Life is toast…

Boiled Beans on Toast uncovers the angst-ridden lives of urban dwellers barely veiled by sophistication and snobbery

February 01, 2015 04:24 pm | Updated 04:24 pm IST

An ode to city life Boiled Beans on Toast staged at PSG CAS Photo: K. Ananthan

An ode to city life Boiled Beans on Toast staged at PSG CAS Photo: K. Ananthan

A hungry king loses his way in the forest and finds himself knocking the doors of an old woman’s hut. She feeds him boiled beans or benda kalu. “From now on this place shall be named Benda kala uru!” declared the happy king. And, as years rolled past, Benda kala uru evolved into Bangaluru.

Boiled beans on Toast, a play written by Girish Karnad and directed by Lillete Dubey, derives its inspiration from this ancient lore. The name, blending the Indian and Western cuisines, could also be a metaphor for how the Indian and Western values struggle to co-exist in Bangalore. The play, presented by JTPAC in collaboration with Rotary Club of Coimbatore and Sobha Ltd, was staged at PSG College of Arts and Science.

The scene opens in the living room of the Padabidri family. Anjana Padabidri, a socialite, and her snooty friend Kitty Aiyyar are chatting about mothers-in-law, cooks and felled trees in the city. Prabhakar, an IT employee at Anjana’s husband’s firm, barges into this conversation and annoys the ladies with his endless ranting.

Prabhakar, who hails from a village, is fascinated by city life. He says, “I love the city air ma’am. However polluted it is, it is like a breath of fresh air for me.” Kitty is revolted by the man’s small town disposition, but offers to help him get a job in Wipro, Singapore through her “connections”. As it turns out the offer is a hoax and poor Prabhakar loses both the jobs.

Then there is Vimala, a spunky maidservant who works in the Padabidri household. She is a pathological liar and manipulator. She is forever on the look out for means to make an extra buck. Kunal, Anjana’s young son, admires her “creativity!” Vimala even tricks the cops into believing that she lives with her sister-in-law, when actually she is living with her lover, whom she says is her “distant cousin”.

All the actors played more than one role. Joy Sengupta as Prabhakar was impressive. He also played the aggressive military man / wife abuser, the rustic Kannada Taxi driver and the nervous IT employee. His body language and diction changed each time he switched between roles and it was hard to believe it was the same man.

The play does not judge anyone; not even Kitty. We realise that she flaunts her connections and money as a cover up for her abusive marriage. Even the benevolent Anjana, who shelved her passion for music for the family’s sake, has a past. In the initial days of their marriage, she befriended a Bengali singer. “I was lonely,” she tells her son. The man gave her company and hope in the new city. And, later when he left the flat, she went into depression. She attempted to kill her son and herself. The son understands and asks her to start singing again.

The last scene has the mother singing a Purandaradasar kriti and the son listening in rapt attention. The play ends with Kunal strumming “Bangalore Bhayanak”, a fusion medley of carnatic kritis and rock music, on his guitar. The music resounds in your ears even after the play is over. Because this song could be about any Indian city, with ordinary men and women sandwiched between its concrete blocks and the slums; its skyscrapers and mud huts.

(The proceeds of the event will go for children suffering from Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy and other related disorders )

0 / 0
Sign in to unlock member-only benefits!
  • Access 10 free stories every month
  • Save stories to read later
  • Access to comment on every story
  • Sign-up/manage your newsletter subscriptions with a single click
  • Get notified by email for early access to discounts & offers on our products
Sign in

Comments

Comments have to be in English, and in full sentences. They cannot be abusive or personal. Please abide by our community guidelines for posting your comments.

We have migrated to a new commenting platform. If you are already a registered user of The Hindu and logged in, you may continue to engage with our articles. If you do not have an account please register and login to post comments. Users can access their older comments by logging into their accounts on Vuukle.