(“Savior” rose out of a Rangashankara-festival-2005 post-play-run-coffee session. I documented and edited the following bit from a conversation I was having with Tushar Shukla, Bindya Das and Nilluka (not sure of surname), all of whom belong(-ed then) to the theatre group MASRAH. Ownership to SSS lies with all of us. Inspired by SSS I compiled (and attached to SSS) other ramblings of my own that had stemmed up during the RS festival…so this version is my own)
Here’s the Savior!
He has come! He has arrived!
Savior? Who Savior and what are you expecting to be saved?
We’re- all four of us, thinking different things; I’m thinking of porn
Fondle me, FONDLE ME?
I like to be called Intellectual but I’m not
Sssh! There’s people here
Hey, they’re used to it
I’ve made good friends with a bunch of hairdressers who clean hair droppings that you leave behind
Enact the music going on in her mind
Songs in the mind when I get up in the morning?
Good news for the modern man
I believe in the total non-existence, in-existence, what the heck is the antonym to existence?
Someone left his VIP bag around…my Kleptomaniac-al instincts kick in
Being singular or being single? Plural-ur
Hip hip hurray
Charlie and Rumplestiltskin were friends
I’m leaving, Literally.
Literally, or illiterally, which of these could lead to illiteracy?
A golden ticket to roll up top tobacco
A graveyard of butts
He’s an objective steno blessed with selective filtering
Palak is good, it makes you an awesome cook
Have you lost weight? Are you sick of loosing the world? I’d rather they loose the question
I’ve worked so un-hard to remove that 1kg off me
Prerogative, purgatory, pubic hair, here we go with Ps this time
That last P reminds me of college boys’ chins!
That last word, Oh! Christ
Vodka dribbling down
I like handicaps
YOU have a borrowed social life?
Can I borrow it?
Mutilating humiliation. An actor not in touch with his body? Is that an excuse, or is that an excuse?
I say my lines in complete touch with my stoic, withdrawn almost sucking within style of speech. Acting! Where is that though? Trying to shakespeare it, eh! Sheer audacity.
But well, with my own lines? Never to draw out the emotion except in the act of vomited writings, making love to paper, or hatred if you will.
Large incapacity to viagral stimulation-reference irrelevant
The page gets abused.
Something to say, itching to, yet not knowing what to, how to, when to… If at all I do blurt out, most in-contextually, it misses its target. And yet, here I am, the one who prides himself as a keen observer of the timing with which one’s vocal conveyor belt enters this land of mud, made of people of mud, which kept alive with a combined elemental dynamo.
Life it is, yes, swimming to live within the ocean or swimming to mate within a man’s procreational body fluid; degrees of difference being their independence in spheres of existence-this life doesn’t think or so they make us believe in the world of biology. But I possess the creative genius of evolution placed safely within the confines of tightly packed calcium deposits…It almost allows me to be, I say almost.
Honestly, where is my honesty, does it lie where I think it does…?
Duran Duran comes undone within the frame of my mind. How does it trigger those memories that should by now be lost in the weirdness of emotion and a future-then, past-now linear movement of time? Erase and rewind? No, just erase it all, once and for all and get rid of the tape. Clean that slate, squeak squeak…does it help?
No?
Then go figure
Ecstasy removed, action in place like an apparitional encounter. Help! Screams the mind but engages in the same activity hoping that the ray of gold will penetrate.
Does my prayer trigger compassion so the ray hits faster?
Does this require the ray to think?
Newton would be scandalized! Inertia far removed, momentum yet closer, a moving, thinking, feeling ray of light! Ok, we were speaking of life, and some light. Lets pick an L, say life, Life, LIFE! Life post theatre festival, just a thought, where does it head dude? A friend’s question triggers my train of thought. I mean, today is the end of this exhibition of drama forms-the festival, just like that, and who decides that? What the heck is the matter with this place with lights all over, catering to the theatre cult? Is anyone affected? Does it move something within you?
Movement
I understood why she doesn’t talk, why the unresponsiveness. I don’t claim to know all of it, just what she told me. So I’m going to let her smoke her cigarette, all in peace, all to herself.
Culmination
Private space, public space, private parts and public arms, all exposed, all barred, naked and fully clothed.
Rescuer role-play, I don’t do it so often now, but I still do, and how do I rescue? She’s deep within and right into, all floating and drowning but not dying; she takes a U-turn and turns in the wheel.
“You know this is a racist country!”
“Don’t talk to me like that!”
Yes, write it all down, whether it makes sense or not he tells me, sooner or later it will.
The eraser has turned as hard as stone, it smudges the word and stains my page with no act of violence; the page doesn’t tear.
Soon this city will turn enmeshed, a city of hole-residences, and you will be asked to find a gap, your physical gap, just yours. So I wonder, when the sheep herd together, comes along the Shep-herd-er?
Deepak Srinivasan
Here’s the Savior!
He has come! He has arrived!
Savior? Who Savior and what are you expecting to be saved?
We’re- all four of us, thinking different things; I’m thinking of porn
Fondle me, FONDLE ME?
I like to be called Intellectual but I’m not
Sssh! There’s people here
Hey, they’re used to it
I’ve made good friends with a bunch of hairdressers who clean hair droppings that you leave behind
Enact the music going on in her mind
Songs in the mind when I get up in the morning?
Good news for the modern man
I believe in the total non-existence, in-existence, what the heck is the antonym to existence?
Someone left his VIP bag around…my Kleptomaniac-al instincts kick in
Being singular or being single? Plural-ur
Hip hip hurray
Charlie and Rumplestiltskin were friends
I’m leaving, Literally.
Literally, or illiterally, which of these could lead to illiteracy?
A golden ticket to roll up top tobacco
A graveyard of butts
He’s an objective steno blessed with selective filtering
Palak is good, it makes you an awesome cook
Have you lost weight? Are you sick of loosing the world? I’d rather they loose the question
I’ve worked so un-hard to remove that 1kg off me
Prerogative, purgatory, pubic hair, here we go with Ps this time
That last P reminds me of college boys’ chins!
That last word, Oh! Christ
Vodka dribbling down
I like handicaps
YOU have a borrowed social life?
Can I borrow it?
Mutilating humiliation. An actor not in touch with his body? Is that an excuse, or is that an excuse?
I say my lines in complete touch with my stoic, withdrawn almost sucking within style of speech. Acting! Where is that though? Trying to shakespeare it, eh! Sheer audacity.
But well, with my own lines? Never to draw out the emotion except in the act of vomited writings, making love to paper, or hatred if you will.
Large incapacity to viagral stimulation-reference irrelevant
The page gets abused.
Something to say, itching to, yet not knowing what to, how to, when to… If at all I do blurt out, most in-contextually, it misses its target. And yet, here I am, the one who prides himself as a keen observer of the timing with which one’s vocal conveyor belt enters this land of mud, made of people of mud, which kept alive with a combined elemental dynamo.
Life it is, yes, swimming to live within the ocean or swimming to mate within a man’s procreational body fluid; degrees of difference being their independence in spheres of existence-this life doesn’t think or so they make us believe in the world of biology. But I possess the creative genius of evolution placed safely within the confines of tightly packed calcium deposits…It almost allows me to be, I say almost.
Honestly, where is my honesty, does it lie where I think it does…?
Duran Duran comes undone within the frame of my mind. How does it trigger those memories that should by now be lost in the weirdness of emotion and a future-then, past-now linear movement of time? Erase and rewind? No, just erase it all, once and for all and get rid of the tape. Clean that slate, squeak squeak…does it help?
No?
Then go figure
Ecstasy removed, action in place like an apparitional encounter. Help! Screams the mind but engages in the same activity hoping that the ray of gold will penetrate.
Does my prayer trigger compassion so the ray hits faster?
Does this require the ray to think?
Newton would be scandalized! Inertia far removed, momentum yet closer, a moving, thinking, feeling ray of light! Ok, we were speaking of life, and some light. Lets pick an L, say life, Life, LIFE! Life post theatre festival, just a thought, where does it head dude? A friend’s question triggers my train of thought. I mean, today is the end of this exhibition of drama forms-the festival, just like that, and who decides that? What the heck is the matter with this place with lights all over, catering to the theatre cult? Is anyone affected? Does it move something within you?
Movement
I understood why she doesn’t talk, why the unresponsiveness. I don’t claim to know all of it, just what she told me. So I’m going to let her smoke her cigarette, all in peace, all to herself.
Culmination
Private space, public space, private parts and public arms, all exposed, all barred, naked and fully clothed.
Rescuer role-play, I don’t do it so often now, but I still do, and how do I rescue? She’s deep within and right into, all floating and drowning but not dying; she takes a U-turn and turns in the wheel.
“You know this is a racist country!”
“Don’t talk to me like that!”
Yes, write it all down, whether it makes sense or not he tells me, sooner or later it will.
The eraser has turned as hard as stone, it smudges the word and stains my page with no act of violence; the page doesn’t tear.
Soon this city will turn enmeshed, a city of hole-residences, and you will be asked to find a gap, your physical gap, just yours. So I wonder, when the sheep herd together, comes along the Shep-herd-er?
Deepak Srinivasan
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