Can’t think of a name…

Monday, April 14, 2008

12:32 AM

I miss being in Dhaka now. What am I doing here, anyway? Yes, yes, to start a new life…to mend the pieces of a not-at-all-broken relationship…blah blah and so much more…what am I supposed to do now? What’s the use of building castles in the air, feeling pseudo-important for the pseudo-potentials I may possess? Am I an exceptional writer? No. Am I a great artist? No. Am I a wonderful poet? No. I only write some stupid monologues, even if they are thousand times better than the ones written by Sourav (see Theatron X later), but lousy nonetheless…

Had been to Khardah in the afternoon…A wonderful play just started when it started to rain really hard…and the same hailstorm that I saw at about this time of the year in Canberra last year…My life is becoming a metaphorical intellectual montage…thanks to Eisenstein…I call it serendipity…though this has nothing to do with Battleship Potemkin’s “assaulted workers=slaughtered bull”…but somehow it’s got to be real life montage…

The good thing about small places is the familiarity among people…and the bicycles…small places almost always have bicycles…and your first crush’s house is always a stone throw away, and the woman of the house can be seen cooking through the window of the kitchen…and people know the local train schedules by heart…there’s a sweetness in the ladies who are in love…and a warmth in the hearts of the men in love…and yes, they do good theatre…it’s a breath of fresh air after you have been suffocated with the awfully written script of Theatron X.

YES…THEATRON X SUCKS…I am happy to say this out aloud…bad script, bad scriptwriter, bad direction, bad actors…and hence bad theatre…there’s nothing unique about this group and there’s nothing to learn from them except the lesson that never do bad theatre! It’s bad for your theatrical health…