Actually, the event was not so much a wash-up – a discussion on things learnt, what went well and not so well – as an end of production party, held at Mohi’s studio, the magical venue for all our early rehearsals. Pleasingly, nearly everyone was there, barring one Ariel and a King of Naples. It was a very Indian sort of affair, starting with chai and cake, with a few beers brought in towards the end for those few who might appreciate it (me and Val included.) I chatted most with Utkarsh (Sebastian), whom we have got to know quite well, as he stayed the night at our apartment the night before the performance (he lives some 95 kms away, coming in on the bus for rehearsals), as well as Abbas (Prospero.) He too I have connected well with; he studied at Hammersmith for two years, and now runs a film production company, as well as appearing some television shows as an actor. I have told him, only half-jokingly, that if ever he has need of an English butler, aristocrat, or villain, I’m his man.
I also chatted briefly with Rohit, who appears utterly exhausted, and he confirmed what I had suspected, that his enjoyment of the production had been tempered by the stress of putting it together; one lesson learnt is that Ehsaaz needs more active participants to share the load, as it had largely been shouldered by him and Vikash. But he did indicate that another project with me would be welcomed.
When things livened up, the majority of people moved indoors, as we were disturbing the neighbours. Unfortunately, I was unable to join them, as I was nabbed for a recorded interview by Aviral, a friend of Ehsaaz who hosts a regular podcast on the arts. It was not unenjoyable, but also slightly surreal; there were standard questions about my introduction to theatre, a tale I have told often during my drama workshops, so had well-rehearsed, as well as my approach to Shakespeare. But he also wanted to steer me towards thoughts on Christopher Marlowe, his own pet favourite (about whom I know nothing) and Jacobean revenge tragedy (abut which I can bluster a bit.) But it did mean I missed the rest of the party; by the time we finished recording, people were streaming out, preparing to leave.
At the end of the interview, I was able to reference Brecht, one of my other great loves, alongside Shakespeare. Brecht had been on my mind, particularly after the night before, after the performance, when we had finally returned home. We had no food in the apartment, and n any case wanted a drink, so had returned to our next-door food and watering hole, the Hotel Alcaraz. It had been touch and go whether we would even make it out the door; I was almost comatose with fatigue, and a beer and two or three cocktails did not exactly wake me up. But gradually my mood improved, assisted by the alcohol, and Val and I had a pleasant chat about what we had enjoyed about the production, so a wash-up of sorts.
But when we returned, despite my exhaustion I could not sleep, my head whirring with thoughts of the next potential project with Ehsaaz: a production of Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle. Ideas flooded through my brain, and eventually I got up to write a long message to Vikash, outlining some of them. It was insensitive at the very least, to burden Vikash with this when we had scarcely finished one project (and with both he and Rohit engaged in a theatre festival at Amity starting the very next day), and with bot of them equally as weary as me. But6 I did also make it clear that I was thinking of a year hence, addressing one of the lessons learnt from The Tempest: a far longer lead-in, with perhaps two, or even three, visits. A long way off, then, but as with Thame Youth Theatre, one of my theatrical joys is that, as soon as one project finishes, another can start. Who knows…
