We are in the compound of Nisha Sweets. There's huge commotion - a fight between two high school boys is about to break. Enter Pintu Bhaiya.
Pintu Bhaiya is sort of like Karl Marx and Bhagat Singh - always with the oppressed. The wannabe school ruffians are sawdust for him. Without hitting anyone, Pintu Bhaiya settles the fight.
This Patna Ka Superhero has swag not less than Michael Corleone. And like Corleone - he too is a local legend.
A boy goes to get a samosa for Pintu Bhaiya. While another one goes to get a masala cold drink.
Pintu Bhaiya is standing with swag, one leg perched on the parapet.
Even with this one scene, it's hard not to be enamoured by Pintu Bhaiya, who is the superhero seen from the eyes of a young Patna boy back in the early 2000s. The paean to Pintu Bhaiya lasts almost the whole duration of PATNA KA SUPERHERO. But not once does it feel disconnecting.
Even though the narrative is rooted in the mitti of the cow-belt, Pintu Bhaiya is not restricted to any one geographical region. He is the embodiment of our individual childhood heroes. When every small town had its own Pintu Bhaiya - a local hero whose star was not as bright as it had then seemed.
Underneath its humor and satire, PATNA KA SUPERHERO masks something tragic underneath - the phantom of the universe left behind. The solo, one-act play is a reminder of all that was lost in making a metro city home.
The familiarity of the nearby sweet shop. The local heroes. The manner of speaking.
It's seldom that the textures of such a colourful place as Patna come alive in a bare setting. Without any fancy set design. Or colourful secondary characters. And yet, because of the powerful combination of Nihal Parashar's writing and Ghanshyam Lalsa's acting, Patna seems palpable throughout the play's duration. Save for a few overstretched places, where the attention goes for a toss.
The music by Harpreet - an original track created specially for the play - imbues the Patnaverse with a tadka of its own.
One of the biggest delights of the stage is that the tiniest movement can evoke such a powerful emotion, like when, in order to pass time, Lalsa's character swings a make-believe ball. Or how a slight change in tonality gives birth to different characters, belonging to different professions and classes from the Patna milieu.
Interestingly, the actor Ghanshyam Lalsa is not from Patna. Although he has Benares roots, he was brought up in Mumbai. But as an actor, he convincingly becomes the instrument, doing 10-15 characters; becoming the medium which represents the ethos of an entire city and of youth spent in Patna.
Towards the play's end, there are strong points addressed that one doesn't anticipate.
Like how the pursuit of ‘love' in small towns is romanticised. And while you surely can't police nostalgia, perhaps you can police your interaction with the past, especially as the present reckoning stares you in the face. Because no matter how glossy, the sheen of nostalgia does fade.Soothing fairy lights at night look garish in the morning. And boyhood heroes do crumble as life happens.
*Divyani has worked as a journalist for The Quint, where she was also among the Founding Team members. While there, she also hosted and produced a podcast and fronted several standups. She's also worked for The Times of India group. She's now a theatre and film actor.
