Portraits

A new school play!

I worked with my students from Goa on a completely devised and patchwork performance that was based on a lovely crossing of paths with Deepa from Pipilika and her friend; and their unbelievable two-month long cycling journey from Delhi To Auroville without phones or wallets!

A lot more details soon, but in short, it was a smash! Thank you to Deepa, and especially the brilliant teachers and kids who helped me put this together for our annual drama show.

First Draft : Idea Development Lab

“Saudamini works as a writer-director and performer in the arts, and as co-founder of the Meat Puppet Company. She also conducts theatre-based workshops with children and adults and writes reviews of theatre as a member of the International Association of Theatre Critics (IATC). Her work tends to be about isolated subjects dealing with bizarre predicaments – always inspired by life as we know it. She is currently working on a series of performances based on workplace experiences.”

Indian Ensemble, the erstwhile theatre company, had been a formidable name in the avenue of Indian theater for quite a few years. It was certainly exciting to be invited to become part of their Writer’s Lab, and later as part of the company, Chanakya Vyas led the writer’s lab and, under his guidance, I experienced some wonderful writing exercises and philosophies that are with me to this day. It is not for nothing that he is a regular fixture in The Drama School Mumbai faculty team.

Indulging in such a structured, disciplined, and hands on lab process of creation has a lot to do with why Seb Ke Beej has become my favorite and most personal writing achievement so far.

A session in progress, held at a well-wisher’s farm-stay just outside Bengaluru. 2020.

"Seb Ke Beej" and the Identified Patient (IP)

In my play, Seb Ke Beej - we follow many parallel lives and one of these is that of Betaji, the son battling with a family struggling with changing economic times as well as the internal battles of a largely male household struggling with the shame regarding mental illness.

In my research of this work, I came across the very useful term of the “Identified Patient”. Identified Patient is a term used to refer to that family member, usually a young member of the family, who is identified as the one “acting out” or the “troublemaker”. This is an opposition to seeing the family going through conflict as a whole. These are the ones termed the “blacksheep” or the “scapegoat”, often being the first one to seek therapy or support in a stigma-filled environment. A primary example is parents or spouses bringing their child or other spouse to therapy or even family resolving matters, as the one to be “fixed”.

Becoming an “Identified Patient” can leave deep and detrimental scars on the psyche of the IP. It’s like when you have a lousy day at work and come home to yell at your partner about it, or in even worse cases, blame your partner for the things going on in your life which they have no control over.

Some of these relational topics find home in my play.

Workshop Alert!

Online workshop alert! If there are any teenagers who you think will benefit from this, please help them sign up.

PS if you know some teens who would like to do this but can't sign up due to whatever constraint, please do message me privately.

Register here -

https://insider.in/performing-the-quarantine-a-masterclass-in-online-theatre-making-for-teenagers--aug10-2020/event

New Update!

Happy to finally announce that I have now joined the wonderful team at Indian Ensemble as Associate Director. So much exciting new work already on the cards that I will be sharing over the next few months. For now, just joy.

un ciel bleu

Un ciel bleu au-dessus de moi
L'herbe verte sous mes pieds
C'est la vie que j'ai choisie pour moi
Les souvenirs se fondent dans des pots en terre cuite

A new workshop!

Saudamini Kalra is conducting a 2 months theatre workshop for kids - "Ikwi Libri Umm". A theatre and movement based workshop to promote creativity, empathy and kindness in our bright new generation.

Pls msg us to know about "Ikwi Libri Umm" on 9326413151

image courtey Neena Percy

The captivating magic of Tennessee Williams' "The Two Character Play"

It has been a while since I was able to dig my teeth into this play, but the joy and fascination remains. And in particular, besides the joy of experiencing wonderful comradeship in this one, the beauty of the idiom of Tennessee Williams’ pen has held me captivated. I had read “A Streetcar Named Desire” in college and seen videos of the cinematic adaptations of “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof”, but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer force by which “The Two Character Play” would enrapture my senses.

I was introduced to the play first by my director, Gurleen Judge. She presented it to me as a play close to her heart for various reasons, and like her, I immediately fell in love with it. Though now I do feel that both me and my co-actor Humhu were too young at that hit the darker notes, I will still try to express what I felt.

What struck me first was the high level of poetry. I had never quite seen language be molded in this way. That Williams was a fanatic for the magical in human relationships and a beautiful escapist from reality is well known, but in him I found a kind of humor and gravity that took my breath away. The influence of the church and biblical ritual was distilled so beautifully of its insanity until only the sheer poetic and beautiful remained. It was like falling in love with a make-believe country with rituals of the stage.

Now that I am a three-plays-old playwright, I can say that Williams was a key influence in helping me mark the transition as a writer from the “right” kind of work to writing that is personal, vulnerable, and rooted in my skin. Mr Williams struck me as the kind of writer who kicked himself several times when a metaphor went just a little too far or a pause lasted just a little longer than need. People say Pinter is the king of the “pause” but they clearly haven’t read TTCP.

The constant back and forth between brother and sister; the clever dance of repartee between two seasoned thespians; it all makes for such good theatre.

Here is a small, sweet and simple musically charged bit that I particularly enjoyed delivering as Clare, to give my readers a taste :

This Is The End / Is This The End?

You and I are pilgrims 

worshiping at the pyre of our pasts

We use each other's bodies as shovels 

to dig old skeletons out

Sometimes I wonder if we're just digging our own graves

We are countries with lost borders

so we keep spilling out of maps

We're magicians entranced by our own tricks

our styles too subtle for our own good

Our hearts are balloons filled to bursting

but too light to keep us planted in the moment

We're in constant flight and going nowhere

I collide into you you collide into me

and then we part, like waves, only to meet and repeat 

I sing in falsetto and you pretend I'm in key

You dance too slow for my taste but I still let you lead

I sleep in your arms because they are warm with sin

You don't ask me why, you're just happy to give in

You live like a corpse, I'm dying in my dreams

The end is in sight, and now it begins

A Close Call

All of eleven or twelve

He spends his day weighing

grains of rice

pretending it was a game

but sometimes it’s not as easy His eyes are red with boredom

His youthful joy and genius

being spent on cigarette maths,

memorizing different juice brands

and getting yelled at for being

distracted, overwhelmed, imperfect, lost in thought

in other words, a kid

I grab at a packet of chips without a second thought

Twisting at the threads of my laughable anxieties

“The red ones are better, for just ten rupees more

For you it is nothing. Oh, but you don’t care.”

I stare at him. Something in me turns to lead and can’t move

I’m transfixed by his unplanned moment of wisdom

I want to peel him away from this sunny, metallic shed

and launch him into the air like a rocket, a beam, an orbiting star

I want him to rise and grow and become himself

and I want him to laugh as he looks back

at distant, hazy memories of hopeless afternoons

and exclaim that it was a close call

Post show-thoughts

I have been performing on stage in one way or another for nearly six years now. I remember the first time I went on stage in college. It was electrifying. There is nothing that makes you feel quite as alive as acting in the theatre. I’ve done some pretty crazy things to feel alive so I really mean this.

But today. Today was something else. I didn’t try to be good on stage today. I was there to serve my own purposes. I did it purely for myself. Being on stage is quite a personal experience for me and something I have difficulty explaining to anyone, but today being on stage really felt like something I didn’t just do for fun, it felt like a need.

I was on stage today because the stage understands me and loves me as its own. It’s a parallel universe, like a dream, where the drudgery and mediocrity of real life isn’t allowed to enter. Things on the stage follow a fascinating sequence and the end is always at a climax.

And I was on stage because I love being part of a cast - a team of trained liars, who run, sing, dance,laugh, fall, cry, argue and do whatever the hell else it takes to bring the audience to its feet. People glorify leads but working in an ensemble can be fucking exciting.

And I was on stage today-most of all-because the stage feels like home, it always has.

Mumbai

I’m walking backwards in a city that is speeding ahead as if there was a gun to its head. I have pains and aches from running in opposition to the wind. I’m pulling back when it is trying to propel me forward. I’m becoming arrogant. Your absence is giving me the strength to be bad. It is a bad influence on me; tempting me to burn bridges, break channels, and build unsanctioned walls that are higher than most birds will dare to fly. I laugh into imaginary ears just to vex sanity a bit.

Munsoon

The pussycat is sorry

for the ink on the steps

the little cat is sorry

paw prints apprentice

it wasn't her idea

rain time activity

but she can't deny it

that she was stoked just to try it

pussycat is sorry

watch your step as you step

Optimism

There is a tiny little pouch in my stomach

Half-full of optimism

There is a pin-prick hole in my skull

That lets the sun in

There is an old, rusty spring

Barely clinging on to the soles of my feet

These aren’t everything, but they are a start

Maybe I won’t change the world today,

maybe I’ll change the sheets