By Trisha MukherjeePanaji, Dec 19 (PTI) "Ye litti hai, yeh chokha hai – dolitti aur chokha pachaas rupay," Jadhav, not Yadav, keepsrepeating this almost like a broken tape recorder.
Originally from Bihar, Jadhav moved to Mumbai almost adecade back with his wife and daughter, and has since beenselling litti-chokha, the traditional dish from his homeland,to make ends meet.
The survival stories of small street vendors like him arethe subject of an immersive theatre performance at the ongoingSerendipity Arts Festival here.
'Stand on the Street' brings alive the fascinatingexperiences from the streets, with narratives that aresurprising and shocking – while some raise difficultquestions, others are simply reflective.
Every morning Jadhav sets up his stall in some corner ofthe city, only to be pushed aside, sometimes by passing carsand sometimes by the police.
Earning a paltry sum of not more than Rs 4,000-4,500 amonth, he barely manages to pay for his wife's treatment anddaughter's school fees.
Yet, when politicians and ruffians come to his stall andgorge on his litti-chokha, without paying a penny, he doesn'tutter a word.
But, when they ridicule his Bihari origins, he boils withrage, especially when they pass snide remarks on his daughter.
"Beti ke baare mein kuch mat boliye, beti ke baare meinkuch mat bolo, kaha na beti ke bare mein kuch mat bolna, nahitoh maar denge."Curated by Aruna Ganesh Ram, the 30-minute-longproduction frames the street as a performance space, sharingfood conversations, and revealing buried aspirations of thesevendors.
"Millions of people make a livelihood out of vending foodon the street. Million others eat food from these vendors. Itforms an important ecosystem that seemed very interesting tous," says production manager Priya Rao.
The act sees four performers donning masks of thesevendors hailing from Kolkata, Chennai, Bihar, Karnataka,Darjeeling, Kerala and Benaras, to recreate the stories oftheir lives.
The street ambience has been replicated within a dark,closed room, with the space crafted in a promenade style,taking viewers from one stall to another, offering a new storyat every junction.
The generously playful use of light, sound, rhythm, andsome real delicious food blurs the distinctions between theartiste and the audience to an extent when it ceases to be amere performance.
Rani, who sells tangy slices of 'manga' or raw mangoes,sprinkled with black salt and red chilli powder in front of acollege in Chennai, likes to talk about her "love marriage".
She speaks largely in Tamil peppered with phrases inEnglish.
When the police asks her to move her basket of mangoesand sit somewhere else, or threatens to beat her, she isterrified...almost in tears.
She heaves a sigh of relief when the man leaves,mischievously calling him, "rascal".
As part of their research, Priya told PTI, they travelledto different cities, where they spoke to vendors.
"Sometimes, if someone recommended a particular food, wewould go find the vendor."A lot of reading, during which they chanced upon cameanecdotes about the origin of some street foods, alsocontributed towards the script.
For instance, the maddur vada that is popularly sold ontrains in Karnataka, was first made when a vendor, in a hurryto catch the incoming train, simply mixed up everything he hadand made the vada.
"Eventually it became extremely popular," Priya said.
The performance tries to emulate this story with one ofthe performers selling maddur vada in a sing song manner as hetries to balance himself in the moving train.
The production also features a jhaal muri vendor fromBengal, a juice shop owner from Kerala, a momo seller fromDarjeeling and a paan vendor from Uttar Pradesh.
The performance will be hosted regularly at the old GMCcomplex here during the festival which comes to a close onDecember 22. PTI TRSMAH.
This is unedited, unformatted feed from the Press Trust of India wire.