An Ordinary Life

with senior actors at the repertory for the play. One actor, who was extremely boring and not even a great actor, was given the role of Galileo. One expects an actor to be able to make people laugh, cry, and extract emotions out of them. Bennewitz gave the role to this actor, much to the annoyance of everyone else, because he was a poor actor. During the rehearsals, the director realized that the actor was not able to understand the role. People kept asking him to change the cast, but Bennewitz stayed adamant and declared that if anybody would play Galileo, it would be this guy. He worked very, very hard with this actor. And somehow he managed to explain the complexities of the character of Galileo to the actor. Like in the scene when the pope banishes Galileo from the city because he says he can prove there is no such thing as God, Galileo leaves and goes to his mother and sister. They are crying profusely and he is telling them he has to leave or he may have to drink poison like Socrates did. He narrates what happened with the pope in a simple, matter-of-fact way. And says he sticks to his thesis that God does not exist. The entire city is crying for him. But he is leaving. And the weaknesses, the neutrality of the actor, his lack of emotions completely blended with the character of Galileo. Because Galileo too was a man of logic, not emotions. So this casting worked splendidly; the audience was moved and the play was a huge hit. However, very few people understood that it was the subtlety of the performance that made it so powerful. But I did. I understood the director’s thought process and the enormity, the brilliance, the might of what he was exploring.

When we look at the universe, all the planets simply are. All of them are doing their jobs, without emotions; they are neutral. When we look at trees, they are doing their jobs staying rooted through storms, without emotions. This is the goal of life. We come, we leave. That’s it. All this laughter, crying, anger, all of these emotions we have created for our sukoon (peace). Some people come, touch and inspire our lives. They give like trees. While they are alive, they don’t achieve anything, but once they leave, people realize their greatness. That play gave me that, the essence of which cannot be put into words.

Seven or eight years later, some of my batchmates from BNA went to London. London became their second home, while they also travelled to Germany frequently. Several of them had his number and they called Bennewitz from a phone booth at the airport. He did not answer the phone. But curiously, moments later, some policemen came and arrested them. It turned out that the director was a VVIP in London and if anybody called him unexpectedly, he would get stressed. He then intervened and got them released.

When he was at BNA, the academy had given Bennewitz lodging on campus. After his plays and classes were over, he would tuck a polythene bag under an arm and walk to the local market for provisions. But he would be in no rush. He would be gallivanting, sitting on roadsides, etc. I wondered at his behaviour, something that we had not seen in our regular teachers. It was only after the London episode did it strike us that he was a big shot. But given his humility, his nonchalance, nobody could have guessed his stature.

Nobody should have hubris, especially scientists and artists. The moment hubris strikes, you are finished. As an actor, you have to realize that even in a simple craft like acting, one lifetime is just not enough to do complete justice to it. We are all dwarves in the face of creation. I am hardly a star. Are you kidding me! There are so, so, so many oceans of challenges, but time is limited.

Acting, writing, these are all magic. The actor, the writer, they are magicians. They can enter a person’s mind and make them travel from nowhere at all to such unknown lands, undiscovered worlds and bring them back. How many blessings, how much love s/he will bestow upon you once you have touched that person! He wants you to be transported; he is coming to you with a wish that he himself does not really know. When your grandmother told you stories, you travelled even though you did not move from your place. It is exactly like that.

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Among the amazing faculty at BNA was one teacher who once gave us a unique assignment: meet all the people who live around you not as yourself, but as an assortment of characters. See if you can convince them or not. At the market nearby was a subziwali from whom I used to buy vegetables. With a walking stick in my hand and wearing dark glasses, I went to her pretending to be a blind customer, wondering if she would believe me or not. She treated me with extra kindness, extra gentleness, even though she was busy. So yes, she was convinced.

Then I acted mute with some of these people, like my barber. Eventually, it so happened that a bunch of people thought I could not see, while another lot thought I was mute. I carried on with my disguises for nearly eight months. In this period, I mastered guises, so much so that if I am ever offered the role of a blind person, I should be able to do it easily. After all, I lived that character for so many months! And because I had to live the character for so many months, I realized early on to steer clear of caricature and walk towards ‘realness’, because otherwise the subziwali, the nai and others would catch me. This realness entered my pores and stayed; it helps me even today in my acting.

I rented a