(Continuation of part 1 - read Part 1 here)
A few weeks before, I finally managed to catch a play at the prestigious Y. B. Chavan centre at Colaba. It was three short experimental plays back to back which were entangled to each other by a story from Indian mythology. The reason why I got to know about the play was that Mr. Bach's nephew, an astonishingly handsome young man, was the manager for the event. During the days that I spent with Mr. Bach, I got to hang out with him and during our conversations, I stumbled on to the fact that he was into theatre.
I have a friend amongst the gay-bois, someone that I rather respect (as compared to the vast majority of other who, I think, are really flaky, childish and boring when it comes to enjoying, discussing and reviewing art) who accompanied me to the play. For me, the naive, novice art-lover who devours art in every which form that is presented to him without paying heed to the quality , the play was an enchanting experience. My friend liked it too, but not as much as me. I came to know from Mr. Bach's nephew (through Mr. Bach) that the play was supposedly full off forgotten lines and bloopers and that my observations were foolish and invited ridicule.
Within a couple of days, I found myself watching another play with this same friend. This time it was another fantasy-fairy tale, another experimental play written and performed by people from various walks of life (young professionals who had a penchant for theatre). It was a hindi play with very poetic, romantic lines which were marked with words which were rather dormant in the streets. The acting was average and I thought the set was rather unprofessional too. Again, the romantic, fanatic, fantasy-st in me took over and enjoyed the play despite it's extreme length. This time though, my friend was very critical about the play and commented that I was so 'uneducated' about art that I would love anything that I was presented to.
One of the days when Mr. Bach was around, I had to spend an afternoon all by myself as he was busy running some last-minute errands before his trip. That afternoon, I walked over to the JJ school of Arts and met T., E-boi's girlfriend. It was a great experience because of the sheer surprise element for both of us. She took me for a tour in the campus and showed me the sculpting studio. It was so beautiful despite them being done by amateurs (students) but I could feel myself getting attracted to art more and more.
Apart from these, two of my 'dates' in the last few months have been painters and sculptors. One, a good friend of mine, has invited me to his studio and shown me his wonderful series of paintings which he's working on. Each of them has a silhouette of a person or object in black ink in a background (in a single color). He explained to me his ideas and they seemed to profound to me and I'm sure the alcohol or the prospect of sex did not tamper my judgment in any way. Another one, with whom I have just spent a few hours together talking is a painter and is a retired dean of a prestigious art school. He tried to open my eyes and mind up to the world of art by telling me about how to appreciate art - by having a clean slate or an open mind.
I feel proud to have so many friends, each acquired through life's weird interconnections, who have helped me come closer to the various versions of art in the last few months. I'm thankful to all of them for making it such a pleasure for me and I hope that this journey gets more enchanting in the years to come.
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