Amidst the Mumbai Monsoons, Man 1 wades through the relentless rain, a river of water streaming down his back. The theatre seems like a distant dream as he wipes the fog from his glasses, his determination wavering. Just as he begins to turn away, his gaze falls on a woman sprinting towards a narrow lane he had overlooked. Driven by a newfound hope, he follows, the rain mingling with his resolve. Down the brick road, he finally spots the crowd. He will successfully catch Be-Loved’s first show ever.
In Ahmedabad, Man 2 dashes onto a train, his heart pounding with excitement. After months of juggling schedules, he has carved out a day just for this moment. His mission is clear: In 4 hours he will be at Harkat Studios, Mumbai, watching QTP’s Every Brilliant Thing. He will return to Ahmedabad that very day, carrying with him the satisfaction of successfully catching their last show ever.
Catching a show means different things to everyone in different contexts, but at its heart lies a cosmic connection– that of the actor and the audience. Each is incomplete without the other, and performance occurs only when both are present. And as if the universe conspires to ensure this presence, the audience does anything and everything to catch a show. They meticulously plan their schedules, sometimes rearranging their lives just to secure a ticket. They arrive extra early to catch a front seat. In the show they hoot especially hard for their friends, knowing that their presence isn’t just about watching, but about participating in a shared experience.
In another part of Mumbai, Woman 1 and Woman 2 hurry through a furniture store to get to the billing counter. After spending over an hour meticulously curating what they want to take home, they stand in a line waiting to make the purchase. They are running late for a show. When a fight breaks out between the cashier and an uncle in front of the line, Woman 1 glances up at Woman 2. Woman 2 looks back with a mirrored expression– lets dash! They leave their curation aside and hurry out of the store, apologetic but determined. They may not have a bed to sleep on tonight, but they will most definitely be watchingAbhishek Majumdar’s Des at Prithvi..
The audience’s laughter lights up the dark theatre and the actors' hearts. The collective breathing in tense moments amplifies the scene for the actors as they feed off the mass energy. The actor feels the audience’s eyes on them as they deliver a difficult monologue with ease because they feel supported, heard and understood. When there are moments when the light on stage spills over to an audience member whose eyes are glistening with tears and hands are over their heart, the actor feels a sweet victory which in turn spills so beautifully onto the play. The audience thus becomes a living, breathing part of the performance. This connection between performer and audience is almost tangible. Each applause and gasp echoes with the understanding that without the audience, the play would not be complete.
In Hyderabad, in the middle of the global pandemic, Woman 3 impulsively hits a snooze button at 5 in the morning. Her body and mind are not ready to awaken and they are fighting with her with all their might. She tosses and lets out a grunt. Suddenly Subconscious throws a thought at her - Acts of Faith. Acts.. of.. Faith…? Oh, Acts of Faith! Her whole being wakes up– she has been looking forward to catching this international play for about a month now. She jumps up from the bed, opens up her laptop and is let into the zoom room just in (GMT-4, Ontario) time.
The biggest truth of this connection between audience and actor, though, lies in the liveness of play. Each millisecond of each show in a meticulously planned theatre performance is charged with a newness that exists only at that given moment. One cannot record nor store the breaths, the sighs or the applause for later. It makes you be here, and now. That is the feeling the audience chases– each show is made because of each individual present in this mini-cosmos of performance at the given moment. And so each particular show is unique and will never happen again in the same way. Actors can vouch for the fact that each time they perform the “same” show, the same joke lands in a different way, the same composition brings out a unique reaction, the same topic triggers a different question– each time, without fail.
In the end, catching a show transcends mere attendance. It becomes an act of love. Ojaswi has been on stage for 15 years of her life. She has worked across various theatre groups and institutions. She is an actor, a singer and also works as a speech and drama teacher.