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Rashmi Pilapitiya stars in A Fine Balance, which marks a historic collaboration between Prayas Theatre – Aotearoa’s biggest South Asian theatre company – and Auckland Theatre Company – Auckland’s flagship theatre company.
Rashmi Pilapitiya stars in A Fine Balance, which marks a historic collaboration between Prayas Theatre – Aotearoa’s biggest South Asian theatre company – and Auckland Theatre Company – Auckland’s flagship theatre company.

SocietyJune 15, 2019

Two greats of Auckland theatre meet in A Fine Balance

Rashmi Pilapitiya stars in A Fine Balance, which marks a historic collaboration between Prayas Theatre – Aotearoa’s biggest South Asian theatre company – and Auckland Theatre Company – Auckland’s flagship theatre company.
Rashmi Pilapitiya stars in A Fine Balance, which marks a historic collaboration between Prayas Theatre – Aotearoa’s biggest South Asian theatre company – and Auckland Theatre Company – Auckland’s flagship theatre company.

A Fine Balance opened yesterday in Auckland, marking a historic collaboration between two pillars of Auckland theatre. Sam Brooks talked to two of the team – Prayas president Amit Ohdedar and director Ahi Karunharan – about the show.

On paper, it seems like a no-brainer of a collaboration. Auckland Theatre Company, arguably the biggest theatre company in the country, joins forces with Prayas Theatre, the country’s biggest South Asian theatre company, for a production of a play adapted from one of the most fondly remembered books from the ’90s. There’s no doubt that it’ll be a show worth seeing.

But even more fascinating is the story behind the collaboration.

Prayas Theatre President and co-founder Amit Ohdedar says that talk about the companies collaborating together started in 2017, and really cemented in 2018 when ATC were confirming their programme for 2019. “Lynne Cardy (associate director at ATC) has been supporting Prayas for many years, she comes to our shows and really appreciates our work. We would go off and on with opportunities, but we were so busy with our other productions.”

Prayas Theatre have been one of the leading lights of the Auckland Theatre scene for the past few years. Their works have moved into more mainstream and alternative theatre spaces, including multiple sell-out seasons at The Basement Theatre (and I mean real sell-out seasons, the kind of seasons that sell out before they open).

It’s a savvy move for Auckland Theatre Company to partner with the company, allowing them to diversify their programming – which has come under fire in recent times – beyond the mainstream, crowd-pleasing work that the company has to do to fill venues. To the company’s credit, that diversification is working wonders; when I hear people speak kindly of ATC shows, it’s more often than not their youth shows (the Here and Now series of work) or their work that plays smaller venues (the multiple award-winning Still Life of Chickens), than shows in their flagship venue.

Ahi Karunaharan in rehearsal for A Fine Balance.

Even the choice of show is smart. Ohdedar notes that they’d done the show at TAPAC, a for-hire venue in St. Lukes, in 2015, and they’d been trying to do the show since 2012. Ahi Karunharan, who directed the show back in 2015 and returns to direct this production, confirms this savviness. “We haven’t chosen a work that is exoticizing or making this a tourist-peephole experience. I think the work is quite heavy and dark. People coming and expecting a nice Bollywood experience are not gonna get that.”

The script, adapted by Sudha Bhucar and Kristine Landon-Smith, for London’s Hampstead Theatre, comes from Rohinton Mistry’s incredibly popular Man-Booker Prize winning novel, A Fine Balance. Mistry’s novel is set in an unnamed and unidentified city in India, and unravels over nine years, kicked off by ‘The Emergency’, a 21 month period during which prime minister Indira Gandhi declared a state of emergency across the country.

It’s the kind of novel that was a sort of lightning rod for discussion and critical acclaim at the time, and its relevance and warm reception hasn’t dimmed since. I’ve read the book twice, once in high school and once in university, and it achieves the dual feat of being minutely detailed on an epic canvas. The book’s Man-Booker-annointed pedigree is fortunate for both theatre companies – it’s still a mainstay on bookshelves, and I’d bet a not-inconsiderable amount of money that it’s fondly remembered by ATC’s core audience.

Karunaharan mentions the novel’s ubiquity amongst Pākehā. “I hadn’t read the book, but a lot of my friends had. I was surprised that a lot of my Pākehā friends had the book, and that it had a profound affect on their life. It shifted so much thinking for them.” Despite that response, Karunharan put off reading the novel until Amit badgered him into directing the play for Prayas Theatre in 2015.

Ahi Karunaharan in rehearsal for A Fine Balance.

But this kind of collaboration doesn’t come without risks. A Fine Balance not only marks ATC’s first mainstage collaboration with a community theatre, but the first time a cast of entirely South Asian actors will be on its mainstage.

There’s an unfortunate canary-in-a-mine kind of pressure that happens when any community company collaborates with a mainstream monolith – just ask Ahi Karunaharan. “Two weeks ago, we had to stop and take the pressure off ourselves. We’ve been carrying that pressure with us – it’s the first time we’re doing this thing in this context, we can’t fuck this up. If we fuck this up then the organisation won’t engage with other communities or voices, because for so long systems have been in place to prevent certain types of work.

“But the moment I stopped and took stock of it, I knew I needed to let that go.”

Ahdedar speaks kindly of ATC, which has welcomed them in. “To be perfectly honest, we were a little sceptical in how we’re going into a new space, but the whole ATC staff have been really wonderful and making us feel comfortable. That’s quite important for us, because most of Prayas have other day jobs, this is not our full-time job.”

A production still from the 2015 TAPAC production of A Fine Balance.

As for the risk? It’s a calculated one, and I think one that’ll pay off. There’s a reason why Prayas Theatre’s cultural stock has been building for the past few years – they make really good shows that stand as a crucial point of difference from a lot of mainstream theatre. And honestly, a lot of alternative theatre too.

“The work talks about gentrification and beautification of cities, and those are uncomfortable conversations that we can’t necessarily have about New Zealand,” Karunaharan says. “But perhaps having a lens of a difference – like this show being set in India in the 70s – might allow us to engage in these conversations.”

It’s a point that’s often missed when talking about works that are different from the norm. And this collaboration shows that the ‘norm’ (naturalistic shows with white people in them, to generalise) is changing. By refracting hard conversations through another time and place, we’re able to engage with them more fully than if we were being confronted by them directly.

It’s hardly a revolutionary concept, but it’s surprising how few people are willing to apply it when they actually go out and engage with art.

But maybe it’s just about seeing something different. Karunharan states it bluntly: “If you look at the engagement with international festivals, and other works of different, I think audiences are just hungry for different voices and different korero.

“Are Auckland audiences ready for this difference? Yes.”

Keep going!
rat

SocietyJune 14, 2019

A biblical plague of rats is terrorising Titirangi

rat

Responding to reports that packs of cat-sized rats have taken over Titirangi, Don Rowe travelled to West Auckland to find out the truth.

There’s an infestation in Titirangi and it’s not just white girls with dreadlocks. Rats “the size of cats”, ten to a pack, staring down residents like a gang of mean teenagers. Frothing, pulsing rats, fat and beady-eyed. It’s been on Stuff news, Three News, bloody old Prime News at 5.

“I’ve never heard this happen before,” kebab shop owner Thomas Yadegary told Stuff. “I’ve never seen the rats but if it keeps increasing then it’s going to be a huge problem for everyone.”

Too much feeding the beloved Titirangi village chooks, the papers said – an excess of feed lying on the streets. If “feeding the chooks” is indeed an euphemism for jerking off, then the residents of Titirangi have called down a plague upon themselves with their patchouli-smelling jade-egg masturbation, because the rats are fucking everywhere. They’ve moved in like Germans on an OE, feasting on scraps, shitting in the bush, contributing nothing and making a mess. Reports of their size, however, have been greatly exaggerated: the rats are big, huge even, but they are equivalent to only the smallest of cats. They’re girthy, but within reason.

On Rangiwai Road, just off Titirangi’s main street, the rats were writhing. Perched on their ratty back legs, holding pieces of grain in their tiny rat hands, they nibbled and munched, gorging themselves on food ostensibly meant for the village’s grotty chooks. Utterly fearless, they flowed liquid over the tarseal, quivering and warm, lithe and mammalian.

As I watched them eat, a man with a ponytail attempted to parallel park his silver 4WD, struggling with the clutch and incline, winding down the window to speak.

“Wild, right? But everyone has a right to live. It’s not really their fault. Either way, it’s a bad day to do acid.”

He rolled up his window, face obscured by a smudge or lick mark. He would not give his name. Six different locals refused to talk, saying if they did so it would be on the Titirangi Community Facebook group within minutes, and the woman who feeds the scody birds is really quite frightening.

“We don’t hear native birds here anymore,” a woman told me from a balcony. “It’s disgusting. That’s off the record though.”

True, the Facebook page is utterly aflame with discourse. Some people allege the ‘rat infestation’ is a smear to get rid of the village chickens, ugly as they are. Others allege it’s all fake news drummed up to encourage a 1080 drop, and that the rats don’t exist at all, that they are yet another psy-op dreamed up by Jacinda, the UN, John Keys and Agenda 21.

The reality on the ground proves that to be a lie. Behind the doctor’s surgery the rats scurried in the brush, traceable through the explosions of birds taking flight to evade their gnawing maws. They squirmed in and out of tree roots and brick work, scampering through a pile of Jim Beam cans, worming wet beneath the wooden deck.

Forest and Bird have been warning of a mast season, where trees produce a bumper crop of seeds and fruit, for months. Podocarps like kahikatea and rimu are utterly virile this year, and the abundance of food leads to an explosion in rodent population. More than $30m has been set aside to deal with the ecological fallout. Yet in Titirangi, some locals are pointing finger at ‘Barbara’, a “local identity” who is “vehement about her God-given right to feed the birds.”

“We need to lace the food with poison,” a passerby told me.

But poison has been laid before, with the chickens taking severe collateral damage.

“They got all gross-looking,” her friend said.

But something must be done – after all, the rats are frightening children. When staying with her sister, Hannah Clarke’s four-year-old son Austin loves to visit the village chickens when he’s in Titirangi. Last month while keeping an eye out for the flock, he yelled “Mummy there’s possums!”

“No, we’re looking for the chickens,” she told her son.

“Look it’s possums,” he said again.

And they watched as a pack of huge rats ran across the street, like something out of Oliver Twist, like a scene from the Old Testament, like a fucking biblical plague.

May God have mercy on the pagans, Wiccans and atheists of Titrangi. That or bow down to your sandalwood Rat King.