Honestly,
I have never watched any stage plays. Well, just a couple maybe. Never had the
luxury, never had the time. But in the past few months, I’ve been witness to
two productions by IIMACTS… and trust me, I’m hooked for life. No brownie
points for guessing that they are the theatrical society at IIM A. Their latest
production, Ilhaam, which roughly translates to 'Inspiration', got me thinking…
The
story of a middle-aged man, known to the world as Bhagwan, the play beautifully portrays the constant tussle between
myth and reality, order and chaos, the said and the unsaid. The play must’ve
meant different things to different people. For me, it symbolises the travails
of being different, of not confirming to society, of finally achieving the enlightenment
one only hopes and prays and begs for. It symbolises the greatest irony of our
life, when even though we profess uniqueness, we are infinitely scared of
everything that is different.
Simply put, the play depicts the constant
struggle of the mind to be free of all bounds, yet its fear of letting go… The
play had it all, it made me cry, it made me fret, made me fear contentment… I
sank to the ground with Bhagwan, I
danced in step with him.
Ilhaam
also gave me food for thought. I could identify with the protagonist at so many
levels. Have we never taken decisions that would help us fit in with the crowd?
Are we not afraid of looking at things anew? Afraid of challenging what is
established? From deciding on what to wear, right up till what profession to
choose… all our decisions are dictated by the societal norms. I’d be lying if I
claim that these choices have never been thrust upon me. Though choices make us
feel like masters of our own destiny, but are we really free to choose?
One
of the most poignant moments of the play was when Bhagwan loses his ability to communicate with the outside world. He
is happy as long as he inhabits his own utopia… he lovingly chides a bird, has
heart-to-heart conversations with a speech-impaired beggar. However, his sheer
frustration and fear at not being able to talk to his family, at not being able
to get his message across, at seeing his own kids run away from him with
terrified shrieks… it is enough to make even the strong-hearted cry. His agony
is beyond words. Have we never felt the same helplessness? Have we never felt
as if we’re being pulled down under… a leaden weight tied to our ankle… pulling
us in the murky depths of the plain and the ordinary? Has our soul never
thirsted for the novel? Mine has… and it has felt the same anguish as the
protagonist did.
The
scene where he takes his “medicine” tugged at my heart. He knows that it hurts
him, knows that it numbs his true senses… but he still bears the agony. His
love for his family is his sole guiding light. It is his motivation, his
destination. The way he reasons with himself over why he needs to take that
medicine is akin to how we pacify ourselves when we let go of something that we
truly desire. It is how we fool our mind into believing that All is Well (Yes,
3 Idiots).
However,
the one thing that I’ll forever remember the play for is the protagonist’s
dance. The slow foot movements, with the sudden jerks up towards the sky, as if
the soul wants to break free from all shackles of society… it made my heart
melt. It was in that one moment that I truly understood what my struggle is all
about.
As
I close this post, I find myself humming it…yet again.
