Madhuri Shekhar's 'A Nice Indian Boy.'

Here is the best thing I can say about how good the play 'A Nice Indian Boy' was: that I went to see it twice. 

The first time, on Valentine's Day, on my own, because it was rated PG-13 and because we have no friends or babysitters here yet that we can request taking care of our kids while we take some time on our own -- like a normal, parental couple would. So Melvin's Valentine's Day gift for me was to drop me off at Victory Gardens, take the kids for a treat in a nearby bakery and pick me up again after the show.  So pushing the guilt aside, I grabbed a 'Mumbai mule' from the lovely bar downstairs at Victory Gardens and headed up to the show -- telling myself that I love live theatre and it keeps me sane and connected in my isolated 'all work and no play' (pun intended) world.

It was quickly obvious that the play's PG-13 rating does not apply to Melvin's or my values and sensibilities and that this could have been a family outing for us. Adding to my regret was the fact that another extended family in the audience had brought along some kids -- and at least two appeared to be of my girls' ages (pre-teens). Two more appeared to be in their teens. I texted to my family during intermission that we are coming back again. Together.  Melvin's response was 'huh?' 

So we went back again yesterday-- February 15th.  I gave a crash course to my kids on DDLJ (which is referred to quite a bit in some scenes), Mumbai's cosmopolitan Marathis, Ganesha, Indian stereotypes, parental magnanimity, sibling rivalry, sibling love and support, liberal values, first generation immigrant parents' idiosyncracies, second generation's insularity, first generation's expectations of second generation's behaviors towards them. And finally, the elephant in the room and it is what you think (if you clicked on the link above) but it is also not what you think.  It is not even Ganesha who as a deity has a huge presence in the play.  It is the Indian's expectations about who is a true or a good, natural-born Indian and this little-discussed -- perhaps light-hearted but perhaps not -- reverse "discrimination". I also told them not to be shy about a very explicit kissing scene, putting it in context thus: "I allow you to watch Western movies where men kill men with one fast-drawn gun. If you are allowed to watch that, you can see this without any doubt."  I warned them that on a couple occasions they will hear some swear words -- but nothing that they haven't already heard on their school grounds or from my mouth when I am really mad about something. (Yes, so I said it out loud and publicly. Now flog me.)  Whether the crash course helped or not, I cannot be sure; whether the kids followed every dialog or understood every issue, of that too I cannot be sure (my kids' ages range from 8 to 12). But of this I am sure: that the big-picture impact of this beautiful, sensitive, witty, clever play will only make them more self-assured Indian American children and better human beings overall. That the play emphasizes the triumph of love and mutual respect for all -- whether separated by race, community or sexual orientation -- and by all -- whether by parents or progeny; brown or white -- is what they would ultimately remember. Of that I am sure. 

The California-based playwright Madhuri Shekhar (Chennai roots) appears to be talented and extremely insightful. All the actors were amazing -- but Alka Nayyar and Kamal Hans, even more so. Perhaps, they were just a tad older and much more experienced as actors, but they commanded the stage, even more so than the actors who played the younger characters (Kaiser Ahmed, Riley McIlveen, Suzan Faycurry).  

If you have a chance to see this Rasaka Theatre production, please do so.  Or better still, perform this play in your local community.  It is a lovely, lovely play.  

Director, Anna Bahow, on the play and the playwright: 'A Nice Indian Boy' is a romantic comedy with familiar tropes -- that are anything but familiar when immigrant assimilation collides with the adoption of a foreign heritage. The play challenges our traditioal concepts of ethnicity ad marriage. Shekhar has such respect for her characters and the humor is generous to all.  
          

FOR SALE

For sale the farmer advertised

the best bred of his stock.

And so he spread the news around.

The news travelled fast.

From far and near the buyers came

to see his red roan cow.

"Her pedigree's unimpeachable", he said.

"There's no doubting that

in the prime of life

giving gallons of milk,

many calves too she will bear.

Yet when she's old

She'll have so much beef

An army she may feed.

Her skin is of the softest roan

no factory can refuse…"

And so the farmer prattled on

the quality of his stock.

My son's of age the farmer thought

the eldest of his brood.

And so he spread the word around.

The news travelled fast.

From far and near the brokers came

of brides-to-be to speak.

"She's a homely type", one broker said.

"I assure you that

of flawless skin, the divine shape,

a house too she can keep.

A pleasure to behold

Yet ever so strong,

many robust sons she'll bear

of talented mein, with house worth lakhs,

jewels and farmland too she'll bring;

no thinking man'll resist…"

And so the broker prattled on

the quality of his stock.

"Why is this so" a daughter asks,

"that we be bought and sold?"

And soon she passed the message around.

The news traveled fast.

From far and near the women came

to see what could be done.

"We'll meet with hostility first," said one.

"We should recognize that

With bricks and bats and this and that

 they'll try to keep us down.

 We're human beings with brains and mind

and not just household slaves.

No more for us as dressed up dolls

and beings to bear more heirs.

We're through with being just mindless beings

whom man cannot resist…"

And so the women vowed to rise:

No more would they be stock.

By Malathi Raghavan 1984-85

The act of touching others' feet

Watching an old Tamil movie clip on Youtube the other day, I was once again witnessing the grace and humility with which most women kneel or prostrate in front of their husband's feet.

This is what I wrote as a comment on Sepia Mutiny's blog a few years ago on the art of prostrating:

I come from a very irreverent family. As far as I know, 3 generations of my kin have not lowered or bent their spines for another human; not once. So as an outsider looking in on adult-children expressing their love, gratitude and respect for their parents (or gurus, as in Bharatnatyam gurus or aged tuition-masters), I cannot help but wonder if I am missing out on a very unique and beautiful expression of the parent-child (or guru-sishya) relationship. When done right, the gesture is akin to an art form; the body expresses so much: complete surrender of the ego, near-rapturous attention, utter devotion.

Of course, not everyone is picture-perfect enough to feed my romantic notions of this tradition. Some, especially the men, are as stiff and awkward as I will be if pushed onto the catwalk and expected to sashay in a seductive manner in front of hundreds of strangers.

In my circle, the only times I get to witness similar uninhibited, gracious public displays of highly-esteemed relationships are when the adults are interacting with cuddly toddlers, brand new loves, potted plants and furry pets. And not necessarily in that order.