Were I not an atheist I might have been led to believe that spirits inhabit Jyoti Dogra's body, or at least that's the feeling one may get seeing her character transitions in her recent, devised performance- NOTES ON CHAI. On a more serious note, the solo artist, who has been experimenting with her body and voice, is not afraid to show herself as an actor who has homogenised her rehearsal space and the performance space. She could be rehearsing or she could be performing.
In NOTES ON CHAI, the uncommon performer builds on her show, taking inspiration from tea- the ubiquitous beverage that is not without its many associations and the feelings it inspires, depending on where you are and who is talking about it. But this may have just been the starting point for Dogra who otherwise seeks to delve deeper into the physiognomy and the psychology of the characters she plays. As the performance proceeds, it is less and less about the wonders of 'chai' as it is about the people who have caught Dogra's imagination.
These characters range from a woman in Mathura, an old Punjabi woman, at least two male characters and a woman who comes across as a socialite. Not surprisingly, these characters, perhaps with the exception of the socialite, an urbanite, who might just be found anywhere, are distinctly from North India- more specifically from Delhi and its environs, places that are perhaps most familiar to the actress. So even while she locates some of the situations in Mumbai, the Dilli-Punjabi accents are never lost.
On the one hand with her range being strictly limited, causing repetition, there is also a reduction in terms of what the performer has sought to highlight about her characters. Playing on their most obvious traits the characters come across as caricatures. Their insecurities and their idiosyncrasies are only superficially explored. They come across as a 'type' that is mimicked rather than for the nuanced realities they otherwise may be capable of portraying. Barring the inveterate laughs that are a routine feature with sections of the audience at almost any English play in Mumbai today, lacking in any actual empathy or sensitivity, such characterisations also tend to reinforce stereotypes.
Yet somewhere between the obvious and the unexplored, there are moments of recognition and humour. Dogra has been able to latch onto rhythms that become an unconscious part of our speech. She plays on them, creating resonance. Towards the end, as if seeking to justify her unfamiliar kind of performance, her woman from Mathura considers this to be an odd show and not the play that could have made her 'happy'. It is here, like elsewhere in the performance that you see in the crevices, the gnawing doubts of the artist who must clarify her enterprise.
Jyoti Dogra's command on her handpicked characters is strong; she is a mature actress. In this show she has virtually donned the skin of the people she performs- her transitions are so complete that it is eerie. Yet this quality is constrained by its gambit that is more lampoon than subtle.
In spite of its limitations, we have the privilege of becoming part of an artist's intimate journey as she reinvents performance from her vantage point, collapsing the boundaries between her, her performance and her audience.
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