When yesterday, Sarangi enacted a scene where she cried her heart out, everyone watched in amazement. I cannot deny a heavy-hearted feeling that I dealt with then, and even a few moments after; when her wails seemed to linger on.
We were sitting in a garden at Matunga, 5 of us. It was my first introduction to serious theatre genre. With only humour as a theme to act upon, I had always been on the lighter side of theatre. Even during college days my contribution to serious, glum, intense and non-humourous theatre was only limited to applauding as an audience.
The one thing that I learnt yesterday was that both humour and non-humour enactments were only ways of channeling our thoughts through a medium. The initial ‘hesitant me’ was soon taken over by an ‘involved me’. Soon I became the character and my dialogues became a way of my life for those 3 hours.
I still believe in the importance of ‘element of humour’ (because I’m a tough nut to crack) but how much I appreciate those intense moments when the chirping birds, the rustling leaves, the lovers sitting arms-in-arms, the begging young lads and the four of us stood silent momenatrily as all things came to a halt.
Yes, Sarangi was too good as she lay crying in the lap of serious theatre.
