4,56 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
A futuristic satire on the trade in live organs from the Third World to the West.
Om, a young man is driven by unemployment to sell his body parts for cash. Guards arrive to make his home into a germ-free zone. When his brother Jeetu returns unexpectedly, he is taken away as the donor. Om can’t accept this. Java, his wife, is left alone. Will she too be seduced into selling her body for use by the rich westerners?
Harvest won first prize in the first Onassis Cultural Competition for Theatre and was premiered in Greek at the Teatro Texnis, Athens. It has also been performed by a youth theatre in the UK, broadcast by the BBC World Service and made into a feature film, directed by Govind Nihalani, titled Body, which was screened at the Regus London Film Festival. The play is also studied by many colleges and universities to explain how globalisation works.
Manjula Padmanbhan
Born in Delhi to a diplomat family in 1953, she went to boarding school in her teenage years. After college, her determination to make her own way in life led to works in publishing and media-related fields.
She won the Greek Onassis Award for her play Harvest. An award-winning film Deham was made by Govind Nihalani based on the play.
She has written one more powerful play, Lights Out! (1984), Hidden Fires is a series of monologues. The Artist's Model (1995) and Sextet are her other works.(1996).
She has also authored a collection of short stories, called Kleptomania. Her most recent book, published in 2008, is Escape.
Apart from writing newspaper columns she created comic strips. She created Suki, an Indian comic character, which was serialized as a strip in the Sunday Observer.Before 1997 (the year her play Harvest was staged) she was better known as a cartoonist and had a daily cartoon strip in The Pioneer newspaper.
As playwright
1984 - "Lights Out"
2003. Harvest. London: Aurora Metro Press.
As Author and Illustrator
2013. Three Virgins and Other Stories New Delhi, India: Zubaan Books.
2015. Island of Lost Girls. Hachette.
2011. I am different! Can you find me? Watertown, Mass: Charlesbridge Pub.
2008. Escape. Hachette.
2005. Unprincess! New Delhi: Puffin Books.
1986. A Visit to the City Market New Delhi: National Book Trust
2003. Mouse Attack
As Illustrator
Baig, Tara Ali, and Manjula Padmanabhan. 1979. Indrani and the enchanted jungle. New Delhi: Thomson Press (India) Ltd.
Maithily Jagannathan and Manjula Padmanabhan. 1984. Droopy dragon. New Delhi: Thomson Press.
Comic Strips
2005. Double talk. New Delhi: Penguin Books.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 111
Ähnliche
aurora metro press
Founded in 1989 to publish and promote new writing, the press has specialised in new drama and fiction, winning recognition and awards from the industry.
Theatre Centre, plays for young people, ed. Rosamunde HuttISBN 978-0-9542330-5-1 £12.99
The Classic Fairytales, retold for the stage by Charles WayISBN 978-0-9542330-0-6 £11.50
Plays for Young People by Charles WayISBN 978-0-9536757-1-5 £9.95
Young Blood, five plays for young performers, ed. Sally GoldsworthyISBN 978-0-9515877-6-8 £10.95
Black and Asian Plays, anthology, introduction by Afia NkrumahISBN 978-0-9536757-4-6 £9.95
Six Plays by Black and Asian Women Writers ed. Kadija GeorgeISBN 978-0-9515877-2-0 £7.50
Best of the Fest, new plays celebrating 10 years of the London New Play Festival, ed. Phil SetrenISBN 978-0-9515877-8-2 £12.99
Seven Plays by Women, female voices, fighting lives, ed. Cheryl RobsonISBN 978-0-9515877-1-3 £5.95
Graeae, plays 1, redefining disability, introduced by Jenny SealeyISBN 978-0-9536757-6-0 £12.99
Three Plays by Jonathan MooreISBN 978-0-9536757-2-2 £10.95
Devotion by Leo ButlerISBN 978-0-9542330-4-4 £7.99
Under Their Influence by Wayne BuchananISBN 978-0-9536757-5-3 £6.99
Lysistrata, the sex strike, by Aristophanes, adapted by Germaine Greer and Phil WillmottISBN 978-0-9536757-0-8 £7.99
First published in the UK in 2003 by Aurora Metro Publications Ltd. 67 Grove Avenue, Twickenham, MIDDLESEX, TW1 [email protected]
Harvest © copyright 2003 Manjula Padmanabhan
All rights in this play are strictly reserved. Applications for a licence to present performances including professional, amateur, recitation, lecturing, public reading, broadcasting, television and the rights for translation into foreign languages, should be made before rehearsals begin, to: AURORA METRO PRESS [email protected] Tel. 020 3261 0000
In accordance with Section 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, the author asserts her moral rights to be identified as the author of the above works.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Printed by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, UK ISBN 978-0-9536757-7-7 Ebook conversion by Swift ProSys ISBN 978-1-906582-37-1
HARVEST
by
Manjula Padmanabhan
AURORA METRO PRESS
Harvest
The inspiration for Harvest was the flourishing illegal trade in human organs in India. The buyers are Indians as well as non-Indians while the donors are poor villagers for whom the Rs 20,000 (approximately 444 US dollars) they are typically paid for a kidney represents an unimaginable fortune.
The germ of an idea involving this trade had just begun to sprout when I read about the Onassis Theatre competition, in late 1995. The theme for the competition was “the challenges facing humanity in the next century”. It seemed to me that the organ trade provided an appropriate platform for discussing some of the possible challenges, particularly in the context of multi-national corporations. The scale of the play, however, is intimate, restricted almost entirely to the four members of a small urban family.
Manjula Padmanabhan
Harvest
Manjula Padmanabhan
The play won first prize in the first Onassis Cultural Competition for Theatre, in 1997. It premiered in Greek at the Teatro Texnis, Athens, directed by Mimis Kougioumtzis. It has also been broadcast by the BBC World Service and made into a feature film, directed by Govind Nihalani, titled Body.
CHARACTERS
(DONORS)
Twenty years old, he has been laid off from his job as a clerk and is the bread-earner of his small family. He is of medium height, nervy and thin. He would be reasonably good-looking if not for his anxious expression.
Om’s wife. Thin and haggard, she looks older than her 19 years. Her bright cotton sari has faded with repeated washing, to a meek pink. Like the others, she is barefoot at the outset. She wears glass bangles, a tiny nose-ring, ear-studs, a slender chain around her neck. No make-up aside from the kohl around her eyes and the red bindi, (the colour indicates that she is married) on her forehead.
Om’s mother. She is sixty years old, stooped; scrawny and crabby wears a widow’s threadbare white-on-white sari. Her hair is a straggly white.
Om’s younger brother, seventeen and handsome. The same height as Om, he is wiry and conscious of his body. He works as a male prostitute and has a dashing, easy-going likeable personality.
An elderly neighbour, very similar in appearance to Ma, but timid and self-effacing.
Also: Urchins, children and the crowd outside the door. The crowd is audible rather than visible.
(GUARDS)
The Guards are a group of three commando-like characters who bear the same relationship to each other whenever they appear. Only Guard 1 interacts with the Donors.
is the leader of the team, a man in his mid-forties, of military bearing.
is a young and attractive woman, unsmiling and efficient.
is a male clone of Guard 2.
(AGENTS)
are space-age delivery-persons and their uniforms are fantastical verging on ludicrous, like the costumes of waiters in exotic restaurants. Their roles are interchangeable with the Guards, though it must be clear that they do not belong to the same agency.
(RECEIVERS)
is the blonde and white-skinned epitome of an American-style youth goddess. Her voice is sweet and sexy.
is never seen. He has an American cigarette-commercial accent – rich and smoky, attractive and rugged.
Note: For the sake of coherence this play is set in Bombay, the Donors are Indian and the Receivers, North American. Ideally, however, the Donors and Receivers should take on the racial identities, names, costumes and accents most suited to the location of the production. It matters only that there be a highly recognisable distinction between the two groups, reflected in speech, clothing and appearance. The Guards and Agents are intermediate between the extremes, but resemble Donors more than Receivers.
Time: The year is 2010. There are significant technical advances, but the clothes and habits of ordinary people in the ‘Donor’ World are no different to those of Third World citizens today. Except for the obviously exotic gadgets described in the action, household objects look reasonably familiar.
ACT ONE
SCENE 1
The sound of inner-city traffic: grimy, despairing, poison-fumed. It wells up before the curtains open, then cuts out to a background rumble as… the lights reveal a single-room accommodation in a tenement building. It is bare but neat. In the foreground, stage left, is a board-bed across the tops of three steel trunks. Ma sits on the bed, near her is the front door. Jaya stands by the window stage right. To the rear is the kitchen area.
No, but –
Or help him get the job?
I don’t want him to get it!
Eh?
I said, I’m hoping he doesn’t get the job.
Oh – I forgot! Missie Madam doesn’t want her husband to earn a living wage – like she should! Like any reasonable, respectable wife would –
You don’t understand.
My son’s wife doesn’t appreciate him – that’s what I understand.
… like every husband’s mother before you.
And how would you know what a mother knows?
I have your example, don’t I? – Oh, there! I think I see him!
Well – job or not, he’s not got wings, that I can tell you. He’ll still have to climb four floors getting up here. But – what does he look like? Is his face shining? Are his footsteps sweet?
It’s a bit far to see such details.
Pah! As if you can see them even when he’s right in front of you. Now I can see them even without looking at him. Just from the sound of his feet. His little feet! Like flowers they were.
Oh, please! The way you go on!
Jealous!
You’d like to think that.
And rude to boot. Why, you’re hardly human! You must have grown up in a jungle!
Leave me alone.
Alone, alone! Have you seen your neighbours? Ten in that room, twenty in the other! And harmonious, my dear! Harmonious as a TV show! But you? An empty room would be too crowded for you!
That’s because I live with two people who pretend the other two don’t exist.
Meaning what?
Meaning that you and Om behave as if me and Jeetu don’t exist.
Don’t talk to me about that Jeetu.
See what I mean? You pretend he’s not here, so I’m the one who cooks for him, I’m the one who worries about him…
You worry far too much about that one, if you ask me.
Your younger son!
Nah. The gods left a jackal in my belly by mistake when they made him… maybe that’s why you like him – he’s just like you, rude, insolent, ungrateful…
Me? Like him?
Think I don’t see the way you wet yourself when he walks in the door. Yes! Your brother-in-law – ohhh, the shame of it! You’ll suffer in your next life. See if you don’t! You’ll be made into a cockroach and I’ll have to smash you (lifts her bare foot and stamps hard) – just like this one. (shows Jaya the underside of the foot) See? Do you see your fate?
There! That’s Om. (goes to the door, steps out)
Yah, yah! Go on – running out to meet him, like some idiot schoolgirl! Think I’m taken in by it? Because I’m not! I see everything! Even inside your head!(The door opens. Om walks in) Ah, my son! My own boy! What news? (Om, carrying a bulky parcel, looks dazed. Jaya comes in behind him and shuts the door) No hope? Nothing at all? (Jaya stares at Om) They’re fools, that’s all! Don’t recognise a diamond when they see one! It’s their loss. Still – it would have been nice. A change. A godsend. How’ll we manage now?
What is it? What happened?
I got it. (puts the package down. Jaya stifles a sob.)
What? Say that again?
I got it. I got the job.
Oh! Say it again! Say the blessed words again! Never stop saying it! “I – have – got – the – job!” Ah my soul, my heartbeat! Come, kiss me! Let me hold you, fondle your ears! Why am I surprised? You deserve every success.
Yes. It was quite easy, in the end.
Bring him a glass of milk! Bring him two glasses! Come here, my darling boy! My only delight! Let your old mother hug you to her belly!
There were six thousand men…
Six thousand! Waiting in the sun!
No. Inside a building like a big machine. They had… like iron bars, snaking around and around. And everywhere there were guards…
Police, you mean?
You’ll see them for yourself any minute now – they’re coming.
Right now?
They have to check. To set it all up.
Set what all up?
You mean it’s not certain yet?
They’re just checking the building.
For what?
Better train your mother to tie her tongue down!
Hear that? How your wife speaks to your mother?
Ma – when the men come, you must keep quiet.
As if I ever get a chance to speak!
She can pretend she doesn’t understand!
Yes, Ma. It’s the best way. Behave as if you don’t understand, when they ask.
But why? Have you done something wrong?
There’s no time to explain! You’ll know for yourself any minute now.
For how long is the job?
They didn’t say…
And what will they pay you?
A lot.
Huh! That’s how paupers talk – “a lot”. Listen to the rich? They’re on first name terms with all the leading numbers – hundreds, thousands, hundred-thousand –
We’ll have more money than you and I have names for! Who’d believe there’s so much money in the world?
Ho!
Can we be sure?
You met with the top men? They spoke to you themselves?
No …
Pooh! Then you’ve got nothing!
We were standing all together in that line. And the line went on and on… not just on one floor, but slanting up, forever. All in iron bars and grilles. It was like being in a cage shaped like a tunnel. All around, up, down, sideways, there were men –
Doing what?
Slowly moving… all the time. I couldn’t understand it… Somewhere there must be a place to stop? To write a form… answer questions… But no. Just – forward, forward, forward. One person fainted but the others pushed him along. And at the corners a sort of pipe was kept…
For what?
To pass water – what else!
Even while moving?
You had to be quick. Other men would squeeze past behind the fellow who was doing his business. Some-times there was no place and he’d have to move on before he finished, still dripping.
Shee!
What could we do? Foo! The stench! The heat!
And then?
I don’t know how long we moved for. Then there was a door. Inside, it was dark, like being in heaven! So cool, so fresh! I fainted then, with pleasure, I don’t know. (reliving his movements) I wake up to find the ground moving under me –
What? How’s that?
I don’t know. But the floor is moving. And a sign: ‘Remove clothing’.
Naked!
