Surge now and again

A sufferer of emotion
a fluid surge
yearning for an escape
a churn
that rides up
along the tail

vent, emptied
I lie hollow
left alone
only to pick
pieces of a wreck

no I can’t move
away from the
fiery shore
a wreath bountiful
tied to my being


One on one

one on one
A string of monologues, weaving a perception of the India in its power centres (Delhi, Mumbai) over the last decade. If one keeps up with the newspapers, the stories are all known. The voices are all too familiar of the usual folks on the news channel, the workplace, the road, around you. The stage light up in a flourish in the beginning with the act of the usual Indian babu, and the slain bodyguard, both performances promising an interesting run to the familiar stuff. But the tempo doesn’t continue through the end. The wit keeps you occupied but you leave the theatre with a feeling of a few laughs and the ‘same old cribbing’ done in the same old verbose way those chatterboxes near you or as the hyperbole news reporters on television do.

Have to mention the act of the street pole commenting on the vagaries of city life, created by the powers that be. Rajit Kapur’s unbearable flight food act was a tad over the top, funny nevertheless.

This not quite the ‘Love Letters’ from the same production house. I would love to have that one staged again.

– review for the play ‘One on One’
Play by Rage Productions (Mumbai).

Directed by: Akarsh Khurana, Kunaal Roy Kapoor, Nadir Khan, Rahul Da Cunha, and Rajit Kapur.
Playwright: Anuvab Pal, Ashok Mishra, Farhad Sorabjee, Oliver Beale, Purva Naresh & Rahul Da Cunha.

Cast: Akarsh Khurana / Amit Mistry / Anand Tiwari / Anu Menon / Imran Adil / Neil Bhoopalam / Preetika Chawla / Rajit Kapur.
staged Dec 18, 2010 at Ravindra Bharthi, Hyderabad.

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Taramandal – Finding your own direction amongst the push and pull of others

A scene from Taramandal

'The casting interview', A scene from Taramandal

An award-winning playwright swells expectations. Taramandal, nevertheless entices with its immensely orignal characters, which connect to anyone chasing an elusive dream; or is in different stages of giving up or coping with the vision. A melange of opulent story lines along the centrepiece around Patol-da, the part that enthralls; about the actor being like a vegetable hawker, is to be simply prepared to sell his wares and can do nothing much beyond shouting out aloud what she’s got to offer, and wait. The stage came alive with the skillful performances, impeccable lighting, music and neat stage management by the performers; all made for a riveting theatre treat.

-Review for the play ‘Taramandal’ by ‘Tadpole Repertory’ staged Dec 16, 2010 at Ravindra Bharthi, Hyderabad

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Surging Verve

Was a cool stream
meandering on my happy way
pulled back in a pan
Boiled burned changed
to steam,
to steam again?
Did I cross this bend before?
Maybe not,
Bends are always curvy
Hard and pretty
the same way
Bustle on,
Making my way..

a steady pier

Be sought for
not feigned by beg instead

Command the charge
not for forced on, scampered

Dither, owned askance
not belonged herewith

Enduringly be cherished
not tied entwined

Fastened to belief
no shadows hanging

Ground steadfast pier,
stride afoot from

A thing of beauty

Getting back from sickness, I ve had a long lazy time in the bed for the last four days. Yearning to be on my feet again, I jump to the table with my laptop, reading the numerous feeds queued up in my content aggregator. And then in a glimpse, lying on the black and glass desktop monitor I noticed a white speck move.

Nearly dismissing to be my sick tired eye’s illusion, right there as before, I see it again, better, a bright white blob with fine white eight legs.

Before I could absorb its white striking beauty, it hopped onto to the matte black cabinet. To make its visual opulence even more surreal against contrasting backdrop, akin to a diva on a red carpet, capturing attention. There it landed, leaving behind a glistening silken thread working past the edge of the box.

Enraptured I got up, grabbed a colorful supplement from the Sunday newspaper – thumped it on the edge of the cabinet. Scooped whatever was underneath, and, the crushed ball of paper and all was in the garbage bin in no time.