the ladies from zubaan gathered their amazing words away from the stage under the trees friday night (the presentation they made was so awesome, it deserves someone better able to record it here, so accept my pardons) to make way for something i knew was going to have me glued to the now familiar plastic chairs in the david sassoon library gardens.
i had been listening to them standing at the back (gah, there was standing room only, as the zuban session was full), so when i saw one seat emptying up front, i did what fans do, hastily left the bunch of friends who were with me, and grabbed the chair in the front row, next to farida (no, not her real name, but she looked like one).
friends who found chairs after a few people left, called out rude things to me, but i smiled. i knew i was in for a treat.
“please don’t clap,” was the request. “warna hamari izzat utar jaayegi.”
i heard an involuntary,”hain?” from farida, and i turned to beam at her. this was going to be double treat. sitting next to a dastangoi virgin. i have had the privilege of being mesmerised by the tales of fantasy before. i sigh in anticipation.
i knew the gulzar song about ‘thandi safed chaadaron mein jaage der tak’ was going to make an appearance in my head when i set me eyes upon the stage. yes, the gadda was there, covered in pristine white. i squashed the thought. what was about to happen was far grander than a movie song. but the brain started the ancient jingle for ‘tinopal’ as soon as the new dastango, fauzia, came to the stage, also in whites, and i missed her short introduction.
damn! a girl dastango and i missed it! please dahlings, don’t ask me what datsango is, you are citizens of the cyberworld, and much able to discover details on dastangoi.blogspot.com
back to kala ghoda.
danish and mahmood, the two teller of tales, were seated. before i climb the thrill spiral of dastangoi, i must praise the crisp white kurta pajama the two sport. and rave about the topis (the first time i spotted the little topi i had wondered how the topi stays perched upon their brilliant heads).
dastangoi is no longer an art hidden away in forty six volumes in someone’s dusty cupboard in ‘nukhlow’.
“please don’t clap. the tradition is to say ‘wah, waah’,” advised danish, knowing full well that some of us would not be able to resist the easy appreciation that we have become used to.
i felt farida stiffen next to me. i could hear gabbar singh talk thru farida.”kya samajh kar aaye the, audience bahut khush hogee? shabashee degee, kyon?”…
but the rest of us nodded. i practised saying, “wah!” under my breath, and thought it alien. so much easier to clap!
they started spinning the tale of the three storey bridge over the river of blood, where fish swam, swallowing pearls fed by nubile maidens…of how amar aiyyar was caught!
people tried out, “waah!” and the two dastangos nodded in approval. they were guiding our ears and mouths to an new experience. our bodies had long been hypnotised into staying still.
and then came ‘kalwarin’! so exquisite are her wine flask-bearing hips, her hands decorated with mahawar, her eyes, those eyes lined with kohl, her flirty ways that i found my jaw dropping several inches lower than anatomically possible.
farida was in the zone now. she was giggling, and simpering and her ‘wah, waahs’ were becoming audible. she even guffawed, then straightened up, not understanding how she was losing her carefully cultivated city-bred composure.
bahaar jadu cast her magic then. and we were even more hypnotised.
and soon we were mesmerised by the description of battles between magicians. i was convinced for a minute that ms.rowling must’ve ‘internalised’ a daastan somewhere…
aah then the tale spoke of blood and the gore of the battle…i found my heart needed coaxing, it kept pausing at the good parts. a little breathy swoosh from farida said she too was dealing with an unruly heart…
‘kya baat hai!’, ‘bhai waah!’ and stunned silences were how we experienced dastaangoi. thankfully danish announced, “you may clap now!”
there was a thunderous applause.
the audience was so amazed and impressed, they asked:
‘aapki zubaan itnee saaf hai, kya aap log auron ko sikhayenge?’, ‘could i learn to be a dastango?’
i think, if performers inspire such a response in the audience, the performance has been successful.
i found farida tasting the word, ‘haramzada’ quietly to herself. my grin widened. the kalwarin had cast her spell on her as well! murtaza danish hussain and mahmood farooqui had created one more fan.
their storytelling is flawless. they finish each other’s sentences, and hand over the action to one another, even say the last triumphant sentences in unison without faltering or tripping over the khaalis urdu. they make dastangoi a seamless spinning of wonderful impossible tales.
dastangoi is a living experience. i know i may have shortchanged you somehow with this blog entry, so am going to offer you a peek into someone else’s viewpoint. this was written after Dastangoi was performed in mumbai, a while ago, at prithvi.
here is the link to arjun bali’s blog called ‘balihai’.
