The only time I’ll call Bombay ‘Mumbai’ is when it allows me to introduce alliteration to an otherwise simple-sounding blog title.
I am a firm believer in the fact that good things take time. Meeting your heroes should only happen when you’re actually ready to see them for what they are and not your rose-tinted perception of all the good things you like about them. Stepping outside your home on a cloudy day should only happen when the perks of staying outside win over the cosiness of staying indoors. And lastly, there is a right time for everything to happen. As much as I would like to believe that now is the only right time for things to happen, delayed gratification is a thing of beauty and something that you should actively incorporate in your life – just so that even when delays occur beyond your control, you can focus on the gratification for when it finally happens!
I believe it was about two years ago when a pen pal (more like an email pal) suggested that I read Manav Kaul’s Hindi books. The first book that I picked up was Bahut door kitni door hota hai?. It was a travelogue. I had been itching to read a travelogue set in Europe for a while. It was more than a travelogue. I was looking for answers to questions that I had yet to form.
The book had some answers for me. Answers that I had been unknowingly seeking for a while now. Answers to the questions of the early twenties and that of adulting. Answer to why we need to travel, and how it changes us in profound ways that we can only realize in the years to come. Answers to why we write, catalogue our emotions and then share them with strangers.
Humanity, and the unending loneliness we feel is a shared experience. Some people can articulate it better and ensure that those without the right words to express the profoundness and depth of this feeling can still find out what they are experiencing is common and unique at the same time.
Reading Manav’s words brought me peace. And that sets precedence for failure because when the pain finally hits me, I feel blindsided. When I read more I realize that pain can be peaceful as well.
The first book I picked was a gateway into the world of Manav Kaul and the stories he has decided to share. He has many lies to tell and is proud of this deception.
In the last couple of years of knowing him and getting to know his work better, I am now a proud collector of 3 Hindi books and his 3 recently translated English books. And 2 recently signed postcards! My copy of Bahut door kitni door hota hai? has been missing for over a year now which means that I am yet to learn how that story ends. I have been tempted time and again to pick another copy and start the journey again, but I cannot let go of the hopes of finding it again, reading my annotations from a couple of years ago and then arriving at the final destination.
Maybe I don’t want to finish reading that book yet. Sometimes unfinished stories leave a better mark on us. Sometimes the idea of something is more beautiful than its reality. Sometimes we all choose to be a little delusional about the things we like. That’s okay.
After almost two years of almost meeting him, missed encounters and scheduling issues – I finally met him at his play last evening. My theatre friend tells me that this is his first solo play/performance after a long while. This time Manav tells about his mother and all the lies he told her. He tells us a story so personal and profound that it leaves your heart throbbing. With a clearer understanding of a certain feeling you’ve been experiencing for a while.
With this story, he shows us the mirror we have been avoiding, and to see things for what they are. To accept your mother for who she is and not what she does for you. To acknowledge that she has the right to be the main character in the story of her life. To understand that you can be/are an important character in her story BUT not the main one. And to be okay with the role you’ve been delegated to play.
About seventy-five minutes of a solo performance where Manav tells us about the death of Kopal’s mother. His journey back home and the beautiful flashbacks from his childhood. Kopal’s transition to adulthood, his anger with his mother and how in the end he becomes a man no better than the father he despised.
As expected, Manav leaves you with more questions than answers. With more pain than you came into the studio with. With more awareness of what roles we play in our parents’ lives. With more understanding of ourselves and those we love.
If you get a chance to watch a performance of Traasdi, you must go. Just to feel good, bad, happy, and sad within the span of seventy-five minutes.
Yesterday evening was absolutely cathartic. I had so much to talk to the author about, and so little to say. A flustered, hot (Bombay not me) mess. I am now calling it a full-body experience where I blushed more than I have in the last few years – all at once. Mildly electrocuted is how I’d like to describe it.
Alright then, see you on the other side.
Best,
Garima
P.S.: I would love to know a) if you’ve read Manav Kaul, and b) a similar experience that you’d like to share. See you in the comments!
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