Kochana Mamo,
Sometimes writings should be coherent streams of words but sometimes there is a need for them to be just a series of loose digressions stitched together with invisible thread of thoughts.
Mom... Thank you for always being there... You were the only person who watched all my videos and read every single word i had written. It did not matter that you couldn't understand it all, what mattered was your presence. You were there, while others satisfied themselves with seeing my face on a poster, in a interview or with telling me that I should write for a newspaper. Do you remember how you were ill in last months and I was getting ready for a performance at university and you would come down sometimes to sit with me and I was explaining to you what 'abhinaya' is? What is the meaning of my padam... Thank you for being present there...
Mom... I was thinking few days back that Shakespeare must have had bipolar disorder too... Only a sanely mad person could have said that "All the world is a stage... " Mom... How many roles do we have to play and how difficult it becomes sometimes....
Mom... Can I tell you a story? I'm not sure how much of it will you take as a metaphor, how much as my memory but you see...
Father always loved circus, so when I was a child I have always been forced to accompany him to watch a circus performance, Just like I was forced to collect stamps when I was six, while all i wanted to do was to give an exam to a ballet school but 'my daughter is not going to make her living by shaking her leg'.... but that's another story... i'm digressing in my digression... I hated going to the circus with father.... it always made me sad... I felt so sad and sorry for the lion that had to jump through the wheel of fire, bears that had to walk on 2 feet and elephants with chained legs.... People were laughing at the clowns throwing cakes at each other, falling on stage, getting stuck with one foot inside the bucket and i felt like crying and I wanted to get up from my seat and run to the stage and help them get up from the floor... Somehow I could never laugh at them and always felt so sorry for them... as if their falls were my own... I liked some of the performances though - the jugglers, the woman with a spine of a snake...
Mom... I'm thinking a lot about idioms and metaphors these days... It's a story that I had told you long time back.... but if I were to search for a metaphor for heart it would be a tiny green teddy bear of a smell of vanilla...
Mom... I know that I keep coming back to a boring topic of Water station once again, but you see... it taught me a lot... Just like now i'm learning a lot about languages and multiple readings... but that play taught me about the set construction..... it taught me how to put bolts and nuts together while working on the set... and the english classes i'm taking are teaching me about the beauty of stormy weather..... but I designed my own umbrella for the performance.... i stitched my old flower dress on top of it and painted it green - my safety net of green trees and flowers around me.... would have loved you to see the pictures.....
Kochana Mamo.... I'm tired... good night...
Sometimes writings should be coherent streams of words but sometimes there is a need for them to be just a series of loose digressions stitched together with invisible thread of thoughts.
Mom... Thank you for always being there... You were the only person who watched all my videos and read every single word i had written. It did not matter that you couldn't understand it all, what mattered was your presence. You were there, while others satisfied themselves with seeing my face on a poster, in a interview or with telling me that I should write for a newspaper. Do you remember how you were ill in last months and I was getting ready for a performance at university and you would come down sometimes to sit with me and I was explaining to you what 'abhinaya' is? What is the meaning of my padam... Thank you for being present there...
Mom... I was thinking few days back that Shakespeare must have had bipolar disorder too... Only a sanely mad person could have said that "All the world is a stage... " Mom... How many roles do we have to play and how difficult it becomes sometimes....
Mom... Can I tell you a story? I'm not sure how much of it will you take as a metaphor, how much as my memory but you see...
Father always loved circus, so when I was a child I have always been forced to accompany him to watch a circus performance, Just like I was forced to collect stamps when I was six, while all i wanted to do was to give an exam to a ballet school but 'my daughter is not going to make her living by shaking her leg'.... but that's another story... i'm digressing in my digression... I hated going to the circus with father.... it always made me sad... I felt so sad and sorry for the lion that had to jump through the wheel of fire, bears that had to walk on 2 feet and elephants with chained legs.... People were laughing at the clowns throwing cakes at each other, falling on stage, getting stuck with one foot inside the bucket and i felt like crying and I wanted to get up from my seat and run to the stage and help them get up from the floor... Somehow I could never laugh at them and always felt so sorry for them... as if their falls were my own... I liked some of the performances though - the jugglers, the woman with a spine of a snake...
Mom... I'm thinking a lot about idioms and metaphors these days... It's a story that I had told you long time back.... but if I were to search for a metaphor for heart it would be a tiny green teddy bear of a smell of vanilla...
Mom... I know that I keep coming back to a boring topic of Water station once again, but you see... it taught me a lot... Just like now i'm learning a lot about languages and multiple readings... but that play taught me about the set construction..... it taught me how to put bolts and nuts together while working on the set... and the english classes i'm taking are teaching me about the beauty of stormy weather..... but I designed my own umbrella for the performance.... i stitched my old flower dress on top of it and painted it green - my safety net of green trees and flowers around me.... would have loved you to see the pictures.....
Kochana Mamo.... I'm tired... good night...
