Theatre and Travel in Austria

Thankfully my play is second in the lineup and I can stop cringing at my words, many of which I would change, and enjoy the rest of the plays. While I had read the text of all 50 plays when they were put together as a collection, seeing them being performed is impactful. After a point, I forget that the words were written to be narrated. They turn into a plea by the bright-eyed actors of tomorrow and their meaning gets compounded manifold. For the rest of the story, do click on the link below... https://frontline.thehindu.com/arts-and-culture/reimagining-performance-spaces/article65523238.ece

Panel discussions give me the heebie-jeebies. First, there is the pressure of sounding intellectual. Not intelligent. Intellectual. To sound intellectual, one’s conversations must be peppered with a fair quantity of textbook words, words which no regular person would use in daily parlance. Yes, parlance is one such word. I could have just said speech right? Then there is the fact that panel discussions happen generally in well-lit halls and not darkened auditoriums, which means you can see the audience. And, clearly read their expressions. Was that a smile or a smirk? Was that yawn a response to my gabbing? Is he laughing with me or at me? And, of course, if you are camera shy like I am, the cameraman darting around for candid shots does not make it easy to focus. And with my luck, he is almost certain to click me mid-speech which will make me look like a yawning baboon. To read the rest of my blog, click here https://frontline.thehindu.com/arts-and-culture/the-playwrights-...

... On the walk back to my hotel, I consider this point about limiting words. As an editor, my work is all about economy of words and eliminating the superfluous. But, it is also about adding the necessary. The decision is mine, and therein lies the power. What words would I have used today if I had to confine to a stipulated number? Would I have been misunderstood or better understood? Thankfully, the day is coming to an end and a two-word ‘Good Night’ to the concierge is all I need to utter. For the rest of the post, read... https://frontline.thehindu.com/arts-and-culture/words-and-their-limits/article65514105.ece

It is well past 10 p.m. when I walk back to the hotel, but the long summer days are here which means it is more like twilight. A faint moon is visible in the darkening blue and the stars are not quite out yet. The body is exhausted by the traipsing around on the cobblestoned street, a new sensation for my unused-to-walking-around-Mumbai feet. But the mind is exploding, and that powers me through to my waiting bed. To read the rest of the story, click on the link below and create your free account.  https://frontline.thehindu.com/arts-and-culture/graz-theatre-festival-theatre-across-borders/article65510265.ece

... As I turn a corner, I come face to face with the building that houses the Schauspielhaus Graz. Characterised by neo-classical elements, the theatre takes up one length of the square. Fluttering yellow banners announce the festival. A quick tour with Karla reveals the main opera-house style space, two other auditoriums, rooms for meetings and workshops and offices. Other names from the email correspondence over the last few months materialise in their physical forms for a quick hello before hurrying back to the pending to-dos. Trolleys with costumes are being rolled through corridors. Lights being positioned. Last few nails being hammered into the sets. The language is alien to my ears but the buzz is all too familiar and I realise it is best to take myself out of their hair. ... To read the rest of the story, click on the link below and create your free account.  https://frontline.thehindu.com/arts-and-culture/climate-change-playwrights-and-their-lonely-lives/articl...

Two years ago, in March 2020, I had to cancel a to-the-tee-planned holiday to Cambodia and Vietnam. Because, stupid Covid. And then 6 months ago I cancelled birthday-gift-to-myself holiday to Pondicherry. Because, second wave of stupid Covid. I was in isolation for CoVid in February, when the email from Schauspielhaus Graz had appeared in my inbox. It was about their annual international theatre festival in June. They wanted permission to perform my play. Yay, I did a jig. And they wanted to host me atvthe festival. I stopped mid-jig. No way! The virus was probably affecting my eyes and the isolation had taken over my mind. I sent a snapshot of the email to my brother with a message - Am I reading this right?  Whoa, he pinged back. For once I was glad he is a man of few words, I don't think I could have processed more. I allowed myself another little dance before memories of cancelled bookings of last two years hit the stop button on the music in my head. Don't believe it till ...