The State Drama Festival commenced several days ago and is held, as usual, at John De Silva Theater from 6.30 PM onwards these days. After much waiting, Lady Grouchalot managed to drag along a rather reluctant Darling (in his defense, who became very much interested afterwards) as well and headed there to indulge in a few mighty doses of live and pulsing theater after a while.
The very first day that it was announced that the State Drama Festival was going to be held at the John de Silva as usual, the very first question the Lady had in mind was, what ever happened to that colossal 'Lotus pond' of ours which inaugerated itself with a flash, kaboom and a humongous bang a couple of weeks earlier?
Lady Grouchalot who had always been an ardent fan of the theater had always been rather saddened by the everyday tragedies that the dramatists and playwrights of the country go through just to get a play on stage and keep it running. She had seen how crestfallen artists become at seeing the measely turn up in theaters whereas the majority of the public would sit at home, slobbering all over the powder puff soap opera starlets flashing their absurdly made up faces almost offensively laden with layers and layers of make up ( enough to make Marilyn Manson cringe ), wondering what outrageously bold move these whimsy puppets of bubble villa would make next (OMG, Paba has constipation! What will she do next?? Will Shehan leave her because she's farts too much??? Subha broke a goddamned nail while running away with Jatila, escaping from Chamara who has been carrying on with Sujatha who has had far too much to drink last night and had made out with Jatila's grandfather, etc, etc..... ) . Therefore, the Lady was overjoyed when she first heard the commencement of building an international standardized theater right here at the heart of Colombo and looked forward to an illuminated future for the talent laden theater folk of the country who have showcased so much of potential and yet, no means of unleashing it out of sheer lack of facilities resulting from the unsightly stepmother treatment of the authorities towards the venerable theater that has been around ever since the beginning of civilization itself. However, the Lady's hopes had been shattered rather cold heartedly. Seeing the almost obscenely priced venue charges that was published just a while ago, I wonder how many people burst out laughing out of sheer disbelief.
So....the 'Nelum Pokuna' unsheathed its petals (btw, I find the name to be quite hilarious) and lends itself to the able and the partial while the poor dramatists strive to do their best, making do with what they've got in the dilapidated dressing rooms with broken taps and non-moving ceiling fans. However, the ever loyal theater fan would not mind flicking a few beads of sweat while watching a true piece of art that has been worked over and over again over cups of plain tea and shared tea buns.
Nelum Pokuna will feature foreign artists who are forced a microphone in to their hands to "sing a song" while in transit here in Sri Lanka *smirk* while local talent rots away in corners, portraying the tragedy of a nation that venerates hip-hop wanna-be Iraj-ists as the ultimate ambassadors of Sri Lankan music. We already have plenty of places to hold mass scale musical shows featuring the Supersunshiney gang and the ra (s)pping dimwits who are not even capable of properly lip syncing to prerecorded music, don't we? How about we give the good ol genuine theater that has been abandoned for a significant amount of time a chance for a change?
The ordinary artist is not a millionaire (Well, at least not the ones that havn't yet succumbed to the shitacious politics cloud that hangs upon our heads anyway). Therefore, one wouldn't just happen to have 3-5 lacks lying around to spend on outrageously priced venues and the ordinary theater goer wouldn't just happen to have thousands of rupees lying around to attend these shows of which the tickets would have to be priced around Rs 5000-1000 just to cover the venue cost.
However, the State Drama Festival is going very well, without Lotus ponds for the artists to swim in, I dare say. At the end of the show, the crowd trickled out one by one out of the non-air conditioned hall on to a yard illuminated by the glaring lights of the Nelum pokuna which loomed imperiously overhead. And yet, still dazed by the amazing show of talent which dazzled inside that non-air conditioned theater of the ordinary people, I don't think the people even noticed the condescending glare of the Nelum Pokuna which loomed over all of us in the horizon, begging for attention and a genuine doze of the 'real' art to get it up and revving, pulsing with life.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
Weekend!!!
Don't you just LOVE that indescribable feeling of freedom that you experience at the end of a working week? It's like the weekend just stretches right ahead of you and you are under no obligation to work. You can just stretch your limbs and be a lazy ass couch potato without feeling an iota of guilt about it and its just SUCH a fabulous feeling. I'm feelin' the weekend baby!
Work can be quite tiring. You just sit there, starring at the computer screen as if the fate of the human race depended on it, eyes aching, brain twisting to all kinds of pretzel shapes as you analyze one foreign subject (which you have perhaps never heard before) after another, rephrasing, rewriting, twisting, churning, fabricating words, phrases and whole effing sentences, head throbbing, anxious to finish it all off............. At the end of the day, after you have completed your work and you're just heaving that long awaited sigh of relief, if somebody just comes along and screams at you for not doing this, not looking in to that (things that were the last things on your overtly overcrowded mind actually), not even giving the shadow of a thought to how incredibly tired you might be, you just end up feeling sad. Really, really sad.
Not complaining about work actually, I quite enjoy writing. Anyhow, the week is done and the Lady is feeling less Grouchy because the weekend is back baby! After lying on my butt for a whole 4 years at university, working for a living feels quite strange. Specially since I've always been a lazy bum for as long as I can remember :D
Its 3.56 AM and I still don't want to sleep. The weekend feels too precious to waste away sleeping and my brain tells me to savor every second of it while it lasts. And sleeping is just not a part of this super bonanza of freedom. Strange.
Should get a couple of winks now or else I'l be snoozing till my butt shines in all its glory in the full blast of the noon sun. Have some errands to run tomorrow as well. Sigh............There ain't no rest for the wicked, some wise man (men) have once said. I know, I do realize that I've been abandoning the Grouch blog and my poetry lately, but then, c'est la vie. Sigh...................So much to write, so little time :(
Work can be quite tiring. You just sit there, starring at the computer screen as if the fate of the human race depended on it, eyes aching, brain twisting to all kinds of pretzel shapes as you analyze one foreign subject (which you have perhaps never heard before) after another, rephrasing, rewriting, twisting, churning, fabricating words, phrases and whole effing sentences, head throbbing, anxious to finish it all off............. At the end of the day, after you have completed your work and you're just heaving that long awaited sigh of relief, if somebody just comes along and screams at you for not doing this, not looking in to that (things that were the last things on your overtly overcrowded mind actually), not even giving the shadow of a thought to how incredibly tired you might be, you just end up feeling sad. Really, really sad.
Not complaining about work actually, I quite enjoy writing. Anyhow, the week is done and the Lady is feeling less Grouchy because the weekend is back baby! After lying on my butt for a whole 4 years at university, working for a living feels quite strange. Specially since I've always been a lazy bum for as long as I can remember :D
Its 3.56 AM and I still don't want to sleep. The weekend feels too precious to waste away sleeping and my brain tells me to savor every second of it while it lasts. And sleeping is just not a part of this super bonanza of freedom. Strange.
Should get a couple of winks now or else I'l be snoozing till my butt shines in all its glory in the full blast of the noon sun. Have some errands to run tomorrow as well. Sigh............There ain't no rest for the wicked, some wise man (men) have once said. I know, I do realize that I've been abandoning the Grouch blog and my poetry lately, but then, c'est la vie. Sigh...................So much to write, so little time :(
Monday, January 2, 2012
This, that and everything
This is a long over due post and I'm putting it down today. Do I dare type away when I have million other things piling up on that horrendous to-do list of mine? Yes, I dooooooooo!!
Anyways, walking down the streets in my neighborhood can be quite an experience. You'd think that half the male population in the country have never seen the likes of a woman before. And you'd think that the situation might improve in a while and that a better day would dawn tomorrow when a woman may walk down a street without being hindered by gaping men, stalking cars and flashing nitwits with minuscule weenies.
But no, it doesn't.
Women are to be the quiet and submissive type who should NOT, under any circumstance, speak unless spoken to and should not under any circumstance, speak out even if one is being screamed at on daily basis. If she has a complaint, the woman is supposed to put it across in such a way that it would not enrage others, more specifically, not enrage the men. And if a certain woman does not fit in to that meek little, controllable category, she is 'un-womaned' by those around her, branded, called names and cast aside. The sacred femininity that maketh a woman is taken away bit by bit, ounce by ounce until you are left a sexless stick without an identity, feeling like a sugar cane that has been well chewed and spat back out. Apparently, rebelling, speaking out and arguing is a macho thing to which the men folk have exclusive rights to. The women have to bear up with everything and also, apparently, patience is a virtue that is exclusively reserved for the women folk to practice. That's what our elders have always taught us, as little girls, as young women stepping in to adulthood. People just have this tendency to like tame animals I suppose. In an age of instant, two minute noodles, we are the kind of people who prefer visiting the zoo rather than taking the risk of going out in to the jungle to see. Tame animals are more easier to manage and thereby, more convenient to have around. But doesn't it get boring at times? I do wonder sometimes.
Which is exactly why the spineless pervs in buses, streets and markets have their own convivial ball of a time harassing women in public. Confront them and you would see them wriggling back to their perspective dirt holes after a lame comeback or two. Sigh........ there really is no sexual discrimination going on in the world, only discrimination against those who dare speak out against things that just don't seem right. But of course, in a world like ours, in order to keep one's head safe upon one's shoulders, its wise to act dumb, deaf and blind at all times. Diplomacy, my friend, is everything these days. But then again, even diplomacy isn't shield enough to protect one from speeding bullets fired off of a drunkard's gun. Sigh.....pathetic.
I remember using my fingers to count when I was small and I'd get quite confused after passing fifteen or so and often wished that I had about hundred fingers which would help me count without getting confused. Well, apparently, some ex-Commissioners General of exams still use their fingers to solve sums and sometimes, even to calculate the Z-scores of A/L students! I had NO idea! :O Well, the whole process didn't really work out and whole country blames the poor guy for effing up the whole lot but me, knowing how difficult it is to count with one's fingers, would blame the makings of the human body for not giving us enough fingers to count with. Sigh...............if only he had hundred fingers to count with, he wouldn't have gotten so confused. But such...............is life...................
Me hungry now after all the rambling, complaining, grouching around. Midnight snack anyone? Yes, ma'am! :D
Anyways, walking down the streets in my neighborhood can be quite an experience. You'd think that half the male population in the country have never seen the likes of a woman before. And you'd think that the situation might improve in a while and that a better day would dawn tomorrow when a woman may walk down a street without being hindered by gaping men, stalking cars and flashing nitwits with minuscule weenies.
But no, it doesn't.
Women are to be the quiet and submissive type who should NOT, under any circumstance, speak unless spoken to and should not under any circumstance, speak out even if one is being screamed at on daily basis. If she has a complaint, the woman is supposed to put it across in such a way that it would not enrage others, more specifically, not enrage the men. And if a certain woman does not fit in to that meek little, controllable category, she is 'un-womaned' by those around her, branded, called names and cast aside. The sacred femininity that maketh a woman is taken away bit by bit, ounce by ounce until you are left a sexless stick without an identity, feeling like a sugar cane that has been well chewed and spat back out. Apparently, rebelling, speaking out and arguing is a macho thing to which the men folk have exclusive rights to. The women have to bear up with everything and also, apparently, patience is a virtue that is exclusively reserved for the women folk to practice. That's what our elders have always taught us, as little girls, as young women stepping in to adulthood. People just have this tendency to like tame animals I suppose. In an age of instant, two minute noodles, we are the kind of people who prefer visiting the zoo rather than taking the risk of going out in to the jungle to see. Tame animals are more easier to manage and thereby, more convenient to have around. But doesn't it get boring at times? I do wonder sometimes.
Which is exactly why the spineless pervs in buses, streets and markets have their own convivial ball of a time harassing women in public. Confront them and you would see them wriggling back to their perspective dirt holes after a lame comeback or two. Sigh........ there really is no sexual discrimination going on in the world, only discrimination against those who dare speak out against things that just don't seem right. But of course, in a world like ours, in order to keep one's head safe upon one's shoulders, its wise to act dumb, deaf and blind at all times. Diplomacy, my friend, is everything these days. But then again, even diplomacy isn't shield enough to protect one from speeding bullets fired off of a drunkard's gun. Sigh.....pathetic.
I remember using my fingers to count when I was small and I'd get quite confused after passing fifteen or so and often wished that I had about hundred fingers which would help me count without getting confused. Well, apparently, some ex-Commissioners General of exams still use their fingers to solve sums and sometimes, even to calculate the Z-scores of A/L students! I had NO idea! :O Well, the whole process didn't really work out and whole country blames the poor guy for effing up the whole lot but me, knowing how difficult it is to count with one's fingers, would blame the makings of the human body for not giving us enough fingers to count with. Sigh...............if only he had hundred fingers to count with, he wouldn't have gotten so confused. But such...............is life...................
Me hungry now after all the rambling, complaining, grouching around. Midnight snack anyone? Yes, ma'am! :D
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