I took a walk around the lawn to appreciate the buildings and the habitat. Tall residential buildings were towering in the background. This area was reclaimed from the sea in the '60s. A tall embankment wall protected the land from the sea. A wide pedestrian path stretched for miles along the sea. Arabian Sea could possibly get very rough in the monsoons, but there has been no news of erosion. The engineering and design looked solid and decent. Back at the hall, I noticed our dance teacher friend had disappeared. It was about the intermission time and someone had left. She had gained entry. I could feel that our other friend was more resourceful in achieving these local goals. He assured me that we both could go in and it was only a matter of time. At this time, the event broke for intermission. During the intermission, one of the guards escorted my friend away inside the hall. I sat at a bench pondering my next move. The intermission ended and all returned inside. Then to my surprise and delight, the guard asked me to enter through a side door. There was one seat vacant in a pool of humanity. I managed to get there stepping on many toes. I seated myself. All appeared quiet, everyone was glued on to the stage.
It was an open amphitheater stage with people sitting on three sides. The event was in three parts. First two parts happened in the first half. In the second half they were enacting a Japanese folk story. The production was indeed experimental. The choreographer was adopting the steps from Indian classical dance to depict a Japanese story. Indian classical dance is known for its facial expressions and intricate body movements. One tells a story through gestures and eye movement. Here it was more mime. The artists were from the local dance schools.
The story was about a Japanese fishing village where a man was fooling people as a ghost. A rumor had gone around about a ghost in a tree outside the village. The ghost roamed around the village in the night. The acceptance of the existence of ghosts is a part of old human belief system. It has something to do with death and after-life. Nobody understands the travel of life. Various stories have been cooked as the culture would accept. This man was terrorizing the villagers in the disguise of a tree ghost.
Indian dance is all action oriented and no props are used. Masks and face painting are used in tribal dances and some of the southern classical styles. The modern dance choreography from the west however uses extra stage craft and objects to tell the story. What we were observing was a tree prop instead of a tree mask. Dancing like a tree is the art form of India. The steps are different and the training is hard. But there was applause and I participated. The dancers did their best. I thought that the dance needed more work to bring the art on stage.
After the compliments were done, we exited through various doors. I observed people to check what was the curiosity that brought people to the experiment. I had come to meet Ratikanta, the son of late dance teacher Kelu Mahapatra whom I knew during my school days. The music was prerecorded. I did hear the beats of oDiA percussion as the tree vibrated. The gong music was more choppy. I thought the sound mixing was not very good.
I was panning the room to locate my enigmatic friend. I thought my entry had something to do with my friend since I did not ask anyone. I did not recall the guard who escorted me in since it was too sudden. I wanted to acknowledge the friendly gesture. While slowly walking out of the room, I did glance upon my friend. He seemed happy with a "job accomplished" look. I thanked for his gesture and begged leave. He asked where would I go and I told my home address. Then he said he would go in the same direction and would not mind helping me.
There is a theory that human beings should be trusted before we may find faults with them. Lately we teach our children not to trust others and to totally keep away from the strangers. The first principle rests on a philosophical belief that the human condition is pre-determined and one navigates life through encounters. Here the logic is made that each encounter is a message and needs attention than rejection. The reverse logic could be that any attention could lead to involvement and hence isolation could be a better method. With Indian descent, I go with the former path, though the world humanity is changing fast.
I accepted his offer of leading me to the train station. Actually I felt relieved to unburden a task associated in my adventure. Then he said if I would mind coffee in the NCPA cafetaria before we left. The proposal sounded good to me since I thought I could gain more perspective on my return journey by meeting others in the cafetaria.
The cafetaria was by the side of the theater, part of an urban garden. We were seated. My friend said that it was usual for him to visit the cafetaria after each event. I asked him who were his friends and why would he not be with them in outings. He said that he was never married but had many relationships. The story became strange. Why me?
He said he was the second of four brothers. Two of the brothers lived in Mumbai. Both had lost their wives. He was an uncle to a host of nephews and nieces. He was in IT in youth and made a lot of money through work, but was laid off ten years ago since the "company thought that he was too smart!" He did not work any more but survived through investments. He said he connects to computer people like Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.
We ordered some food and the story continued. It appeared more like a friendly confession, but I did not know why he chose me. Then I thought that it could be a general pattern and I should be careful before he asked me for help. He went on saying how many women loved him but he could not trust any one of them. He said he made friends through internet and created connections. He was worried that many would not maintain connectivity with him though he would try hard. He chuckled describing his various adventures on e-mail connections.
I wanted to pay the bill and in his act of grace he said that I was a guest and I must not pay. After I had a free lunch, now I was having a free dinner. India is known for hospitality, but this sudden burst needed comprehension. My friend spoke to the manager whom he knew well. He also tipped the servers. I thanked him for the meal and for his friendship. He said "It was a pleasure!". But why?
We came to the wide foot walk, a part of the Marine Drive. There were various people seated on the raised embankment in the dimmed park like environment. Public romance is not accepted as a good conduct in India. All people were well clad and well behaved. There were probably strong police rules against vulgarity and misconduct. The Marathis are a proud cultured people. The area has been a testing ground and home for the old Indian culture for many centuries. Both men and women looked gracious.
My friend was walking brisk, I was trying to catch up. We passed by the old Nirmal building where I had come in the '70s to meet the older Tata to beg him a free ticket to attend a conference abroad. It was the only building standing in the area those days. Currently there was a whole line of buildings stretching more than half a mile till one comes to an intersection.
We passed a couple of more intersections and turned right. After about a mile's walk we reached the Churchgate station, the entry point of the Mumbai suburban trains. I bought my ticket, my friend said that he had a monthly pass. We went through a gate but no one checked anything. I thought it was a wonder that such a city subway could run on honor. My friend escorted me to the train and told me that he would find the right compartment.
We spoke various topics on the train. I did compliment him on his generosity and advised him to go into the scriptures than wasting time on the internet. He quietly got a book from his shirt pocket inside the jacket. He said he read the book every day and carried it with him. It was the Sanskrit book entitled Devi Mahatmya, a text I strongly admire. I was stunned to see the book with him. I said to him that I carried one in my shoulder bag.
We talked philosophy and cosmology. He seemed to have studied. He gave me his email address. Then it was time for him to get down. He advised me that my stop was further ahead and that it would come on the right. Equipped with the information, I proceeded forward and reached our home after the long day.
