Watched the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of Much Ado About Nothing last weekend, and loved it. The magic ingredient? It's set in contemporary Delhi.
This production isn't really about finding new psychological depth in Shakespeare. It is about relocating Shakespeare to India, and enjoying the play of images, sounds and textures that that creates, and it does this beautifully.
At times, the decision to set Much Ado About Nothing in India feels obvious rather than inspired. Shakespeare's story-line is exactly the same as hundreds of Bollywood potboilers. It features two couples, one soppily besotted, the other constantly duelling, daggers drawn. It features elaborately staged situations and misunderstandings that shift these couples in and out of love. It is excessively interested in a woman's maidenly honour. It features loyal servants, a buffoon of a policeman, a wise priest...it is as desi as butter chicken and scotch whiskey.
Beatrice and Benedick
On a jhula
What made the show for me was not the Indian setting per se, but the rich detail in which this was recreated. The ambient sound in the foyer, before the show, was the soundscape of an Indian street: an autorickshaw's tuk-tuk, dogs barking, a street vendor's call, snatches of music. The ropes defining the line to the box office were marigold garlands. Beatrice and Benedick discover their love for each other when seated together on a swing, a jhula. The guards of the Prince's Watch are armed with hurricane lanterns and lathis. The detailing is spot-on, not just authentic but exuberantly so.
This touched a set of feel-good buttons for me, and I'd assume for a lot of my friends and family, because it mirrors how we think and feel about India. Sure, India has problems. Serious problems. But we are not defined by our problems. We are defined by our zest for life, which shows up in our culture - in colour, in music, in flavours, in texture - and it's that zest for life that was showcased at the Courtyard Theatre in Stratford upon Avon. Thank you RSC. And in case I don't get around to posting again tomorrow - Happy Independence Day. Jai Hind!
Maria Sharapova carries the Russian flag at the Olympics
Is Maria Sharapova American, because she lives in Florida, having learnt tennis at Nick Bolletteri's academy? Or is she Russian, because she feels Russian and is proud of being Russian?
This question has generated a bit of a storm in a tea cup. Maria Sharapova had the honour of carrying the Russian flag in the Olympics, and was obviously thrilled about it. However, Tennis magazine journalist Peter Bodo was very upset about this and went on this rant:
"I get tired of hearing Sharapova, who lives in Bradenton, Fla., go on about how thrilled she is to represent her native Russia... I find Sharapova's attitude ungracious, and mind-numbingly so...
Maria seem more like a deluded character out of a Tennessee Williams play than a formidable "brand" and money-making machine. That's just plain weird; too weird to be true. I guess the money, creature comforts, and other attractions of the U.S. are more appealing than a life spent drinking in the piney mountain air of the Urals, or bobbing around in a boat in the headwaters of the mighty Don—great as it is to represent Russia in the Olympics!"
This is not just bad-spirited, it is outright stupid. It took me less than ten seconds to find out that the distance from Maria's home town, Nyagan, to the source of the River Don, in Novomoskovsk, is 1760 miles or two and a half days of driving time. Did John McEnroe, America's proudest Davis Cupper, ever go bobbing around in a boat in the headwaters of the mighty Mississippi? It is easy to dismiss Peter Bodo as a shrivelled-up, narrow-minded American git, but personally, I find his narrow-mindedness even sadder than that: Bodo himself was born in Austria and has spent pretty much his entire life reporting on a genuinely global sport.
Bodo's bile predictably generated a ton of negative reaction. Since then, Tennis magazine have tried to row back, with their more thoughtful columnist Steve Tignor writing that "I can’t begrudge her a desire to feel a link to her family and its history". But, like another American called Mitt Romney found out last week, what has been said can't be unsaid.
I myself am proud to have serially failed the Tebbit test, like every other expat I've met in Britain, and like every Englishman or Scot I've known who has lived abroad. That puts me squarely and naturally on Maria's side of this question. So I'll be hoping even more fervently than usual that Maria beats Serena Williams to win the Olympic gold for Russia. It's a long shot - the bookies at offering 4:1 on a Maria win - but she's still got a shot.
Daniel Barenboim conducting the West Eastern Divan Orchestra
The BBC Proms, on TV this week, features the West Eastern Divan Orchestra playing the complete cycle of Beethoven symphonies, conducted by Daniel Barenboim. The West Eastern Divan Orchestra are an ensemble of accomplished musicians from the Middle East, with a compelling story about trying to bring understanding and harmony to that troubled region; they are playing Beethoven's symphonies, unquestionably some of the greatest music ever conceived. Yet the advertising tag-line reads "Daniel Barenboim conducts...". Is this fair? Does the conductor add so much value that he deserves to be the headline act?
I don't have a closed-ended answer to that question, but I am convinced that a conductor adds real value. This is thanks a one of the most memorable business leadership development programs I've attended - The Music Paradigm, with Roger Nierenberg.
This program is built on the premise that a leader in a business corporation is like the conductor of an orchestra. In a business, a machinist, statistician or accountant knows much more about her or his speciality then the Vice President or General Manager every will, like in an orchestra, the violinist, flautist or cellist are more skilled at their respective instruments than the conductor will ever be. The General Manager or the conductor is needed to bring the amazing individual performers together, harmoniously, to make music. The Music Paradigm session starts with members of the class, like me, sitting in the midst of the orchestra. Gradually, as everyone gets comfortable with the setting, members of the class volunteer to step up to the podium, pick up the baton, and conduct the orchestra (with Roger Nierenberg's help).
Roger Nierenberg helps a first-time conductor
What made the Music Paradigm unique, different from the dozens of other team-building or leadership development sessions I've attended, was the experience of stepping up to the podium, picking up the baton, and hearing this virtuoso orchestra responding to your gestures by making music. That was powerful, memorable, profoundly emotional, and completely unlike anything I had felt before.
My classmates and I had a debrief after the Music Paradigm session, and our takeaways were very consistent. We all were NT personalities in the Myers Briggs' framework; science or engineering majors who had experienced success as problem solvers. We were veterans of various leadership programs, and had several years of people management experience. We were used to thinking about leadership in terms of setting direction, getting buy-in or sponsorship, pulling together resources, defining roles and responsibilities, setting up incentives - as a series of problems to be solved. What we were less used to was leadership as an emotional experience. Music as a metaphor made it obvious that a conductor's, or leader's, main contribution is in establishing an emotional connection with the players and with the music, that that emotional connection makes the difference between a competent professional performance, and something that sounds very different, an inspired or visionary performance. My classmates and I may not have disagreed with that thought on a PowerPoint slide, but music brought it home in a way that PowerPoint can't.
Itay Talgam's TED talk makes the same point, with video clips of some of the twentieth century's greatest conductors in action. Maybe the next iteration of this talk will include Daniel Barenboim conducting the West Eastern Divan Orchestra. Enjoy...
Luke Skywalker strides towards the twin sunset on Tatooine
I'd posted yesterday about the poem "Keep Ithaka always in the mind", in which Ithaka is a metaphor for home, for integrity. Other classical traditions have their own Ithakas, their own sacred places that stand for integrity. For instance, Star Wars fans might think of Tatooine - the desert planet in a galaxy far, far away where Luke Skywalker was raised - as their Ithaka.
The mythic, metaphorical Ithaka has a physical analogue: the island of Ithaki in western Greece. It turns out that Tatooine also has a physical analogue: Tataouine, in southern Tunisia.
George Lucas filmed the desert landscapes of Tatooine on location in Tunisia, the Breber architecture in Tataouine is recognizably the inspiration behind Luke Skywalker's childhood home. Apparently, he borrowed the name of a local town as well. Adherents of the Jedi faith are now making pilgrimages to Tataouine. The World's latest Technology podcast has a story about a Jedi knight, Mark from Norwich, who got married at Tataouine.
If only the people in power would uphold Britain's traditions of tolerance and include the Jedi religion on the census questionnaire, conversion to the Jedi faith would hit a tipping point...pilgrim traffic to the Tunisian Sahara would take off...the Tunisian economy would improve...the Arab Spring would be reinforced...inexpensive and effective nation-building in the Arab world!
Came across another classically inspired poem. This time, I didn't randomly spot it on the tube. It came to my inbox in a farewell email from a Greek colleague, Clementina, who dedicated these lines to us:
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvellous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean. Ithaka as a metaphor for integrity reminds me of:
"You, who are on the road, must have a code, that you can live by.
And so become yourself...".
Ithaka is where you learn that code, the code itself, and where you get to when you've lived by that code. Echoes of the Bhagavad Gita as well, "not expecting Ithaka to make you rich" maps directly to "कर्मण्ये वाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन".
Clementina found some beautiful words with which to acknowledge us, her colleagues, for being a part of her unhurried, marvellous journey, her Odyssey. Cheers Clementina! May Ithaka remain always in your mind.
Ox Travels has been resident on my bedside table for several months now. This is a collection of stories by travel writers, each story based on a meeting or encounter that happened while on the road. The stories are evocative, charming, and at about ten pages per piece, are not too demanding - ideal for a dip into another world before drifting off to sleep.
One story I just read in this collection is The Fourth World, by Jan Morris. The Fourth World is Morris' term for the virtual nation of kind people around the world, who together should be a powerful force for the good:
"My own experience, after seventy odd years of the meandering life, is that there exists a kind of vast supranational community whose citizens are essentially kind.
...the qualities of this virtual nation of mine can be elusive...But I know them by now, and I recognize them in all their myriad guises. I have recognized the signs in statesmen as in housewives, in taxi-drivers as in actresses and tycoons - a look in the eye, a smile, a gurgle of laughter is often enough. I knew I was in the presence of an initiate when, one day in the high Himalayas, alone in the high snows, I met a wandering holy man with whom I shared not a word or even a gesture, just an instinct.
...over the years I have come to realize that these people constitute a vast and powerful freemasonry...
I think of them one and all of constituting a Fourth World of their own...an association as wide and varied as my Grand Diaspora, bound only by decency and humour, would surely be unconquerable..."
Morris proceeds to give an Edinburgh barmaid an impassioned spiel about the latent force of the Fourth World, which is the "encounter" in the story. Regardless, I found this notion of the Fourth World seductive. My experience is also that most people, everywhere, are basically kind. I went to sleep thinking that, surely, basic human decency, kindness, the latent power of the Fourth World, will be harnessed one day to make the world a better place.
When I woke up, however, I remembered a paper I read in B-School which shows why it is so hard to engage the power of the Fourth World. Basically, people are kind when they have time on their hands. The same people stop being kind when they get busy.
The paper in question is "From Jerusalem to Jericho: A study of Situational and Dispositional Variables in Helping Behaviour", by Darley and Batson (thank you Google). This study looks at whether or not people stop to help a man slumped in an alleyway, moaning with pain; whether or not people behave like the Good Samaritan in the biblical parable. It found that people with time on their hands stopped to help. Those who were under time pressure, including those who were bustling off to give a lecture on the Parable of the Good Samaritan, did not help. This wasn't a small effect, it was observed in almost all the subjects of this study. People with time were kind, people who were in a hurry were not.
Looked at this way, Fourth World citizenship is situational. It increases when people are feeling time-rich. Perhaps the best thing organized religion did to promote kindness was to enforce the sabbath, to give people the experience of being time-rich, to create a space where time is in our hands, where we're not in the hands of time.
Idleness serves a deep moral purpose, as citizens of the Fourth World and bloggers know...
Spent fifteen minutes or so staring at these words on the London
Underground:
The world`s great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faith and empires gleam, Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
A brighter Hellas rears its mountains From waves serener far; A new Peneus rolls his fountains Against the morning star. Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.
A loftier Argo cleaves the main, Fraught with a later prize; Another Orpheus sings again, And loves, and weeps, and dies. A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore...
This poem is Chorus from Hellas, by Percy Bysshe Shelley, an explicitly political piece. At the time it was written, Greece had been an
Ottoman colony for over three hundred years, and was fighting for independence.
The English romantic poets were deeply exercised by the Greek cause.
Shelley wrote these words while raising money for Greek partisans, showing a
strong pan-European sensibility; it's possible to read this poem as a creation
hymn for the European Union, written one hundred and thirty years before the Treaty
of Rome. Unfortunately, now, "wreaks of a dissolving dream" also bring
to mind the financial havoc in Greece, and the dissolving dream of Europe.
Thank you to Transport
For London for making room for Shelley on the tube. It
would have been so easy to fill this space with yet another advert.
