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Sunday, 18 November 2007

Attitude Stinks!

This week there was Sindhi art festival at National College, Bandra that was organized by ‘Nu Sindhu Art Academy’. It was the 8th Grand Sindhi Drama Festival. On Friday, 16th November, there was a play called .Rang Rangeela Pyar Ja”, a lovable socio comedy On Saturday, 17th November, there was “Changh Mangh 420, a comedy about two comedians And on Sunday, 18th November, there was a play called Tension-Tension, dhammal comedy. On Saturday, the Sindhi play was to start at about 7:30 and it was coinciding with ‘Celebrate Bandra’ Carnival Parade and the Inauguration function. I wanted to attend both. I went early to National College to investigate about the play before I could decide which one to attend. Since there was nobody around, I went back-stage to find out about the program and the entrance. The Asranis were busy giving the final touches to the stage. I peeped in and said. “Is Niroo in?” A man in late fifty’s came forward. “Yes? What can I do for you?” “Oh. I was wondering about this drama, what time will it commence?” “Come back later, it is too early.” “I will be interested. I could write about your play in our magazine ‘Beyond Sindh’” I said, just to start a conversation. “Beyond Sindh? We don’t encourage these things, you know. I am giving you pass, but we don’t believe in giving out the invitations like that” he said as he reached inside and came back with a pass. I was taken by surprise. I had not even asked for a free pass. He glared at me and said “You better show me what you write before you print anything about me.” “Actually, we have already been featured in this magazine” said his son, as he came forward to show me some Xerox pages of the article featuring ‘The Asranis, (Born to cheer through theatre)’ in the souvenir. “Oh, You are Asranis?” I was surprised by his rude attitude. I was feeling like a beggar, taking a free pass. Why would I want his approval before publishing anything? “Er! If I write anything, it will be approved by the editor of my magazine.” I said “But still, you have to show me what you write about the play” he said as I turned to leave. Outside, I found one more person selling tickets. “How much is the cost of the ticket?” I asked the man. “Rupees fifty” he said “Rupees fifty only?” All this fuss over fifty rupees? I couldn’t sell my soul for fifty rupees! I took three hundred and sixty degrees turn, walked back to the back-stage and returned the free-pass back to Asranis. I decided to buy a ticket. Unfortunately, my mood had changed. The “Celebrate Bandra” inauguration function was more interesting and could be enjoyed with dignity.

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