You must forgive the poor quality of the above, + probably of what is to follow, but at the time of writing I am not at all well – surprise, surprise. Hm, I travel abroad to be ill in as many faintly seedy hotel rooms as I can possibly manage. But that’s another story for another day – you’ll simply have to wait (or skip a few days.) So on with the day.
We had considered taking a city tour today, but I was keen on seeing a production of “The Merchant of Venice” this evening, put on by one of the local schools, so we thought that would be cutting things a bit fine. Besides, there was still a lot of shopping to do. Most of it, admittedly, was for Val, but it was clear that the pressure of getting it done was beginning to tell, so I accompanied her for just about as long as I could stand it, to lend moral support – that is, about a morning’s worth. Half a morning really, because we didn’t make a very early start. And then we ran into Dave + Suzanne again, + stood chatting with them for half an hour or so. I was OK looking at the various stalls with Val, I even quite enjoyed myself, but when she decided she wanted to look around the underground market, I couldn’t take more than a couple of minutes before claustrophobia forced me up. We arranged a time + place to meet again, + I left her to it.
I spent a couple of hours sitting in the sunshine in the park in the middle of Connaught Circus. It is a remarkable place, both terribly active, with fruit sellers, shoe cleaners, masseurs, ear cleaners (I jest not) constantly offering their services, as well as being calm + peaceful. I chatted for a while with a fellow English traveller, who approached me initially to see if I wanted to buy some grass – he has loads left over, + is flying off to Thailand tonight. But as we too are on our way in just a couple of days, I declined.
Met Val + ate a good meal, then made our way back to the cottage. We called in on Shamshad as agreed, + explained that we would quite like to see the play – he was all for it, which was fortunate. I then rushed off to buy the tickets, while Val went back to change. I was disconcerted to see “House full” notices all over the lobby, but luckily I happened upon a schoolboy – a budding tout – who had some spare. Val arrived in a flap – 2 shirts that she had taken so much time + trouble over buying, one of which she had planned to wear tonight, were missing from the shopping bag. This upset her enormously, not because of the money, which was almost negligible, but because of the wasted effort. But there was nothing to be done, so we both took our seats. The front of house was not being run very well, that was clear, but it should be said that the audience, both before + during the play, was utterly appalling, as bad as any school audience I have ever encountered, + that’s quite an achievement. Most conventional theatre depends upon a consensus between cast + audience, that the one should perform+ the other pay attention. That consensus was missing, especially (but not exclusively) with the younger members of the audience, the schoolchildren.
But as for the production itself, I must say I thought it very good indeed. I had feared to find the whole thing somewhat absurd, having 20th century Indian children aping the words + wearing the costumes of a Europe so many thousand s of miles + hundreds of years away, but in fact they carried it off much better than an equivalent English school cast would have done. They wore the costumes with confidence + aplomb, there was no hint of embarrassment at the physical intimacy of man + man. Perhaps, after all, there is not so very much difference between 20th century India + 16th century England. And I hope the aptness of the chosen play, with its religious bigotry + passionate desire for revenge, did not escape others. As far as smaller matters went, the set was admirably simple, the make-up first-rate, the costumes absolutely first-rate, ones that any professional company would be proud to wear. The acting was good, if occasionally a little fussy, + generally everyone spoke well. Shylock, unfortunately, occasionally got carried away with the emotional content to the detriment of sense + meaning, tho’ at other times he was splendid. There were some mistakes, of course – this was a one-off performance – but in general the worst thing was very definitely the audience. About the only thing that could be said in its favour was, as Val pointed out afterwards, it more nearly approximated to what Shakespeare’s original audience would have been like.
I still remember the production, and how powerful it was – it is a very problematic play nowadays, because of its inherent antisemitism, but just then it could not have been more apt, being all about social division because of prejudice. Now too, I suppose, but still…
