's afraid…and so am I.
Mahmoud Darwish is a poet from Palestine.
Since you are still reading, allow me to point out a figment – the ‘director’ – there is none in this work, well, at least not in the way that the word is usually understood. This all-knowing, awe-inspiring creature, who is also a fountain of creativity. I am not sure if such a creature actually exists.
‘So why are you writing this note?’, you may be tempted to ask.
‘What better place than a “director’s note” to say that one is not the director’, I am tempted to say.
What better place, to begin a sub-version.
There are many efforts, in current times, to paint everything and everyone a single colour, establish – through relentless repetition – the single version. However, swimming below, are the many sub-versions, popping onto the surface of the single narrative as a quick reminder to those of us enamoured by it, that a ‘single version’ is a figment too. Unreserved is that bubble.
My role is to ensure that the bubble emerges, enlarges, assumes many colours and finally pops – allowing for the next bubble to emerge… in more practical words I am a respondent – someone who responds to the work from the location of a sub-version - or must I say, sub-versions? It is, thus, imperative, that I continuously seek out the sub-versions to the grander versions that exist, even in our own narratives. Upon recognising these sub-versions, my effort will be to excavate further, unravel the layers so that we can all see and draw from the multiplicity that exist within every single story.
Unreserved holds a special interest for me as it revolves around identity – my mother is a Malayali, and my father was a Tamilian. My formative years were spent in Kanpur (Uttar Pradesh) and now I live in Bangalore. I carry with me a dispersed sense of my own identity – happily slipping into and between the many. Not strangely, my work too has revolved around the same theme, sometimes even unwittingly so.
Another reason that excites me about this work is its ‘performative’ aspect, which has been at the core of my creative endeavours for some time. My own artistic journey influenced by the ‘performative’ in everyday life. A gesture, a glance, a posture… all of it happening, all the time, and all around us - unencumbered by the usual notions of actors, audiences and other aspects generally associated with performance. In Unreserved, I intend to deepen my engagement with the performative, which - I am still discovering - not only makes theatre more shareable, but also keeps it responsive and fluid… in other words, alive.
The third attraction is that the work will be placed directly amid people. Unlike the darkened auditorium where the audience gets hidden, here it is the work that will be submerged, concealed – playing out in bits of rehearsed lines, and pieces of on-the-spot improvisations that are, again, not an attempt to display an actor’s virtuosity, but merely an effort to imaginatively begin and move a conversation forward.
These conversations with our fellow travellers is the soul of Unreserved and they will, eventually, take the shape of performative pieces, visual and aural installations, narrowcasts – at a more tangible level, and in the sub-versions they will turn into memories, hunches, re-tellings...
A bubble bursting may not always be a bad thing – ask any child.