Art has the ability to hit directly at the heart. It can be more powerful than all the speeches and sloganeering because it is emotional.”
Poet-activist Tenzin Tsundue
Plays, films, sculptures, paintings, make us feel a greater connection with issues and stories because it impacts us emotionally. We sympathise with the characters, curves, colours. It makes us feel, not just think. All artistes put a great deal of what she/he wants to say in their work, and it is up to the audience to interpret it.
Most art, once created, is permanent. Only the interpretation varies. However, in theatre, the work changes night after night. This also allows a piece of theatre to constantly develop. Taking feedback from different audiences and honing the play to make it even stronger.
Recently, I was on a tour with a play called So Many Socks, performing in Bangalore, Delhi and even Dharamsala. At each performance, the audience was very different. Our first Delhi show, was for a festival, so the audience appreciated the work, the stylisation, the set. Bangalore saw a regular theatre audience that came to be entertained. They wanted an evening out and therefore, enjoyed different aspects of the play, like the unusual story and the movement. Then when we returned to Delhi as guests of the Foundation for Human Responsibility — a foundation run under the auspices of the Dalai Lama — a large part of the audience was made up of Tibetan sympathisers and also people from the Tibetan settlement of Majnu Ka Tilla. The performances carried with it an additional responsibility. We were now telling a story to an audience who were very close to the material. The palpable gasps at various points, was very humbling. So much so, that it stopped being “just another show”, and attained with it new gravitas.
This set us up for the next stop on our tour — Dharamsala. Mcleod Ganj to be more specific. It was easily the most idyllic setting for any play I have ever done. An open air basket ball court on the side of a mountain. The show began at dusk. And as evening fell, the stage lights began to take effect. The audience sat in the round, wrapped up in shawls. We had to battle the elements, not just the cold but also the honking from the street above, the kids playing on a jungle gym nearby and the hammering of carpentry work at a shop next door. Yet, the play was special. The context of the show was very fitting. We were telling a story set in Dharamsala, in Dharamsala. The issues of homelessness, rootlessness, and alienation have a far stronger resonance in Mcleod Ganj.
A particularly special moment was when we displayed the Tibetan national flag, the audience burst into spontaneous applause. So poignant was that moment that it changed the complexion of the scenes that followed. The context changed. The play changed. And in all likelihood it has changed forever.
We play in Bombay (KR Cama Auditorium) this Sunday for the final two performances of the run. We now return to the audience we first opened to; the people for whom the play was initially designed and created. It’s a far cry from the hillside in Dharamsala, but the shows will be even more special, because of the new perspectives and new context that the play has gained on its travels. How wonderful that after 20 performances, a play can still be as new as opening
night!