Koogu — Shout Cry Call

Koogu is a Kannada word, which means a 'shout' or a 'cry' or a 'call'. At Fields Of View there was a performance organized by the Sandbox Collective that I still haven't been able to escape. A performance like none I have ever seen before. Anis Victor, the performer of the act, is a name I am forever going to hate, for it was because of him, I saw things I wish I could unsee, I heard things I wish I could un-hear, I felt things, that I am never, ever going to come out of.

How often does it happen that you watch a show, theater, performance or even a movie but even 12 hours later, your mind, you heart, you soul, your emotions, your consciousness, your conscience and your being are still under this conflict that you have never, EVER experienced? The reason why I am writing this, why I have to write this is because I need to pen down this conflict, now, before something pushes me back into normal, before I slip back to the escape we call reality, before I forget.

Resistance. Such a wonderful word isn't it? An artist resists. A warrior resists too, you, I, everyone that we know resists. Sometimes without knowing why, sometimes trying to find out why. Anis asked us all to stand up, to close our eyes and to be. To feel, everything there was around. Listen to the sounds, really, to just listen, to be aware. We then sat down.

The sounds of the drum, the thump of it, somehow synced with a frequency in my head I did not know existed. It took me back to the stairs of the Durga temple in Chittorgarh where an old lady used to play the Nagada. The thumping grows, faster, so does the thoughts in my head. My breathing however, slowed down, I don't remember being in this state of calm and peace, ever. I only remember the movement of the sounds of drum around me, it felt like he was moving in circles, with a slow, very slow pace. The drum found it's way back to where it came from.

He is a storyteller, he told us stories that might sound very trivial, but they really are what makes us extraordinary. He told us how brave his Amma was, braving the walls of the British Club to watch the ball. How something about that dance, influenced her and how that influence converted to fear, which was then reflected in her grandchildren. He told us about how he felt when he couldn't finish that race.

Ave Maria, a song, a performance that is as beautiful as it is haunting. His memories from the choir group, his memories about the abuse. A story about Alessandro Moreschi, that has forever changed the way I am going to look at the singers, about the sacrifices. Another story about the hypocritical society we are in. How death is not considered the same for two different species.

So many more stories about so many different things! You have to go watch him perform! There are just so many questions, so many of them that the performance will force you to ask yourself. The performance left many loose ends that I am still trying to tie. Trying to find out how would it have been, what must or could have happened. I remember each and every detail of each and every story he told us. How he died every single time to be a part of a new story.

The intensity of the performance broke me into so many pieces, tore me apart emotionally and intellectually so beautifully, that I can not wait to go back and be a part of the performance again. I came, I saw, I felt and I went back home a better man. Moaaaar power to you Anis and the entire team that put this together. Varsha, thank you so much for taking me there, I really do owe you.