Dramatizing Bangalore’s Social Landscape: Vijay Padaki’s Theatrical Reflections
All our lives, however ordinary or otherwise, are imbued with a sense of drama. But it takes a certain kind of eye to observe the humdrum and distill it to a riveting, stage-worthy performance. Vijay Padaki, the master spirit behind Bangalore Little Theatre (BLT), has been one such astute observer and theatre practitioner, who has sliced Bangalore/Bengaluru everydays. With a trademark humor punctuating his writing and performances.
Reading his city-centered plays today evokes wistful sighs for times that have been long relinquished, though traces of ‘thens’ seep into our ‘nows’. What’s fascinating in all this is not just how much has changed, but also how much hasn’t. Human motivations, the deep anxieties and desires that cut across class, gender and sects haven’t morphed as speedily as the Bangalore metro or the glittering T2 airport terminal.
Parental Playbooks to Crack Admissions
Take the play titled “Head Start”, set in the early ‘90s, which shifts between two families. One has a mother with two small kids and her lady friend. The husband or father is tellingly absent from all these school and home scenes. In the other, a young engineering student (RAMKI) dreams of heading to the U.S. for an MBA, while contending with the jitters of conservative parents.
Our nation has always been education obsessed. Parental angst about getting kids into the “right” school leads to the MOTHER coaching her little SON while shepherding him through a queue to meet the Principal. She has the kid reciting colour names, till they finally reach the formidable Principal’s office, where the tot is greeted with a casual “What is your name?” He spits out his nervous, much-rehearsed answer: “Orange.” The Principal doesn’t even pause to laugh. He ushers the next candidate in with a peremptory “Next.”
The same MOTHER ushers her primary-school DAUGHTER through a similar, nerve-racking line. All along, she chats with a friend and companion. Then she falls into a parental misstep that many might relate to. As she’s coaching the DAUGHTER to sing a song, she compares her to the SON. Turning to the FRIEND, she says: “Itna samaj dhar hai woh. Learns so quickly. He listens, you see.” If there’s one parental comment the DAUGHTER absorbs, it might be this.
Faulty Marks & Broken Systems
Summoned to the PRINCIPAL’s office for a review of her SON’s performance, the MOTHER is shocked to learn that he has a learning disability. And needs specialized help. Yet, when the PRINCIPAL reels out her SON’s faulty answers, it’s clear that the system is flawed. Tiresome expectations of rote answers award the sparkly SON low marks for responses that stymie the PRINCIPAL. Though progressive schools and boards might have transcended the verbatim answers of earlier eras, “rote learning” still features on recent articles that characterize Indian education at large.
There are also signs of increasing consumerization as parents are compelled to buy more and more things from the school store – which as the MOTHER puts it are often of inferior quality, but branded. But predictably subject to rapid wear-and-tear requiring annual replacements of everything: school bags, lunch boxes, water bottles, sweaters and so on.
Culture Clashes & Dhoti Dilemmas
In the other family, RAMKI is, like many young adults today, consumed by his own body. Unlike Gen Zs however, he doesn’t take selfies, but preens before a mirror, as he imagines moving to the U.S. He already thinks his physique is too exquisite to languish on homegrown women: ““Whatta goddamn waste on local chicks.”
That evening, however, he plans to head to a Pandit Jasraj concert, without knowing he’s a vocalist even. In a conversation with his APPA, he declares that the maestro is a sitar player, revealing the divide between generations. RAMKI constantly tunes into Western pop songs on his 2-in-1. Of course, the late 80s/early 90s adulation of Western culture has probably faded to a large extent, with folks choosing to inhabit medleys of local and global cultures refracted through the internet.
But headed as he is to an Indian concert, RAMKI tries to don a dhoti, with APPA instructing him every now and then, about pleats and tucks. APPA thinks it’s some girl who’s drawing him into this uncharacteristic concert: “what is this mysterious force that reduces a full-grown son of mine to a confused heap…”
Generational Tensions: Degree vs Destiny
Parental anxieties seem relatively tepid, compared with the ballooning concerns of the social media age: APPA worries about RAMKI’s future plans after he finishes engineering. AMMA contends that he’s too busy at college. APPA thinks he’s loafing about town with his gang and motorbike. APPA says that when he was RAMKI’s age, he had to struggle to adopt English mannerisms – like wear a tie, use cutlery. “At heart, I was all thairsatham and little else.” But RAMKI “has to try so hard to be Indian, to appear Indian.”
The play also dwells on the pathos of older generations. APPA’s not being promoted in the office though he’s been in charge for almost three years because he doesn’t have an MBA, doesn’t have a degree even. He’s capable but that doesn’t count. He’s understandably anxious that his own son should rack up degrees. One notices how education lifts new generations while diminishing earlier ones, even if they have requisite skills. Moreover, APPA radiates a quality that might be hard to find among flighty youngsters: loyalty. As AMMA puts it, “The Company has been your life…”
RAMKI applies surreptitiously to American universities. He’s unsure if his parents will permit his foray abroad. But he can’t wait to land on foreign shores, to the place that generates all those cool songs. Eventually, he receives an acceptance letter from Northwestern. His parents abide with his admission, but they also want to get him married.
When RAMKI resists their attempts, APPA casually mentions a “case” from Houston, Texas. An Indian American girl who’s rooted in Indian culture, a Bharatnatyam dancer who’s keen on an Indian boy. RAMKI’s agog. Later, when APPA dismisses the case because of the girl’s bad nakshatram, RAMKI rebukes the pervasiveness of irrational traditions.
In a final scene, a happily-married, moony-eyed RAMKI dispatches letters from an America resplendent in its fall colors.
Echoes of Neel Bagh: Rethinking Education
While producing this play, the writers and actors recalled the seminal contributions of David Horsburgh – a British educator who created the inspiring Neel Bagh school in Karnataka, where rural kids from impoverished families were exposed to a wide-ranging and imaginative curriculum that included physical activities, arts, crafts and Indian languages. We need a similar take on our contemporary education landscape to provoke questions and disconcert viewers. As the doyen, Padaki himself puts it in an interview, “The plays are like case studies, fictionalised, but mirroring social realities.”
References:
Vijay Padaki (Series Editor), “Head Start”, Salt Licks and Other Plays, Vitasta Publishing Pvt Ltd, New Delhi.