Safety tips from Sector 52
Prologue:
This post has not been spell checked as I was on the clock with some dangerous Himalayan gangster types when I typed it. Should I survive my current entanglements rest assured it will be corrected presently.
C.
In my last post I mentioned a theatre performance by youth in Chandigarh, mostly Bahai youth, that had an other worldly quality. This impression was only increased with my most recent visit. The stage plays are as I mentioned religious and Hindu in nature. Many demigods and spiritual figures of history converse, combat, and unite in very garish gold and red costumes. But for the most part it must be said that the format is by design very dry and "wooden" most scenes of diolologue last two minutes, with characters orate to the audience standing cheek to cheek with the character they are supposedly addressing. The scenes of tragedy last and average of fifteens minutes with the dying figure careening slowly around the stage like a stumbling drunk, occasionally letting oput a noise to make it clear he is mortally wounded, the soon to be bereved family all stand stark still or at best sway left to right while making the approved crying sound which in practice sounds more like the laughter of a British dandy in the style of Bruce Campbell (I apologise if that's hard to picture but trust me, it's true).
Now, I make none of these obsertvations as citicisisms, the style is set and intended right down to the crying, and Indian audiences being as decerning as any on the planet find the plays as important and as tedious as you or I might. This is such a recognised fact that the plays are intersperced with mildly sexy dances, and standup baffoonery just to keep everyone sitting. There is however, once in a while, a treat within these labiorious pantomimes. This is when a Demon shows up. In the case of two nights ago it was a particular Great Aunt of the God Krishna who arrived to the dinner party with a bit of a chip on her shoulder. The gentleman playing this cantancerous inlaw was a man famous in town for breathing fire and being drunk. Suffice to say his arrival was much anticipated by the ever-shifting and unruly crowd. So when he actually showed up coming down the aisle toward the stage the whole audience came to their feet and a sort of standing riot esued as everyone tried to get a view.
When he appeared to we VIPs in the front row he had already expelled a few mouthfulls of kerosene through his torch and was reeling and gesturing in a manner that suggested the total focus of a true method actor. Unfortunatly his demonic rendition had caused him to ignore the physical pricipals involved with his open water bottle. It was very clear at this point that the fluid that was splooshing allover his chest and face was not water. They say that before terrible things happen onlookers and victims alike have a moment of crystal clarity as to what is about to happen. (thye might not say that but who are they to say I'm wrong, just work with me here) This happened to me. The thought occured not as a question but as statement "that guys is about to light himself on fire". And he did. His body which was naked from the chest up was covered in oil makeup and the area from his cheekbones down to his waist had by now recieved a healthy coverage of kerosene When his torch came down near his face for the next fireball, the fireball decided to go backwards. He was engulfed in flame and only realised it has men from the stage crew swarmed him and started whacking at him ineffectually. If they ever taught the elementary school "stop drop and roll" in Indian public schools these guys were not observing it. By the time they figured out that running and being on fire dont mix and managed to suffocate the flames with a blanket the actor was quite badly burned.
Insidently he took my Taxi to the hospital which was waiting for us so we had soime time to sit and reflect on the nights events. One thing I'll say for the universality of theatre "the show must go on" was never truer than in Sector 52 that night. After Krishna's aunt left in a huff, the show continued with only a machine gun toting police man to show any sign of emergency.
Never take Smokey the Bear for granted y'all, he's a godsend.
Cheers.
This post has not been spell checked as I was on the clock with some dangerous Himalayan gangster types when I typed it. Should I survive my current entanglements rest assured it will be corrected presently.
C.
In my last post I mentioned a theatre performance by youth in Chandigarh, mostly Bahai youth, that had an other worldly quality. This impression was only increased with my most recent visit. The stage plays are as I mentioned religious and Hindu in nature. Many demigods and spiritual figures of history converse, combat, and unite in very garish gold and red costumes. But for the most part it must be said that the format is by design very dry and "wooden" most scenes of diolologue last two minutes, with characters orate to the audience standing cheek to cheek with the character they are supposedly addressing. The scenes of tragedy last and average of fifteens minutes with the dying figure careening slowly around the stage like a stumbling drunk, occasionally letting oput a noise to make it clear he is mortally wounded, the soon to be bereved family all stand stark still or at best sway left to right while making the approved crying sound which in practice sounds more like the laughter of a British dandy in the style of Bruce Campbell (I apologise if that's hard to picture but trust me, it's true).
Now, I make none of these obsertvations as citicisisms, the style is set and intended right down to the crying, and Indian audiences being as decerning as any on the planet find the plays as important and as tedious as you or I might. This is such a recognised fact that the plays are intersperced with mildly sexy dances, and standup baffoonery just to keep everyone sitting. There is however, once in a while, a treat within these labiorious pantomimes. This is when a Demon shows up. In the case of two nights ago it was a particular Great Aunt of the God Krishna who arrived to the dinner party with a bit of a chip on her shoulder. The gentleman playing this cantancerous inlaw was a man famous in town for breathing fire and being drunk. Suffice to say his arrival was much anticipated by the ever-shifting and unruly crowd. So when he actually showed up coming down the aisle toward the stage the whole audience came to their feet and a sort of standing riot esued as everyone tried to get a view.
When he appeared to we VIPs in the front row he had already expelled a few mouthfulls of kerosene through his torch and was reeling and gesturing in a manner that suggested the total focus of a true method actor. Unfortunatly his demonic rendition had caused him to ignore the physical pricipals involved with his open water bottle. It was very clear at this point that the fluid that was splooshing allover his chest and face was not water. They say that before terrible things happen onlookers and victims alike have a moment of crystal clarity as to what is about to happen. (thye might not say that but who are they to say I'm wrong, just work with me here) This happened to me. The thought occured not as a question but as statement "that guys is about to light himself on fire". And he did. His body which was naked from the chest up was covered in oil makeup and the area from his cheekbones down to his waist had by now recieved a healthy coverage of kerosene When his torch came down near his face for the next fireball, the fireball decided to go backwards. He was engulfed in flame and only realised it has men from the stage crew swarmed him and started whacking at him ineffectually. If they ever taught the elementary school "stop drop and roll" in Indian public schools these guys were not observing it. By the time they figured out that running and being on fire dont mix and managed to suffocate the flames with a blanket the actor was quite badly burned.
Insidently he took my Taxi to the hospital which was waiting for us so we had soime time to sit and reflect on the nights events. One thing I'll say for the universality of theatre "the show must go on" was never truer than in Sector 52 that night. After Krishna's aunt left in a huff, the show continued with only a machine gun toting police man to show any sign of emergency.
Never take Smokey the Bear for granted y'all, he's a godsend.
Cheers.
posted by Chris and Nilu at 6:19 AM
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