More often than not my eye is drawn to a lover's fight or flirtation (rarely directed to me). Standing in line for an ATM, I once watched a couple, a sheepish looking man and his rather unhappy woman partner. Her reluctance, as she slipped her card into the machine, was more than matched by his enthusiasm. As they walked away, hand in hand, I imagined their story.
Then there is the endless drama of parents and their children in malls. It is high on the cute factor but it's generally predictable, although the sight of kids on leashes (still rare in Malaysia) or kids running off into harm's way never fails to create anxiety.
I try not to contribute too much to the drama of the streets though I have been known to mutter the words "cow" and "idiot" under my breath while trying to get out of an LRT train as other commuters rush in impatiently.
On a few occasions I have spoken out; once when a young woman dropped her drink can on the LRT train floor with a loud bang. She starred briefly at it and turned away. I said, "You can't leave it there". "Ya, I know," she said as she picked up the can with a sullen po-faced expression.
Most times I enjoy the drama of the walkways from the vantage point of a favourite street corner or a restaurant table with a view. There the world passes me like an endless stream of images (and smells, though rarely).
It is like a movie with no clear plot. There are no protagonists. There are an overwhelming number of bit players
though, and the very rare cameo (I haven't seen a genuine celebrity since I last bumped into our own Dr Astronaut, and that was perhaps not the biggest thrill, his smile notwithstanding).
Stepping off the streets into a theatre is like being teleported to another planet, where all the elements in the environment (except the audience) can be control-calibrated very precisely.
Of course, some performance spaces have an intimate connection with the environment they are situated in, like the Annexe by Central Market. One can never quite tune out the buses revving up their engines as they begin the routes.
The Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre (KLPAC) is a complete contrast, as it is tucked away in a sprawling green oasis in Sentul. Inaccessible by public transport, it has nevertheless been home to cultural activities, ranging from dance and film to theatre. Built and sustained on private initiative, it stands in contrast to State-sponsored Istana Budaya, visible from the top floors of KLPAC. All these spaces, and more, make for a vibrant city.
When I was last at KLPAC, I was watching Toilet, a performance in space, light and ideas. It's the very stuff that cities are made of.
In the second half of the performance, the director breaks with the almost ethereal images and lines up his dancers cast earlier. Four voices issue statements. This is just an extract from the endless stream of thoughts, often contradictory, that they spoke:
"I walked purposelessly. I walked purposefully. I walked on paths. I walked on paths on which it was prohibited to walk. I failed to walk on paths when it was imperative to do so. I walked on paths on which it was sinful to walk purposelessly."
These are notions for every pedestrian to ponder.
● Next week, Sharaad Kuttan will review the theatre performance 'Toilet' held at KLPAC.
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