There are weekends, and then there are weekends. There is something in lolling in bed and not shaving and not bathing and then waking up with a start and putting on whatever clothes that the hand can reach and then dashing into the mess to pick up that last toast for breakfast. Or there is something in waking early and cathcing the sun rising over the sea to the tune of an avian symphony, followed by hot tea at the bus stand.
But there are weekends with Shakespeare, and they are the best.
Saturday was the first meeting of Shakespeare and Company Mumbai, with John and Maya and Aparna and Pallavi and Aasif. Muffins, kahwa and literature. Our own writings, those by other writings, what and how to write. For a writer-in-making, heaven.
And Sunday was Macbeth at NCPA, directed by Alyque Padamsee and performed rather well. Witchcraft and false prophesy and murder. Sex, lies, blood and revenge...the works. To watch Shakespeare's best play, with all of its classical dialoges spouted unerringly...ah c'est la vie.
But weekends must end and weeks begin, and Shakespeare must be cast aside to make way for Darwin and Mendel. Evolution, genetics, the roots of life.
The week spent in contemplation of the meaning of life, and the weekend in enjoyment of its fruits!
Is there not grandeur in this view of life?
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