The magazine supplement

ARTS CULTURE

THE WEEKLY OBSERVER SUPPLEMENT tuesday,SEPTEMBER 13,2016

Free Your Mind!

Open mic events encourage a free-wheeling, cross-cultural conversation Ashima Choudhary and Romita Majumdar

It

is 5:47pm and the queue for registration is already 35 people long. The sound guy tests the microphone, the audience is buzzing with energy and the stage is set. The red-hairedwoman, who also happens to be a chef, is sitting behind a MacBook taking down details of the performers. The event starts at 7:30pm. The room is already dark except for the light pouring in from the bar and the blue spotlight on the stage.

SurajCherukata,a 23-year-old rapper from Houston, is an analyst by day at Goldman Sachs and a poet by night. “It’s all about perspective. When you are a part of the audience, you see things from the outside but while on the stage, what changes is perspective. You get to see the inside of everything,”he says. He seems to have found the perfect work-life balance.

Ranging from rap in regional languages to poetry slams and jazz, the night witnessed everything: locality, hospitality and camaraderie. The artists got to rub shoulders with likeminded people and perform for an enthusiastic and encouraging audience. That’s the magic of the stage; it revives the art as well as the artist.

HummingTree is the go-to destination for people in and around Bangalore if they want to participate in open mics. Fifteen-year-old Rohan, who performed stand-up comedy at one of these events, joked about how it’s better that he gets an opportunity to showcase his talent and fail now rather than when he’s 25-years-old.

Navya Sah, a student at Srishti Institute of Art Design and Technology, was at the event to perform spoken word poetry for the first time. She had been in love with the art form since she was introduced to it in the first year of art course. Her friend Rhea Iyer said they had been frequently visiting HummingTree for four years as it had all the best new artists in town and also fantastic live music.

The performances range from English rap based on classic literature to Kannada rap channelling Eminem, Urdu-Hindi poetry and stand-up jokes about sexism and boring marriages. Nothing seems off limits here.

Be it poetry jams under the stars or balmy evenings in a cosy cafe, Bangalore’s open mic scene is jumping. As British novelist Terry Pratchett put it, “You know what the greatest tragedy is in the whole

world? It’s all the people who never find outwhat it is they really want to do or what it is they’re really good at.”

And increasingly, people do seem keen to find out. Not only do open mic events provide a big platform but also a sensitive audience which applauds good performances and encourages nervous wrecks. The crowd can range from expats to teenagers and middleaged couples who turn up for a friendly evening.

“on the stage, what changes is perspective. You get to see the inside of everything,”

Open mics have been gaining popularity all over India over the past few years. “There are a fair number of open platforms for poetry enthusiasts in Delhi but none in Gurgaon. I had been a regular at various poetry meets and clubs. I decided to take the plunge and work on setting up a similar platform in Gurgaon,” says Indrajit Singh, who manages Poetry Darbaar in Gurgaon. “One of my best memories includes adults between the age of 70-75 years turning up and asking for a spot to perform. It was the first time they got a chance to voice their thoughts in front of a largeaudience,“he adds.

Ainesh Mujoo, 21, creative head and founder of Ink Storms which organises events in various cities around India.

Ink Storms started in 2013 with four people pursuing different forms of art around ink. It began with the intention of creating an environment where these mutual arts appreciators could meet, share stories and probably collaborate. The whole crowd became a family after the first event and the love for art keeps it going.

Manish Tyagi, an engineer by profession had spent 23 years in the Indian Navy before quitting as a Commander and performing at an open mic. “I was a man with fifty shades of gray, trying to crack adult jokes. I bombed many times till I found my comfort on stage”, he recalls. He started getting noticed at these events and was soon offered opportunities to open shows for other artists. He stresses the importance of developing the ‘3C’s for overcoming stage fear: confidence, comfort and content. Another important aspect of stand-ups is of course learning to handle the audience, he added.

Despite a rising tide of intolerance of creative voices in the subcontinent, open mics refuse to be constrained by the bounds of propriety. But they do have their share of friction with the ‘moral police’. Max Mystel, from Bangladesh, started off as a magician before evolving into a full time stand-up comedian “Mostly I stay away from political or religious topics because I have become too comfortable in my set which was designed to appeal to a crowd of all ages. That also owes to the fact that I used to be a street performer.”He also added that open mics are very important to encourage others to come and try standup and practice their art

SidhantMago, the brain behind Poetry and Cheap Humour(PACH)explains, “We didn’t think of it as a business venture. The aim was to make people believe that they can find happiness in an investment of a pen and a paper. PACH is an open group for poets, thinkers,

writers and listeners alike.”

“In smaller towns, you tend to reach out to everyone in the circuit because everyone knows everyone. It is a much more intimate setting and even though these artists might not be as polished as the ones in metros; but the events are never about the quality of art. It is more about providing people a stage to express themselves and tell their stories in whatever form of expression suits them,” says

Performers deserve an audience that appreciates art. And open mic events provide audiences a unique opportunity to experience first-hand what’s being asked of them.

Bringing Medea to life

Performing Euripides’ tragedy feels like stepping off a cliff Shannon Ridge Court

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as it right to murder them for that? I beg you, let me feel their tender skin!” Jason screams as he looks at his two dead children lying in a pool of blood while Medea, their mother and Jason’s wife, sits motionless, staring at the bloody knife in her hand.

The stage lights dims to amber, reflecting the helpless rage surging through both their hearts while the audience, in stunned silence, struggles to comprehend the idea of ‘justice’ presented by Euripides in his tragedy Medea.The play tells the tale of a woman who is driven to murder her own children to avenge her husband’s betrayal.

Perfection is not just about self control, it is also about letting go.

And I did not realize this until I played the role of Jason in a production of Medea last year at Christ University. As an actor, one needs to surprise oneself in order to surprise the audience. It was a difficult process for me to ‘play’ Jason without becoming him. In theatre, Stanislavsky’s method teaches that one must bring truthful emotions to the part, merging the internal workings of the character’s mind with one’s own.

For this purpose, the director ManavGamisuggested a rehearsal process where all the actors had to be transparent with each other.

“The group was intrigued by a life that seemed so very far removed from their own. The effort was not to set out in search of something that was different, although we probably did go in search of things that involved travelling a certain distance away from our own lives and away from the lives of characters we already explored,” he recalls.

At first, I couldn’t begin to imagine why a mother would murder her own children, what such an unthinkable act had to do with revenge.

To take away from her husband what was most precious to him? But what wrong had the children done to deserve their fate?Why would being a wife matter more than being a mother? I had to dive into myself, for I believe an actor owes it to the character he takes on to understand him completely.

If catharsis had to be evoked for an audience, I had to experiencethe catharsis I was portraying. To be Jason,I used the image of my father as a reference. I drew a parallel between Jason and my ambitious father, who had left my motherfor another woman. His life, at that point, had been set and he was on the verge of realising his lifelong dream of managing a school. But it would have impossiblewere it not for my mother and the support of his children. My mother had always supported him, as Medea hadsupported Jason. Here Jason too had moved up the ladder and with time and good fortune, married King Creon’s daughter, Glauce.

It was a painful, yet liberating experience for me.

For a play to be cohesive, it must maintain an internal balance of power and the role of the Greek Chorus serves this purpose. Acting as a commentator, its exaggerated movements and voice modulation provide an intriguing counterpoint to an otherwise deadly serious play. In the beginning, the Chorus pities Medea and her misfortune for being abandoned by her husband, but towards the end gives voice to the horror felt by the audience. The Chorus acts as a con-

to preserve the sanctity of marriage.

The director deemed Glauceworthy to gift her a soliloquy which is not part of the original script. The intention was to show how a third person is affected by the actions of others as much as by right and wrong, justice and order. Her wordsunderscored theentrenched patriarchy of her society.

“The challenge in playing Medea was the necessity of portraying the depth of character so that the audience did not simply peg Medea down as a mad woman or psychopath, but rather a woman who was pushed to the point where she felt that there was no choice but to do the horrendous things she did,” says Ann Tissa who played Medea.

“She as a character is highly demanding and draining -emotionally, mentally and physically.I would isolate myself outside rehearsal space and prefer not to interact in preparation for the role, as Medea felt the same way about her own reality. It brought about a vulnerability in me and strength in learning to be alone,” says Tissa.

SambhavNahar, played the Blind Tutor in the play. He recalled he would stare at the wall after he got home for half an hour every dayand would even sit in the dark to see through the eyes of a blind man. “I walked around with a stick during rehearsals and developed a walk for a blind man. I watched Al Pacino in ‘The Scent of a Woman’ for reference” he says.

In the end, when Jason kneels before Medea and begs for mercy, we see a role-reversal and a certain restoration of balance. The audience feels an incredible sense of loss but also, albeit grudgingly, one of resolution.

Sets, lights and sound played an integral part in the success of the production. The colours of the lights changed to reflect action, attitudes and shifts in the tides within the play. Tones and shades of red depicted murder, blood, rage. Yellow was used to convey ambition, aspirations, yearning and dreams and turned to gold if the characters sought the light. Immersed in such a completeexperience, actors became the characters they play.

“Perfection is not just about self control, it is also about letting go”

duit between reality and the characters’ minds.

The Greek Chorus at times acts as an observer while at others it is the unspoken voice and conscience of the characters who cannot see beyond the surface of their own thoughts. A scene where the Chorus holds up a caged bird connects the threads that bind the characters together as subject to law, will and interest beyond their individual control. An urn Jason breaksspeaks of his shattered vow

ARTS CULTURE

SUPPLEMENT

THE WEEKLY OBSERVER TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2016

The Veil off Kashmir

A documentary film on Kashmir tests the government’s commitment to free expression Cherry Agarwal

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reedom of expression has been a rare commodity in Kashmir.Under the autocratic rule of the Dogras before Independence and thereafter,the people of Kashmir have suffered decades of undemocratic rule, under governments imposed directly or indirectly by Delhi. The wars with Pakistan in 1947, 1965 and 1971, the deployment of the army in the cities and in populated areassince the 80s, the endless curfews, the imposition of the Armed Forces Special Powers Act and theauthoritarian measures taken to combat years of militancy and unrest have all taken a toll on civil liberties.

It’s unsurprising then that a film that seeks to document Kashmir’s long night should suffer a similar fate.Written and directed by Sanjay Kak, Jashn-e-Azadi is a documentary film that explores the roots of theindependence movement inthe Kashmir Valley. Released in 2007 and screened around the world, the film has led a precarious existence in India. Repeatedly banned and its screenings disrupted, Jashn and has become something of a lightning rod for the bitterly dividedpublic discourseon the future of Kashmir.

Most recently, Jashn was scheduled to be screened in St. Aloysius College, Bangalore but was cancelled at the last minute on the request of thelocal police. “The screening of Kak’s Jashn-e-Azadi was to enable our students to form an informed opinion about Kashmir, particularly given the biased narratives that prevail,” said Leon Louis, a Professor at Aloysius College. “The cops cancelled the screening saying the content of the film was ‘sensitive’.”

The cancellation of Jashn-e-Azadi’s screening, at a time when protests in Kashmir have already claimed over 60 lives and injured thousands, raises unavoidable questions about the government’s commitment to India’s democratic ideals, particularly our right to be informed. “The purpose is to silence Kashmiris and keep the pro-India narratives going,” editorialised the KashmirObserver.

The film tries to stay clear of simplistic explanations of the situation in Kashmir. Itpresents multiple viewpoints through the use of old footage and the voices of people on the ground. Jashn-e-Azadi literally translates as ‘celebration of freedom’ but the subtitle of the film, ‘How we celebrate freedom’ better conveys the ambivalence about Indian democ-

racy this remarkable film seeks to get across.

“It’s 15th August, India’s Independence Day, and the Indian flag ritually goes up at Lal Chowk in the heart of Srinagar, Kashmir. The normally bustling square is eerily empty – a handful of soldiers on parade, some more guarding them, and except for the attendant media crews, no Kashmiris.”

These sullen acts of protest have marked August 15 in Kashmir for more than a decade, reads the synopsis of the documentary Jashn-e-Azadi on its official blog.

As he explained in an interview with website Kashmir Lit, Kak wants to show the sentiment behind the idea of Azadi in Kashmir.

The film opens with the gently rolling waters of a river when the calm is shattered bythe crackle of gunfire. It cuts to a crowd of people running helter-skelter from the policeat their heels and more shots are heard in the background as Kak sets out to document the long struggle for Azadiin Kashmir.

The narrative begins with a flashback. It shows the protests that have wracked Kashmir from the early 1990s andmoves back and forth to the documentary’s present in2007.Thenarrativetacks between the indignation of protestors to the suffering of a martyr’s father, from arguments for freedomfrom India to a funeral procession, and through these transitions across time and perspective, Kak tries to convey a sense ofthe Kashmir Valley’s turmoil.

Yetthis method,which so successfully captures theall-round sense of despair, fails to establish a coherent storyline. In its effort to evoke the past as well as the present, the documentarycombines several modes of expression, as the blog Kash-

mir film puts it. But thisapproach comes at the cost of an intelligible timeline that would have helped the lay viewer grasp the sequence of events that has led to the current impasse.

Jashn tells the story of ordinary Kashmiris,trapped between the demands of the militants opposing Indian rule and those of an army in occupation of their land. While capturingthe full spectrum of voices of the Kashmir Valley’s predominantly Muslim populace, the documentary fails to present the trauma of the valley’s formerHindu inhabitants, the Kashmiri Pandits, who fled the violence. The Pandits who have been in exile for the past 26 years are still waiting to return home.

Kak, a Kashmiri Pandit himself, said in an interview with Kashmir Lit that the exodus of Pandits from the valley was not just a personal tragedy but a great tragedy for Kashmir, for the Kashmiri Muslims and for India as well. Yet Jashn-eAzadi fails to provide a voice to this tragedy. To this criticism, Kak replied that the film was not intended to be “encyclopaedic but a personal one,” as the Telegraphnewspaper reported.

Every Indian knows that at the time they acceded to India, the people of Kashmir had won an unprecedented assurance of autonomy for the erstwhile kingdom under article 370 of the Constitution. That ensured the people of Jammu and Kashmir would have complete control over their affairs except in the areas of defence, foreign relations and communications.

The attrition of the last 60 years has eroded this autonomy to the point that the popularly elected government of Jammu and Kashmir lacks legitimacy in the eyes of the people. Thus, demands for independence from India notwithstanding, a solution could lie closer to hand: Honour the commitments of 1947 and restore popular confidence in Indian democracy.

Central to that promise is enforcing the constitutional guarantees against arbitrary arrest and unlawful detention. No less important is lifting all restrictions on the freedom of expression. Let films like Jashn-e-Azadi be freely screened, give every voice an opportunity to be heard – and listen for a change.

Hard Rock Cafe It’s tough making a living as a rock musician in India Arunava Banerjee

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ecause we all wanna be big rockstars and live in hilltop houses driving 15 cars,” sang Canadian rock band Nickleback, echoing the aspiration of every wannabe rock and metal star. But the road to rockstardom is a hard ride anywhere, particularly so in India wherethe roadis rutted and pot holes abound.

“The biggest problem is money. You need equipment first and then you need jam-room spaces. Recording a single costs at least Rs. 10,000,” says Rohit Banerjee, vocalist and guitarist of Bangalore-basedband Vintage Frequency. “It is definitely a career option; just that it isn’t conventional and requires extra effort. If you aren’testablished, you need an alternate job or to record jingles to make ends meet. Your band will not pay you in its initial stages,” he cautions.

Pub culture is growing in cities across the country and they provide a small but steady opportunity to perform, get noticed and earn regular, if not a lot of, money. Rock concerts, festivals and competitions offer bigger rewards but are infrequent and mostly provide openings for upcoming local bands.

Dibya Raj Mukhia, guitarist and vocalist of Kolkata-based Gingerfeet and winner of the 2012 Hornbill Festival, an annual music competition held in Nagaland, says there were times when the band played for around Rs. 5,000 a gig at pubs near Siliguri, their hometown. “There are situations when it’s a purely commercial deal,pub owners bring in bands for the atmosphere. It’s not reallyto promote the band. On many occasions, the amount received for performing gigs is less than the investment we make getting there,” he says.

But Mukhia is optimistic about the improving prospects for rock bands in the country. “There are events happening across the country that promote local talent like NH7 Weekender which are platforms for aspiring bands to get noticed,” he says.

Omkar Potdar, who played with Pune-based Studmuffin and is presently working on an independent project, Flying Shoe, shares Mukhia’s optimism. “We are in one of the best places because of the festivals. Ten years ago, Indian bands lacked originality to some extent, but now there are several artists who are working on original tracks which is a good sign.”

Studmuffin has performed shows outside India too,including a recent performance in Prague in the Czech Republic.

But there’s so little information about these bands even among music enthusiasts in India and few bands can actually claim to have a fan base in any sense of the word. “Rock music has a lot of potential that has not been realised. Inde-

PHOTO COURTESY: GINGERFEET FAN PAGE@FACEBOOK

pendent bands should support each other. A fan base is important,” says Vintage Frequency’s Banerjee.

Most musicians agree that solely playing for a rock band may not be enough to earn their living, at least not till a couple of albums have been released and won acclaim. Mukhia says Gingerfeetis working on their debut album and plan to release it early next year. Potdar also plans to release his solo project is January 2017. The process involved in releasing an album is involved andfairly expensive at that.

“It is difficult to get brands to sponsor albums. Yes, we do shows, but they only help us pay for our equipment and jam room rent,” says Banerjee, who balances his music career with a regular job.

Commenting on the current rock scenario in India, he says, “The situation in India is better than a lot of places but not good enough to make a career in music.

I don’t mind doing a regular job that allows me to pursue

my passion.”

“Yes,we’ve had our share of difficulties,” says Mukhia. “There have been times when we had to make long bus trips to perform a show, at times even travelling in the general compartments of trains. The music, however, was most important, and yes, we are progressing steadily. Every rock band, whether in the US, Europe or India, has had its share of struggle. Success is not something you can get in a day” he adds.

Potdar feels that a musician needs to be ‘smart’ if he wants to make it big.

“Musicians need to be open to other options. They need to be flexible about it. Music is like fashion, it evolves, trends change. Bands need to evolve,” he says. He feels that it is important to club the business aspect with making and performing music.

“Music is a business, so treat it like one. We need to be a business band,” he says. Producing good music is a creative and artistic process, but to have a career it is important to sell music.

“Nowadays marketing is easy, thanks to social networking sites. Almost all our shows are booked through our contacts posted on Facebook,” Mukhia says. In India, most organisers use Facebook to contact bands for gigs and performances. Music-sharing platforms like reverbnation.com and soundcloud are also helping bands reach out to larger audiences. “We would love a huge fan following but I believe even if five people are listening to your song,you play for them,” Mukhia said.

Although playing for a band may not seem terribly attractive, several Indian bands have proved otherwise, says Studmuffin’s Potdar. Some like Soulmate, Girish and the Chronicles, Flinstone, Indus Creed and Indian Oceanhave won acclaim and a serious fan following. “It is a good career option if your music is good and you are smart, he says.

Mukhia agrees: “As long as we can reach out to people and produce quality music, I think, playing for a band is a fantastic vocation.”