Sunday, September 05, 2010

Overheard on a Sunday Afternoon

“Are tickets available for ‘Gentlemen’? (in Kannada). “Yes, they are.” (Deliberately answered in English)
“Ok, thanks.”
“It’s in English, that all I know.” “Chalo, chalo…let’s eat at Anju’s first.”
“I will go home and take a bath and come there.” “Ok, we will call.”

They don’t take card. It is Rs 450. Cash is given then.
“No rice, only paranthas. And pasta.” “Let’s eat pasta with white sauce.”
“I want hot chocolate, I am (cough, cough) dying here.”

“Mohanlal used to be always up to it.”
“But doesn’t this happen to everyone? Performance anxiety?”
More anxieties. The young dude has them, so does the married, father of one barber who realizes there aren’t many things that Amitabh Bachchan doesn’t endorse.
There is also an old man thrown in, with ‘Koyi Lautade Mere Beethe Huye Din’ in the background.
Gorgeous dull red saree, a long strand of bloomed jasmine in the elegant mostly-grey hair. Sensuous woman.
The Bengaluru Kannada is just right. “Nodi saar….”
How can a woman not have the last word, even be it in the narcissist world of men obsessed with Mohanlal or whatever name they might want to go by? After all, in cricket, to bat, you need a ball too, don’t you?

In a long orange kurta, he was doing the unshaven, unkempt look. It wasn’t working, looking more like he just needed a wash instead. Short haired friend of his dragged out a cigarette and lit it. More of similar disposition joined in. One needed a haircut, very badly.
“Macha, it was nice in bits da, as a whole….”
“Dude, what are you saying, it was a good depiction of what most people have going on in their minds!”
“The script was…” “Oh, I believe it is called the ‘content’ these days, not the script, apparently.”
“Whatever man, gorgeous woman, that last bit was fantastic. The lighting though….”
All in Kannada. Middle aged men with bidi between fingers that are attached to big fat gold rings.
Yellind bandaure ivella?” (“Where are these from”?)
Ade, Shankar Nath adyeno katyavnalla, allinde natka nod bandirbeku.” (“Oh, that something that Shankar Nath built; these must have come from there.”)
“Shankar Nath? Who is he?”
Are, that Geetha film actor, Jotheyali, Jothe Jotheyali… song…”
“Oh, he was also in Autoraja alwa?”
“Ha, that one…”
“Ok, when will that man give the money? Call him”
Sari (ok), I will see you in the evening.”
The witness to this come to a corner of Anju’s and sips too milky coffee later.

(For most who will probably not get this, this is a not-review of the play ‘Gentlemen’ by Dr Anil Abraham, staged Sunday at Bangalore’s Rangashankara which was built in memory of late Kannada actor Shankar Nag. The conversations were all either heard, seen, spoken or overheard.)


Krishna said...

this is a book as well, right? the mohanlal and performance anxiety bit, is that from the play? can see that you didn't care much for it anyway :-)

Deepa Bhasthi said...

Hey Krishna! I am not sure about the book...the play was written by a St.John's Hospital doc.
But I loved the play...It was hilarious and well, on the dirty jokes side, so didn't write it in detail here.

As for the post, was just experimenting, that's all, it is not at all a review of the play.