JOIN USArundhati Nag's Manjula Nayak is gloriously phlegmy. Arundhati was at her best in Girish Karnad's 'Bikhre Bimb' (in Hindi) which was staged in the city on March 22 and 23. From the moment she takes to stage in her green sari and Bata sandals, we are introduced to her repertoire of sniffling, snorting, throat-clearing excellence. It is one thing for an actor to pepper a character with peculiarity, it is quite another to successfully deploy every sniffle without ever interrupting the flow of conversation between herself and the recorded video of herself that plays on a screen hanging over the stage.
As Manjula walks across the stage, the image onscreen follows her every movement and gesture. Arundhati s timing is impeccable a miscalculation of seconds has the potential to disrupt the whole production, but it never does. Her precision with timing is particularly impressive in moments when she must speak after a long silence. In one instance, she must time her dialogue down to the very second when Manjula is to be interrupted by the Image. She must also make it look spontaneous. As Manjula begins to say, "Mein agar karti toh " the recorded Image cuts in "Aur agar tum yeh nahi kee " A collective gasp is heard in the audience.
Manjula is an ex-professor of English Literature. She writes short stories in Kannada but it is the publication of her novel in English that has made her famous. The play follows a conversation between the writer and an image of herself as they navigate questions of language, belonging, and authenticity. (Girish Karnad has often said that he was inspired to write 'Broken Images' after listening to Shashi Deshpande's defence of Indian writers who choose to write in English.)
To encounter the Image in Karnad's original English text 'Broken Images' is to be reminded of Vijay Tendulkar's Miss Leela Benare. The Image prods and provokes, quotes Wordsworth and Maurice Olender with equal familiarity, provides a brief history of English Literature as though checking items off of a grocery list. Noting Manjula's poor description of herself in the novel, the Image quips, "Eek! That odious character! Is that you? A triumph of objective self-analysis, shall we say?"
In the production, the witticisms of the image are ambushed by the screen she is restricted to. One of the most delightful bits from 'Broken Images' is a monologue that the Image delivers when an enraged Manjula seizes to respond to her questions. The same monologue delivered through a screen is devoid of its zest. One might argue that this is a fault of translation, that this often 'shudh' Hindi production 'Bikhre Bimb' is lost on a Bengaluru audience. But when the image of Shabana Azmi delivered the same monologue in the play's English production, the audience was similarly unaffected. For all her playfulness and insight, the image never really interacts with the audience.
While the interaction between Manjula and the image is brilliantly executed, one can't help but wonder what might happen if a second actor was cast as the Image. Perhaps it is time to arrive at new translations of the original 'Odakalu Bimba' to take the image from the text and allow her to walk the stage. It is not important that she resemble the writer she must not just be a face in the background.In a Bengaluru theatre, a Hindi production about a Kannada woman who writes in English receives a standing ovation. Arundhati makes the impossible look every day. It does not matter which language she does it in.