"Theatrical acting" and "method acting"!

Sivaji Ganesan was truly a legend in Tamil cinema. For any cinema buff, who lived during those decades, Sivaji was the yardstick, based on which, all other actors were measured. Once started on this topic, elders in the family waxed eloquent, “Sivaji was the most complete actor. The current day artistes cannot hold a candle to him! This is not blind fanaticism. Look at the range of roles he has played! In “Nava-ratri”, he did 9 characters in one film, each character, completely different from the other! Much later, they tried to copy the film in Hindi with a different actor. But who can match Sivaji? Sivaji is Sivaji!”

What was equally admirable, was the consistency, when it came to supporting arguments, from a Sivaji fan. It was as if, like the thespian, the fan too, followed the same script, whether it be father or any other uncle in the extended family. “In Thillana-Mohanambal, Sivaji learnt to play the nadaswaram, so that he could essay the role convincingly! Look at his finger movements, the wobble in his shoulders, and even the blood-vessel throbbing on his forehead! And when it came to the film “Mridanga-chakravarti”, he mastered the percussion instrument. His entire body language was spot-on! “Nadai-udai-bhaavanai”- in walk, in dress, in expression, he became the role! That was his forte! His portrayal of “Karna” was matchless. And when it came to the freedom fighter “veera pandiya kattabomman”, what can we say? The dialogues from the film are cinematic folklore, that give goosebumps even now!” At this point, the Sivaji fan normally drifted off to “kisthi-thirai-vari-vaddi…” Sivaji’s most iconic tete-a-tete with “Jackson Durai” in the film!

Growing up in Mumbai, we were one generation too late.  Sivaji’s “heydays” were over. Also, access to Sivaji’s films was limited. Occasionally, the Sunday afternoon “regional film” on TV was a Tamil film in which Sivaji starred. Call it generation gap, you couldn’t help, but make some observations, “He is so melodramatic. Don’t you think his emotions are a little over the top, appa?” The Sivaji fan at home interjected before you could continue further, “Yes, he comes from a theatre background. In a drama, you need to emote- to convey that “rasa” to the audience. You cannot mumble, like today’s artistes do, standing still, like a pillar or a tree! The performance must be impactful, and that’s where Sivaji was head and shoulders above all others!”

If the Sunday afternoon film was in a regional language, the Sunday evening TV slot was reserved for Bollywood. Sometimes, they played films from a previous era. Comparisons were inevitable. The superstar Dilip Kumar followed a different acting style. He was called a “method actor”. No one exactly knew what “method acting” meant. Maybe, in acting too, there was a set template that could be followed- perhaps, some “method to the madness”.

Dilip saab was from that school. As Prince Salim, in the film Mughal-e-Azam, he took on Akbar, the Great. It was truly…a clash of the titans! “Taqdeeren badal jaati hain, zamaanaa badal jaataa hai, mulkon ki taareekh badal jaati hai…”- Dilip saab’s legendary lines from the film, left its impact on an entire generation of cinemagoers.

The Sivaji fan, his pride, pricked earlier in the day, took pot-shots at this scene. “The lines are beautiful, but with due credit to Dilip Saab, he is mumbling, with no enunciation or emphasis at all! It falls completely flat. He sounds like a cricket commentator running through some rote lines like…3 slips, a gully, a short leg…! Where is the emotion, where is the emotion, I say?”

 Someone had to rush to Dilip saab’s rescue, “Yes, the emotion is “understated”. It is restrained acting, and that’s what gives it greater impact. Maybe, Salim and Akbar talked in such a matter-of-fact fashion, back then. Who knows?”

Once the film ended on Sunday night, suddenly, the dread of Monday morning and school loomed large.  Some comic relief was needed to ease the tension. We took Dilip saab’s lines and parodied how Sivaji would have rendered the same scene. Sivaji would have likely said “Taqdeeren” and stopped. He would have peppered it with a low baritone laugh, followed by “badal jaati hain”, his eyes bulging, followed by a purse of the lips, and with his arms held aloft, in a dramatic style! The dialogue would have taken forever. By then, Akbar would have given up. Anarkali would have surely given up. And Akbar would have anyway dispatched marching orders to seal Anarkali’s fate. As far as Prince Salim goes…who knows? He will still be pantomiming…in the middle of his impactful speech, oblivious to all else!

Sivaji and Dilip saab- two actors, two styles, two languages, both…legends all the same!

All Greek and Latin!

Decades ago, when we were in college, there was a student agitation. As with any unrest, it was on the verge of getting out of hand. Seniors in college tried their best to drive sense into our heads, “If the agitation continues like this, sine die ho jayega! Do you get it?”

“What did you say? What will happen?” I questioned, all puzzled. “Sine die! Sine die will happen!” the senior replied. “What is sign and die?” I asked, even more confused. “You don’t know what sine die is? Trying to act over smart, are you? Bada “phoky” ban raha hai kya?”

‘Sine die’ still did not make any sense. In the days when there was no Google baba or ChatGPT, there was no easy reference to clarify these probing doubts. But the threat of ‘sine die’ helped. We assumed sine die, to be signing one’s own death warrant. When life is threatened, discretion is the better part of valor. We went back to classes the next day. 

The following year, for the same cause, there was a repeat agitation. Classes were thrown out of gear. The ‘sine die’ brahmaastra did not work, this time around. The college authorities had no choice but to close the premises and send everyone home. Soon, a letter was dispatched to all the parents. Sitting in Mumbai, I read the letter peering over my father’s shoulder. It read, “Dear parent, we hereby inform you, that regrettably, the university is closed sine die. Please ensure that your ward does not participate in nefarious activities, that can prove detrimental to himself and his academic future.”

As father looked up with a grave expression, my reaction was instinctive, “I did not do anything! I did not do anything at all, appa! Others agitated! I simply watched!” There were 2 problems with the letter. No self-respecting young man going to college, can brook reference to himself as a “ward”. “Ward” made you look like a kindergarten kid, wearing a silly, floral shirt…with a lollipop in hand and a schoolbag over your shoulders! The kind, you would extend your hand and say, “Aye Munna! Idhar aa! Come here! Take this chocolate! Toffee ley…beta!” How can the university chancellor call me a “ward”? It wounded my self-respect to the bone.

The second problem was this reference to “sine die”. “What is ‘sine die’, Appa?” I asked. “It means that the university is closed indefinitely, with no reopening date!” father replied sternly. It was a Eureka moment. ‘Sine die’ was a simple Latin expression that meant- “without a future date being fixed”.

Anger bubbled up with this realization. They could very well have used the words “will be closed indefinitely” all along, instead of this “sine die” mumbo jumbo!  Why can’t people speak in simple English? English itself is tough to understand, and now, they confuse and confound us even more by peppering the language with Greek and Latin!

Thanks to this incident, a distaste set in…for any Latin words in English. However, the more you run, the more it pursues you. Pick up the newspaper and it says, “The supreme court has taken ‘suo motu’ cognizance of the matter”. Irritation wells up. What is suo motu? Does it mean a stout man, a “motu” in vernacular speech, a sumo wrestler perhaps?  Newspaper editorials are invariably written in Latin, or so it seems, with English words added as an afterthought. No wonder, they are unreadable. They are filled with references to “quid pro quo” and “status quo” as well as archaic expressions like “ad nauseam” and “ad infinitum”. What is worse, I recently learnt, even the simple “et cetera” is Latin!

A couple of years ago, I was at my daughter’s school for her graduation ceremony. You know how these functions go- the kind, where the new generation is extolled as the “beacon of hope for the future” and how, it is now..."their time to shine”! It ended with the expression, “carpe diem!” Everyone shouted back- “Carpe diem, Carpe diem!” So did I...all pumped up. Later, I asked my daughter, “What was that strange word towards the end? Carpe…something…kai-po-che...something?” My daughter explained, “Carpe diem means ‘to seize the moment’. It means you live in the present and make best use of the present moment! It is a Latin expression, appa!”

I squeezed my palms in exasperation! Life indeed had come a full circle!

Horn ok please!

Among unsolved mysteries, “Horn ok please”, will stay right at the top. This pithy message is painted behind every truck. We may have deciphered the hieroglyphic script in ancient Egypt. One day, the puzzle of the Mohenjo Daro script will be solved. But “horn ok please” shall continue to elude us.

We surmise “Horn ok please” must be some kind of “maha-vakya” like “tat twam asi”. We are sure the meaning is subtle and sublime. We try our best to understand the content, by re-arranging the words. Does it mean “All is ok with you? Then, please sound the horn!” Or “Is your horn ok? Then, please sound it!” Whichever way we look at it, we are dissatisfied with the outcome.

However, “horn ok please” has inspired us for generations. We’ve taken to sounding the horn, as naturally as...a fish takes to water. Sometimes, we get visitors from the US who complain, “Why is everyone honking?” We knit our eyebrows, all puzzled, and ask a counter question, “You said honking, did you? When? Where?”  “All around us! Can’t you hear?” is the retort. That’s when we align our ears to the noise and suddenly exclaim, “O yes! I hear it now! Never even realized anyone was honking!”

From the style of honking, you can gauge the mood of the person, behind the wheel. That is the beauty!  If the horn sounds with a short, crisp “beep” at each crossroad, it reflects a “cheery” person. All is good with himself and with the world around him. A person who is in a mad-rush to reach the railway station, conveys his impatience with a continuous round of “beep-beep-beep”. His intent is clear through the horn, “Get out of the way, you slobs! I have no time!”

The horn can convey “anger”. This is seen when the traffic-signal turns green and the vehicle in front, shows no urgency to start. The horn is sounded with a certain “continuum in the duration”- it is one long “beeeeep”. The horn taunts the person, “You sleepy head! Wake up! Wake up and move your car!”

The horn can indicate “frustration”. This mood is sensed when you are stuck in a traffic jam. For 45 minutes, you stay rooted to the same spot. You have no idea what the delay is due to. “When is this jam going to clear? God! I cannot take this anymore!” How do you express this intense frustration? By honking!  You honk without reason, without taking your fingers off, knowing fully well, there’s no one to hear you, or respond to your plea!

The entire gamut of human emotion, shringaara, raudra, bibhatsa…you name it, the nava-rasas can be conveyed through a simple horn.

Horns come in different flavors. In the good, old days, auto-rickshaws had a “suction-horn”. You pressed the bulbous, balloon-like object and it let out a low-pitch, strangulated yelp. Then came the inter-state buses fitted with the “electric horn”. Like “trigger-happy” goons, inter-state drivers are “honk-happy” folks. They cannot drive without sounding the horn- like taking a lick of pickle for every morsel of curd-rice. At the end of the journey, you are left with a strong headache. In some cases, the cars are fitted with a “jingle”, a popular tune that plays automatically, each time the vehicle backs up. The regularity with which the song plays, it is the perfect recipe…that soon, very soon, you will detest the song with your entire being!

All is quiet. It is 2 am. Pin drop silence. Peace and tranquility reigns. Like a blanket, the night has spread itself out, enveloping the entire world in its cozy ambit. And then, comes the anti-climax. Out of the blue, the burglar-alarm sounds from one of the parked cars. It scares the living daylights out of you. It is a high-pitched shriek, followed by a continuous “clank-clank-clank” and then, the sound goes back to the shriek. This pattern continues- “shriek-clank-clank-shriek-clank-clank”. Street dogs bark in anger. The entire neighborhood is wide-awake, some peering out of the balcony. Imagine if every car was fitted with this monstrous horn?

After 20 minutes of absolute mayhem, sanity returns. Maybe, the burglar walked away with the car. We cannot thank him enough. Maybe, the owner turned the alarm off. Maybe, a good samaritan came down with a cricket bat and broke the car down, along with its horn.

Whichever way, we are perfectly fine...and go back to sleep!

Hydrate yourself!

“Hydrate yourself” is a popular mantra. We see it everywhere- on social media, in the newspapers, in the self-help books and even on the flight. “Be sure to drink 6-8 glasses of water each day!” is a uniform piece of advice. Sometimes, more details are added, “Warm water, on an empty stomach, first thing in the morning, is preferable”. And at times, “A pinch of jeera added to the water cleanses the entire system.”

When paparazzies send us pictures of our favorite actors and actresses going to the gym, an unmissable accessory, is the fancy water-bottle in their hands. It is an immediate reminder to hydrate ourselves.

The importance of this advice is undeniable. It is the implementation that faces challenges. Imagine if I drank a gallon of water and started for my office. Midway through the journey, stuck in traffic at Silk-Board junction, for over 45 minutes, what will I do? I may have to abandon the car forthwith...and run to the restroom!  

Back then, in the good, old, days…the train ride from Mumbai to Roorkee took 36 hours (on paper). Using the train-restroom was not for the faint-hearted. A bio-break had to wait till you reached the university. “Hydrate yourself” had to be tempered with more practical concerns.

Executives from the US, when they travel to India, are notorious in following “hydrate yourself” to an extreme. Maybe, they fear that the Indian heat will consume them. When this executive visits the office in India, he is armed with a plastic water-bottle. As he sits in the meeting, every few seconds, he takes a swig from the bottle.  In no time, he has finished off a bottle, and reached out for another. That done, he reaches out for the third.

You keep staring at him with a growing sense of alarm. You feel like telling him, “Dude! They say…Sage Agastya drank the entire ocean. At least, Agastya was considerate and drank only ocean water. If you consume fresh water like this, what will remain for the rest of us? In your country, you have the Great-Lakes. But, mister, remember, you are in India! We have 1.4 billion people here. All of us rely on the vagaries of the monsoon. At this rate, you will deplete the entire water table. Have some mercy on us!”

The office-boy steps into the meeting room with a fresh stock of water-bottles. You feel like lashing out at him, “As it is, this man is sucking the Kaveri River dry. And you are adding more bottles? Have some common sense please!”  This time, you pocket a bottle, even if you aren’t going to touch it. At least, one bottle can be saved from the other’s clutches!

The mind is filled with more creative strains of thought. You are suddenly reminded of the camel. You wonder, “Maybe, he thinks…he must drink all the water today, because he may not get water tomorrow!” You want to calm him down and assure him, “Mister! Don’t worry! You will get water tomorrow also to “hydrate yourself”. By God’s grace, there is still some punya left in this land. You need not drink all the water now and store it in your hump, like a camel!”

Imagination runs riot. By now, you can spot a hump growing on his back, as he empties another bottle. You wonder if he will have only one hump like the Indian camel, or 2 humps like the Central-Asian camel. Soon, you can no longer see the person in the meeting-room. His place is taken over by a camel. The more you look, more features seem to match.

The corners of your mouth curl up into an impish smile and a giggle almost escapes the mouth. By now…the meeting room…the meeting...the problem under discussion…the pros and cons of the proposed solution…everything has been wiped out...clean...from the mind’s canvas!

Suddenly, I hear my name. It is my manager’s voice. He asks a pointed question, “Shankar, what is your opinion on this? How long will it take to implement this solution?” The directness of the question breaks the reverie. When you are caught napping, it is tough to give a coherent answer immediately.

I take my time. I open the cap of the water-bottle slowly, hydrate myself, clear my throat, and wear a pensive look. “Well, the solution is good, but we need to deep-dive more...into the details,” is my non-committal reply, as I take another sip.

 

 

 

"Onion color sari"..and the world of colors!

We can understand if there is disagreement related to the recent Indian-budget or over the US presidential candidate. These are complicated topics and subject to interpretation. Surprisingly, even a topic as commonplace as the ‘world of colors’, there is such divergence- of both opinion and nomenclature.

“I like this white-color dress,” you mention at the clothes shop. “Actually, this is not white, this is off-white!” you hear back. The next time you go shopping, you are alert. “I like this off-white dress!” “You mean the cream-colored one?” asks the salesman. You get it now?  The vocabulary changes, with subtle variations in the same color. From “white”, you travel to “off-white”, from “off-white” to “cream”, from “cream” to “peach” and from “peach” …to grandma’s version called “biscuit-color”!  I like grandma’s version the best- it is clear, and we know exactly what color it is.

A visit to the sari-shop is an excellent opportunity to learn your colors all over again. “Look at this new sari- It is kanchivaram silk and in ‘Rama’s-green’ (raamar-pachhai)!”  says the salesman. What is this “Rama’s-green”? For the uninitiated, while the rest of India thinks Lord Rama’s skin-tone is blue, in South-India, especially in Tamil Nadu, Rama’s skin-tone is green. When the dashaavataara dolls are brought out during Navaratri, Rama’s idol stands out. He is truly “aprameya”- his color defies easy classification. Some call it peacock-blue, others call it peacock-green, but women understand it perfectly. When they say “raamar-pachhai sari”, they know exactly what color it is!

When women refer to sari-colors, the colors are expressed in terms of well-known objects. This ensures all women are on the same page and there is absolutely no confusion. A dark-brown sari is called “coffee-color sari”. If the border of the sari is reddish-brown, it is called “arakku border sari” (color of ‘lac’). If the sari is "shocking-pink", you call it “mutai color” (“mithai color”) or alternately as “rose color”, if the shade is lighter. Colors with complicated names like “lavender” are a total no-no. A sari in lavender is easily described by the term “onion-color sari”. (Of course, when someone says onion-color sari, you often wonder if the sari will inherit the smell too!) If it is yellow, it becomes “chandana-color sari”, the color of sandalwood. And if it is orange, it becomes “saamanti color”, the color of marigold flowers. And if there are multiple colors, it is easy- it is simply called a “color-color sari”! If the sari is in today’s much touted “pastel shades”, in earlier times, you made a face and kept it aside, saying, “romba dull adikaradhu” (it is too dull and unsightly)!

For centuries, women have successfully communicated (among themselves), colors and their subtle differences with this easy classification model. Now, let’s take men (only men could have come up with these names), for their car colors. “Burgundy”, “Beige”, “Rust”, “Teal Metallic” and “Sand”- are some common car colors. What do these color-codes convey to the common man? Zilch! Also, compared to the rich hues in the world of saris, cars have got stuck to a tiny palette of nondescript colors. We await the day when we will have a “chandana color car” to break out of this monotony.

In India, you find reference to some colors that are unique to its cultural milieu. The matrimonial columns advertise prospective bride/grooms as “wheat colored”. It is amazing. We can visualize an entire person through a single grain of wheat! (Perhaps, this is what William Blake meant when he wrote, “to see the world in a grain of sand”). Later, when these families met, we surmise, they carried some wheat grains in the pocket, and carefully checked the person against the grain, to ensure the description was accurate, and they weren’t taken for a ride!

In South-India, after attending a wedding, you often had to describe the bride and the groom to family members who couldn’t attend the function. In today’s day and age, the topic would be construed as “lacking sensitivity”. However, in the past, conversation was easy and direct. For the groom, you borrowed the English word, “personality”. You typically said, “The boy has an impressive personality” (“paiyyan…nalla ‘personality’ aa irukaan” in Tamil). And for the bride, the expression was- “impressive color” (“ponnu…nalla color”)!  

You didn’t have to cross-question, “Which color? Did you mean red or green or yellow?” Everyone understood. “Personality” and “color”, with their contextual meanings here, said it all…clearly and unambiguously!