“The psycho of children”

“Much education today is monumentally ineffective. All too often we are giving young people cut flowers when we should be teaching them to grow their own plants.” – John W. Gardner

I have said this earlier – and would like to validate again – I am not a theatre person. This is a tag that has been given to me by others along with the much woolly label of being ‘multi-faceted’…whatever that means! Most expect me to break into a ‘song and dance’ on demand, whilst all I can do is to look at them and squirm with discomfort. Cursing them and then myself.

I have never thought of myself as a theatre person. I use theatre and drama as a medium of instruction – period!

So, what/who am I? At the risk of derisive sniggers, I would like to be known as a sensitizer and an educator. Who? What?

I would also like to be known as a wild-life person. What! Who?

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Padhāro Mārè Dès

“Feudalism, serfdom, slavery, all tyrannical institutions, are merely the most vigorous kind to rule, springing out of, and necessarily to, a bad state of man. The progress from these is the same in all cases — less government.” – Herbert Spenser

The State of Rajasthan with its spectacular forts and palaces stands out as the only place I know of where, barring a few, the members of the once ruling families are generally insufferable.

The princely states and the titles that went along with them were all abolished years ago, and a free independent India’s constitution – on paper – does not recognize feudalism.

However, I have always mulled over – have we, as a nation, ever been united and/or independent?

Blogging and who really gives a crap

“If I am what I have and if I lose what I have who then am I?”  – Erich Fromm

It was in July 2009 that I came across sacredfig and two guest-postings later, decided to become a reluctant blogger. After the initial Opening Thoughts and other self-absorbed flush-outs, I find that I am back to the Bunions and all and no longer enamoured with this course of action. Not that I have reached cerebral senility (though many assume and hope that I have)…it’s just so tediously devoid of any stimulus for me. I wonder how people do it every day – blog, that is.

Also, I don’t know what I can write – that may have any meaning or relevance for anybody. I wish I had the kind of comprehensibility that most people posses – making life so ‘tackleable’ with no grey tones; that there was a ‘greater good’ waiting to be served. A ‘greater good’ not marinated in the sauces of ‘vested interest’.

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Aal iz not necessarily well!

“A man’s mind may be likened to a garden, which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild; but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will bring forth. If no useful seeds are put into it, then an abundance of useless weed-seeds will fall therein, and will continue to produce their kind.” – James Allen

Last week I had an opportunity to once again saunter the corridors of the National School of Drama – from which in the late seventies – I had walked out after resigning my merit scholarship.

It was great to have met a senior whose work I admire and sorry to have missed my former room-mate. Of course, there were pompous personalities spouting philosophies as false as themselves.

Met teachers, actors, students and found that the intellectual malaise that ails our institutions still subsists. Essential questions for NSDians re the Theatre, the Arts and Education remained ambiguous or marginalised as the pursuit to stay ‘theatrically active’ consumed all thinking.

There was a time when my world and life was theatre and consequently everything and everybody involved with it became my family and education automatically established itself as an integral and valuable aspect of a situation that was on the threshold of becoming an accepted stereotype. In particular jeopardy was theatre for children and young people.

The TCF Debacle!

People have been asking me as to why I resigned from The Corbett Foundation (TCF)?

Some queries have been genuine; a small number laced with affectation; several embedded with the usual gloating maliciousness and more than a few comments validating my decision. Then, there have been requests for information and explanation from foreign nationals on the Cc list. Sadly, not one note of enquiry, till date, from those Indian men and women I had looked upon as worthy torch-bearers for the cause. Odd! Considering there are quite a few who on occasions have personally expressed their concerns about the very grounds that eventually prompted me to hand in my notice.

So, is a pack silently baying for my blood?

Anyway, it is not necessary to furnish all the reports that I submitted, except the following – excerpts from my last email to the Vice-Chairman (!) of The Corbett Foundation:

Opening Thoughts!

My journey in search of home in this country of mine has kept me living on the very edge of a fringe.

There are innumerable memories and images that constantly haunt me. Events, which for me, were so powerful and potent that I often found myself living in no-man’s land, where reality merged with fantasy, as a tool to block out the pain and noise. And, to remain sane in the midst of all insanity I unendingly moved into the forests and was ever so often prolific in keeping notes.

From the forests into the concrete jungle with its specialised networking animals, I have a transient need to share some of my thoughts – times of yore and on-going. For someone who still refuses to be part of the now customary social online-communities, the opening of this blog-space itself is a very uncomfortable feeling. Why am I doing this? Is it because the system is slowing down and moving towards an eventual shut-down and I want to – what? I question myself each time I decide to post something…and delay the posting! How long will I be able to maintain this exposition is a query that does not have an answer yet.

So where do I start from? Innumerable things have happened in my life that have been extremely turbulent – emotionally, physically, professionally and of course, financially.

Allow me to meander as it could be therapeutic. Not so for you, dear reader!

Over the years many intellectual types have asked me what I do and/or if I have a formula/secret that I use for my work. I have never been able to respond adequately and the questions have left me more perturbed. How to simplify and come back with something that would satisfy people, make them shut-up and spare me the anguish of constantly trying to make others understand and attempt to carve a personal space within the given Indian society. I didn’t really give a hoot then and don’t give a damn now! But, there were days when I wished I had a satisfactory social image of a ‘recognised and respected’ profession.

As someone who does not believe in the concept of God, I can’t even say, “It is God’s grace.” I guess I was born with a special sensitivity towards young people and I worked by instinctively tuning in to individual minds.  This particular linking process cannot be explained by me and the same progression has kept me actively involved with wildlife. Bunions of the mind! Check www.sacredfig.wordpress.com

My parents sent me to a school (Shiv Niketan), which was different from the other educational institutions. I thrived and that experience laid the foundation to what I am doing today. Unfortunately, aunty Gauba’s Shiv Niketan was not even a middle school then and I had to leave that haven and move to the so-called ‘normal’ schools. It was traumatic and I hated every living moment till my 12^th standard. On those occasions, when I bunked regular school and walked miles just to be able to stand weeping in front of Shiv Niketan, it was she who used to come down, cross the road and hold me.

I try, through my work, to give children and young people, the same positive inputs that Shiv Niketan gave me.

There are many pictures in my mind that haunt me and I try to come to terms with them through my work.

Random Picture #1. Watching a hungry child lick the dry vomit off the side of a bus.

Random Picture #2. Kachchh earthquake – not being able to dig any further to reach the buried person. Holding the delicate hand till life slipped away.

Random Picture #3. Spotting my first tiger at the age of six.

Random Picture #4. Being thrashed by a teacher for asking a question.

Random Picture #5. Parents of two different communities teaching their children how to make cement spike-balls to kill each other.

Random Picture #6. In the cold upper regions of Uttarakhand, just below the Nanda Devi Biosphere Reserve; peering into the shy and tearful eyes of Bhutia girls returning from PWD road repair work – their fingers and palms lacerated and bleeding.

Many years ago, when I started The Playhouse the idea was to give the young people of this country an opportunity to channelize their energies positively; to give them an environment of learning that was not threatening; an atmosphere where they had the courage to take their minds for a walk and ask questions; a place where they learned to respect each other; a comfort zone where they could think and relax; an interactive area where they learnt to apply a self-imposed discipline; a meeting ground of minds where they realised that aesthetics was a process of thinking; where they learnt about Freedom – that there was a condition to it. That to achieve freedom to do something they had to know what it was they wanted to achieve – a theme! A place where they came to terms with the concept that it took discipline to achieve freedom BUT also that discipline did not mean regimentation. It just happened to be the power over the mind.

The Playhouse nurtured the Intelligences of the young people because these were the individuals – boys and girls – who hopefully would bring about a change in our society. The tasks became tougher but we continued to look beyond the various rigid frames.

All this meant that there was never enough money to fill the household kitty and my idealism did not really impress the people who I thought cared. I found it difficult to explain to explain to them that

hoping to give
birth
before the feeling
died,
i conceived a still-born
idea and
kept it alive
by my soul’s
umbilical cord;
i painted
colours and fed
the foetus
phantasmal pictures
without frames or
borders,
so that the spirit
would soar and
in the
eventual sublimity
i shall merge
my breathing.

My work took me across Europe, Asia, parts of Africa and Australasia…and each time I returned to my country rejuvenated and with strength to continue. I travelled through the lands of India and worked with people of all ages. The process of learning took a greater dimension with wildlife and conservation issues running hand-in-hand with other concerns.

That is the way the cookie has been crumbling, ever since and today

Like an empty sponge

I move from

person to person

situation to situation,

absorbing

everything,

retaining nothing

for

I sense so much

but feel

no more.

My demon is private;

and as I slowly

empty out and exhibit the

skeletons, I

realize

from the stirring of a long

forgotten memory

that the cupboard

will soon be bare, and then

maybe I will

fill it again and tie

the demon with my tears,

so that I can

feel

again.