At Kalamazoo College, Kahani had transformed into a buzzword that I had to constantly explain and justify. When people asked, "What is Kahani?" the real meaning of the question was "What is this weird hyped theater thing and why should I care?" I don't want to say there was any bitterness towards the project, but after a couple of disjointed newspaper articles, rumors and daily sighting of the ensemble members rolling around on the grass in front of the fine arts building, Kahani didn't reach the campus's conscious as an understandable thing until it was performed. However; due to the unfortunate timing of DOGL, for many students the existence of Kahani never stretched beyond the cryptic poster and the knowledge that 10 lucky students get to go to India like some liberal arts version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I remember by finals week there were still some students asking, "Aren’t you in some India play thing this quarter?"
Even with a low student interest, Kahani was the first piece I'd participated in at Kalamazoo College that had received mixed reviews from my peers. I think it's safe to say that even by liberal arts standards Kahani is not a normal play. In fact sometimes I don't even think of it as a play and instead think of it as an experimental performance. I could easily see Kahani being an modern art exhibit, performed in a dimly lit room with silky blue cloth crawling down from the ceiling and every time the play ends, the actors would repeat while the viewers come and go. A lot of our ensemble conversations after our first set of performances dealt with the idea that people didn't "get" Kahani or maybe the piece we created just wasn't understandable. With all this in mind, I was extremely nervous to take a piece I was so unsure about to the other side of the world.
Audience members in India responded to Kahani in a couple of surprising ways. First off, there was almost a bewilderment of the audience as to why some students from the US wanted to tell an Indian story and how we did it so well. I never liked looking at Kahani as an Indian story (even though it clearly was) but I was flattered that apparently we were believable as an Indian family. Also, audiences in Varanasi, at least to my knowledge, were never frustrated without understanding what was going on. The biggest critique of Kahani at K was "I didn't understand it when..." Even the school children seemed to understand the performance and weren't entirely bewildered when characters started dancing to represent the passing of time.
My biggest regret is that I became too sick to act in the second performance, which I understand had to be rewritten to accommodate my absence. Other than that, the experience of performing in another country filled me with a sense of vulnerability that I'd never felt before. The last thing I felt different upon our varied stages in Varanasi was comfortable. At K I'd become accustomed to our Balch Theater and performing the play there became almost a chore. In Varanasi, the play was filled with a new nervous energy that made every step I take a careful choice.
Even with a low student interest, Kahani was the first piece I'd participated in at Kalamazoo College that had received mixed reviews from my peers. I think it's safe to say that even by liberal arts standards Kahani is not a normal play. In fact sometimes I don't even think of it as a play and instead think of it as an experimental performance. I could easily see Kahani being an modern art exhibit, performed in a dimly lit room with silky blue cloth crawling down from the ceiling and every time the play ends, the actors would repeat while the viewers come and go. A lot of our ensemble conversations after our first set of performances dealt with the idea that people didn't "get" Kahani or maybe the piece we created just wasn't understandable. With all this in mind, I was extremely nervous to take a piece I was so unsure about to the other side of the world.
Audience members in India responded to Kahani in a couple of surprising ways. First off, there was almost a bewilderment of the audience as to why some students from the US wanted to tell an Indian story and how we did it so well. I never liked looking at Kahani as an Indian story (even though it clearly was) but I was flattered that apparently we were believable as an Indian family. Also, audiences in Varanasi, at least to my knowledge, were never frustrated without understanding what was going on. The biggest critique of Kahani at K was "I didn't understand it when..." Even the school children seemed to understand the performance and weren't entirely bewildered when characters started dancing to represent the passing of time.
My biggest regret is that I became too sick to act in the second performance, which I understand had to be rewritten to accommodate my absence. Other than that, the experience of performing in another country filled me with a sense of vulnerability that I'd never felt before. The last thing I felt different upon our varied stages in Varanasi was comfortable. At K I'd become accustomed to our Balch Theater and performing the play there became almost a chore. In Varanasi, the play was filled with a new nervous energy that made every step I take a careful choice.
Cameron G. Schneberger
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