Written and Directed : Dipankar Sen Cast : Arindam Ganguly, Nayana, Chiranjit, Suneet, Sasrik, Devapriya, Sampurna, Varnali, Vijay, Sannith, Sayantani, Tulika and Dipankar Sen
RONGCHONGE MUHURTORA Review
Does life inform the stage, or does the stage shape our perceptions of life? Durgapur Bhimroti's latest play RONGCHONGE MUHURTORA (Colourful Moments) subtly investigates these theoretical undercurrents by questioning whether life imitates theater or the stage mirrors hidden human truths. Dipankar Sen, whose earlier production "Protiproshno," inspired by Netflix's "Criminal," delved boldly into the scars of sexual harassment within a sharply stylized police interrogation, returns to familiar yet uniquely haunting territory: the city of Kolkata itself. But this time, he becomes enmeshed in an underground metro station and turns his attention to the archaic and decaying city. Sen's nuanced theatrical exploration in his new play staged by Durgapur Bhimroti at Kolkata's Academy of Fine Arts is a paraphernalia of hustling-performative moments.
A 90-minute play without an interval, RONGCHONGE MUHURTORA starts off in a deceptively simple way-an accidental rendezvous between Ajoya (Nayana Saha), an enigmatic woman, and Tathagata (Arindam Ganguly), a weary office worker strikes off at the Kolkata Metro Station. They talk about their old neighbourhood, how Ajoya used to like her but that did not pan out well, while Tathagata is a PWD engineer and is married with a kid, so on and so forth. However what starts off as a playful banter soon transforms to an unexpected locale. Their interaction quickly escalates into a profound meditation on memory, betrayal, and the lies we willingly consume. Although it may appear to be an unrequited love story on the surface; however, the plays' beauty resides in the fact that it isn't.
The script is smart, emanating the colloquial slangs and lingo, which is common in Kolkata. Using that, the director underscores how vividly we treasure comforting illusions, tearing ourselves apart to penetrate their deceptive charm. It seems Sen knows intimately the seductive pull of illusion. As there is a line that insinuates at how we crave betrayal; we collect comforting lies like souvenirs. The brighter the wrapping, the more eagerly we tear ourselves apart trying to get inside.
Dipankar Sen's directorial choice to physically manifest the liminal states-where distances and proximities both literal and metaphorical dominate the characters' interactions-is particularly noteworthy. The set, composed of shifting blocks moving in sync with the narrative, seamlessly embodies the fluidity, which Richard Schechner describes with his Performance Continuum. It suggests that performance, much like reality, is continually reshaped by context and interaction.
Tathagata and Ajoya's relationship unfolds in nuanced detail, poignantly highlighting both physical and emotional distances. Their seating arrangement symbolizes a gap they must bridge-not merely the tangible space outside the metro train, on the platform at carefully distanced seats, but also a chasm created by forgotten memories and passing years. Their story might seem as a gentle ode to love but it is not. There is something deceptively uncanny about their resolution.
At a poignant juncture in the play, Tathagata reveals to Ajoya that he habitually waits at the metro station for fifteen idle minutes. When she questions this peculiar ritual, his understated reply-that it's his deliberate moment of quiet defiance-resonates profoundly, evoking Pablo Neruda's gentle yet powerful plea in "Keeping Quiet." This reflective pause becomes a subtle protest against the mechanised pace of urban life, highlighting the rare beauty and necessity of quiet introspection amidst cacophony. In those fleeting moments of stillness, Tathagata seems to reclaim a fragment of his autonomy, creating a quiet rebellion against the incessant demands of modern existence. Doubly justifying his name, which is the title of Buddha.
Sen vividly evokes this atmosphere through a skilled ensemble, whose nuanced performances provide pathos-laden humor and observational insight. Memorable vignettes include a frustrated commuter arguing over the phone, revealing deeper layers beneath superficial pique. The empathetic guard, less authority figure than sympathetic observer, encounters her reflective self, lying dreamily on the platform like an urban wanderer. A particularly engaging character is the magician (played by Shashreek Ganguly), whose performances-titled "Metro Rail Magic"-introduce dreamlike yet layered experiences akin to Foucault's concept of heterotopia. Now these are fleeting moments, so some might stay, while some might disappear like a magician's trick-such as the heterotopian aspect.
The play's meticulously executed projections serve elegantly as supporting characters, subtly reinforcing rather than overwhelming the narrative's emotional core. From the sun, to the swaying mandalas to bioscope-taxed pictures, the visual medium, which here likely acts as a prism if not less. Nayana Saha as Ajoya offers a believably nerve-wracking performance, where she sometimes captures the vulnerability as a meek person and yet at the very next moment prances like a lioness like verve, whereas Arindam Ganguly offers a very controlled performance embodying broken, radiant, escapist-laden facets. Sashreek Ganguly as the magician shines with an unequivocal fervour.
Richard Schechner's concept of the Performance Continuum offers insight into this very dilemma by suggesting that theater and everyday life occupy a fluid spectrum where each continuously shapes and informs the other. Similarly, Victor Turner's theory of Liminality-the ambiguous transitional states where social norms momentarily dissolve-echoes across the movements. By the dint of the ephemeral nature of human connection-moments of vulnerability and yearning that dance encapsulated a cathartic release.
The performers' movements embody the liminal spaces in human relationships, dramatizing internal tensions with dynamic physicality, from expressive jazz leaps to the introspective tremors of personal anguish.
However, certain artistic decisions demand closer examination. The lone ukulele devoid of any accompaniment by Shashreek Ganguly occasionally falls short of the emotional gravitas the production demands. Perhaps a chorus-like presence could have infused greater intensity and poignancy into pivotal scenes between Tathagata and Ajoya, enhancing the narrative's emotional depth in ways the ukulele alone cannot. But in that regard a guitar would have been a better choice. Moreover, minor technical hiccups-such as a soap bubble bursting prematurely offstage-detract from the delicate symbolism intended. The visual embodiment of Kolkata's weary urban existence, depicted ambiguously roaming the metro, might also benefit from more precise articulation to better integrate its thematic resonance with the overall storytelling.
In essence, Dipankar Sen's RONGCHONGE MUHURTORA brilliantly offers audiences a quietly powerful, introspective exploration of urban life and the transient, performative nature of human relationships. It reaffirms the extraordinary embedded within the ordinary, vividly capturing the essence of Kolkata-its nostalgia, contemporary realities, and the liminal spaces in between. Sen's production stands out as bold, original, and profoundly evocative theater.
In the end it leaves us with a question, is life anything but a performance? Or as Shakespeare had reiterated: All the World's a Stage.
Somudranil Sarkar, a writer-editor-critic-translator-theater practitioner, is a postgraduate in English language and literature. He published C/O Bonolata Sen, a collection of short stories, in 2019. His second book translation of Rabindranath Tagore's My Growing Years (Hawakal Publishers) came out in 2022. His third book "Leonard Cohen and I" (a collection of English stories) came out in 2023. His work has appeared in Scroll.in, Strange Horizons, The Critical Flame, World Literature Today, and elsewhere. In addition, Sarkar often curates workshops on theater and pantomime. As a performer, he meddles between the esoteric and the unexplored itinerary.
