THE RHYMES AND TRYING TIMES OF JULY
July put us to the test.
First, simultaneous shows at two venues across the city.
Then an international tour that almost didn’t take off.
And then a weeklong trip down south that served up some bizarre and altogether new experiences.
But we got through it all and lived to tell the tale.
So here goes.
In rhyme.
Sort of.
JLT.
Getting public shows in Bombay is tricky business
Dates at affordable venues are hard to come by
So when NCPA offers us dates that clash with Prithvi
How can we give them up? We have to try!
Simultaneous set-ups in two corners of the city
Enough co-ordination to grey the darkest hair
So here I was putting up lamps and a deer head
While the lads were busy struggling with platforms there.
The shows went off well, and we moved on from there
To hours of packing and planning for an exciting trip abroad
But when you’re traveling to Muscat, getting a visa in time
Depends on the immigration department and on God
Visas were late, terror struck in the city, and traffic was mad
There was no way on earth we were making the flight
But Air India was super helpful, and we made it just in time
Only to be delayed since the pilot had suffered the same plight.
It was very hot in Oman, and the people were very warm
The food was great, and the actresses shopped in every mall
Some prudes said a couple of plays were ‘profane’ or ‘racy’
But the majority loved it, as was apparent in each curtain call
We came back for a few hours and left for Bangalore next
To perform in schools for children, which is always rather grand.
A good show in a forest, followed by a show with no sound
Which led to the ordeal of performing with cordless mics in hand.
The rest of the shows were solid and mostly uneventful,
The kids were happy, and there’s a chance we’ll be going back.
August seems to have some breathing space as of now
But a couple of new productions need to get back on track.
Didn’t see any plays this month, even missed What a Lota!
Also missed Memorandum and The Real Inspector Hound
Need to catch Falsafa, though I’ll miss Stories in a Song again
What on earth should I write about if I’m never around?