Even Miss ‘Tuk-Tuk’, the invisible woman whom Dolon fancies keeping a track of through the window of their living room, is cast as a single, workaholic with no social life. To Mr. Elkunchwar’s credit though, he succeeds in his playwright’s craft to not only be able to get under the skins of his characters (Miss ‘Tuk-Tuk’ for instance could be the lonely Dolon herself inspite of the successful bank career that she has) but also to create an intricate tableau that reflects the characters’ relationships with each other. Despite moments of humourous banter and recollections of a carefree golden past, the tableau acquires a fitting, sombre colour under Sandesh Kulkarni’s direction.
The action motivated by the characters’ psyche enfolds in a simple but tastefully furnished drawing room. Aruna and Dolon who have been living together for a good number of years are vaguely reminiscent of the odd couple of Neil Simon’s play. On the other hand Shubhadra who is also a close friend of theirs would rather be in a destructive relationship than give up the corporeal pleasures and the security that comes out of habit of being with her boyfriend.
The theme that keeps reinforcing itself throughout the play is that despite their freedom and career achievements, none of these women are at peace with themselves. Perhaps once again in this context we may give Mr. Elkunchwar the benefit of doubt. Given his constant chipping away at the characters’ exterior selves, we are somewhere exposed to the nature of humankind that falters in its quest for happiness and contentment. What is further interesting is the outward appearances that these unfulfilled souls have assumed.
Gargi Phule’s Dolon despite her stilted Bengali and her inability to carry herself as a forty plus woman manages to convey to us the character’s decadent self which is low on self-esteem and which seeks to satisfy her inadequacy through food, perfumes, clothes and gossip. In complete contrast to her and Rajeshri Wadh-Sawant’s Shubhadra stands Ashwini Giri’s Aruna. Her upright brahamanical self and her strait-laced attitude come across as a manifestation of hidden and unquenched desires. A Sanskrit scholar and teacher, she looks as if she has aged earlier than she should have and begins to appear like a mother figure to Dolon and Shubhadra.
The outwardly bold and bindass Shubhadra who mixes Hindi, Marathi and English to create her own lingo, whizzes into the house after a fight with her boyfriend. But she leaves soon after to return to him, as she prefers to hit him back than to leave him. Rajeshri Wadh-Sawant plays her over the top and once again cuts the hackneyed figure of a journalist in a sleevless kurta, her face donned with a big round bindi.
Nevertheless the three actors are able to recreate the camaraderie of the characters’ days together in college and manage very well one particular scene that has all of them indulging in abandoned laughter. After Shubhadra leaves it is evident that the Sunday evening like the numerous weekend evenings that Aruna and Dolon have shared has run its course. Shubhadra’s exit signals a grave confrontation between Aruna and Dolon. In the final part of the play, Elkunchwar’s sense of timing and his persistent desire to explore his characters’ unconscious selves could not have revealed themselves more perfectly.
The music of Beethoven’s Sonata, which could have been better explored in its use in the production, makes a paradoxical metaphor. Aruna may find momentary reprieve in the sonata but as the lights go out in the wee hours of Monday morning it appears very unlikely that either of the three friends will be able to fine-tune their solo lives. On the whole, Kulkarni’s production is engaging enough in its bleakness even as it reinforces the gnawing limitations of the text itself.
*The writer is editor of this site, a theatre critic and an academic keenly interested in Theatre and Performance Studies.
