The only other event in the competition was the film section, with another ridiculous name. When I had heard the school was supposed to enter a short film, with only days left to go, I was convinced they would never be able to make it in time. I hadn’t banked on their own creativity, resilience, and the assistance of the media studio guys at the college. Nor5 for that seemed to be the over-riding ethos of the festival, with everything done at the last minute in a state of high panic.
The film they produced was great- simple but charming and sincere. Which only goes to show what I know about film. And Nepalis. I felt ashamed of myself. The various films were to be shown, and judged, today, (though unexpectedly postponed from Saturday. Maybe CMS were not ready? Hmm.) I went along for the first couple of films, and to give support to Jigyasa and Aanshika, who would have to answer questions about it.
But then I had to leave, in order to be collected and taken for our interviews. I was actually a little nervous. I was pretty sure what I was about to be asked, and knew it was not something I wanted. But Geeta is a pretty formidable woman, and I can sometimes agree to things I don’t want, for want of giving offence. Geoff and I waitd where Geeta had told us to wait, but typically the organisers would not accept our word for it, and insisted we go to the Control Room. Presumably, Geeta’s driver would be able to track us down.
Actually, it was her gopher who found us, and took us out to the car and driver. It was a large and very comfortable range-rover like vehicle, though of course they had to tackle the same way as everyone else on the road: pushing across junctions, horn blaring.
Geeta had a large and most comfortable office, with staff to look after her (and us.) And the interview began. She started with Geoff. He is a most remarkably qualified musician, plays thirteen instruments, a former bandmaster with the Scots Guards, now working as director of music at a Delhi school. Unfortunately, he is very right wing no surprise there), and the most frightful bore. The day before, over lunch, he had filled me in at great length on his progress through the ranks of the army, and various stories illustrating his life then and now, mostly emphasising his own ability and high standards, and denigrating that of his colleagues. And now, of course, he proceeded to do so all over again.
CMS has only recently taken to western music in a big way; their nascent orchestra of some four months standing had given a performance during the opening ceremony, of a standard you might expect, partly overcome by the fact that there were about two hundred of them on stage. Geeta was very keen to raise the standards, and her Indian staff were not capable of doing this, being only minimally trained. Geoff was probably just the person she needed (if he didn’t put you to sleep).
And then my turn. Actually, she then gave me the out I was looking for. They had no curricular drama in the school, were instead only really interested in huge showpiece events. What they needed was someone to establish the teaching of Drama, to focus on the art of acting; I had pointed out that the drama competition did not mention the word acting once.
I was able to say, quite honestly, that I was not the person she was looking for, for nowadays I was only interested in short-term, one-off projects. What they needed was a full-time Drama teacher, preferably old enough to have plenty of experience, but young enough to have plenty of energy. And I could assist them to find that person. They had never thought of advertising in the TES. I could help draft an ad, even help with the interview process if it was held in London.
She didn’t give up without a fight. If I could help them in the meantime, come for maybe three months, though six would be better (and presumably a year better still.) But I remained firm. She thanked us both (and later sent me a wonderfully gracious and complimentary message), and we were driven back to the school.
The film competition was still in progress, our film still had not been shown (with our two girls sitting there throughout.) But it did mean I could see and hear it; I had only seen a silent version on a phone. And it was great.
The afternoon was designated for “sight-seeing and shopping”. Well, you could forget the sight-seeing bit; a fleet of buses were dispatched to the huge mall, half an hour’s drive away on the other side of the city. I can’t say I enjoyed it, though it was good to spend some time with the kids, especially with Dipesh, someone I had not talked to that much. But I might as well have been in the Westgate in Oxford, with a slight Indian twist. I did get the tailors in one shop very excited, when I tried on some high-collared, Indian jackets. But they didn’t have one small enough (!) though they promised they could alter one for me. Not in fifteen minutes they couldn’t.
