Ek Madhavbaug

Late dramatist Chetan Datar left behind a rich legacy of soul-stirring and hard-hitting plays. EK MADHAVBAUG is one such gem from his repertoire. The story is simple yet complex. It is a mono act yet involves a gamut of characters. It is a mixed fare of emotions; of highs, lows, empathy and antipathy. In short, it's a stage show you cannot shake off easily, and it sticks firm in your memory.

The play opens with a Hindustani classical refrain and then the owner of Ek Madhavbaug apartment in Dadar, Mumbai introduces herself to the audience. She's a middle-aged, office-going Mumbaikar who has taken a day off on what turns out to be that fateful rainy day. As she lounges around lazily at home, gazing at the dripping skies, and frying pakoras, she's summoned by a series of annoying blank phone calls. And finally, the anonymous caller speaks up in a hoarse, rasping voice calling her youngest son a "chhakka" who has driven his own son to suicide.

Dumbstruck by this revelation about her youngest and most beloved son, she rewinds to the extra-marital affair that led to his birth and subsequently her divorce. Her youngest son is a college-going lad while the older two are settled in life. The youngest one is closest to her because he is creative and imaginative and free-thinking, quite like her. Devastated by the tip-off about her son's sexual preference she rummages through his bedroom and wardrobe to find some tell-tale signs like all men pictures hidden under his mattress and a pendant chain bearing the name of a certain Manish.

The mother is caught in an avalanche of emotional turbulence just when the youngest son saunters in. He's also taken the day off to be home with his mother. Quick to sense his mother's disturbed psyche when he presses her to reveal the reason, she lets on about the accusatory phone call. Instead of denying the allegations violently, he just hands over a CD to her saying that it's the diary he's been writing to her.