Someone you enjoy hanging out with.
I enjoyed a spirited discussion about one of the courses we’d shared together with this animated, smiling and thoughtful man who was genuinely interested in the union of advocacy and theatre I’ve been doing for so many year.
He asked me questions which weren’t just perfunctory, “what do you do” words, but wanted to know about the challenges I might have run into along the way. And he had an ease about him in the midst of some slightly more tightly wound people that drew me to him.
His wife was just as friendly, just as curious, just as easy to talk to and the three of us found ourselves gravitating toward each other during breaks for the entirety of a day, sharing opinions, insights, and many jokes.
they bring the same energy to their “formal” presentations
The next day, after reading the bios of some more of my fellows, it dawned on me who his wife was: Amal Allana, one of the keynote speakers, and a very important figure in theater in India.
When I met them over breakfast the next day, I said to Amal,
“I feel so stupid. I didn’t realize who you are.”
“Oh, I am somebody?”, she laughed.
“What I mean is, that you are giving today’s keynote. If I hadn’t read your bio last night I wouldn’t have realized that you would be speaking.”
Nissar interjected.
“But you don’t know who I am?” He had a twinkle in his eye (and in truth, I still didn’t know the extent of it).
“Why, you’re her husband.” I teased him back.
“Oh, now you have hurt my feelings. I feel very sad. I am just a husband?”
He sounded a bit more serious and I wasn’t sure if we were all teasing one another anymore. I said, with no joke in my voice,
“I’m sorry but I haven’t read your bio yet. I know from our conversations so far that you must have something to do with lighting and set design and of course, theatre. And I imagine you are very good at it because the things you have shared with me have been very thoughtful. I’m sorry if I don’t know who you are. I’m a stupid American who lives a sheltered life.”
“Nyla,” he said, “I am only teasing you. I am glad you don’t know who I am anymore than I know who you are. This means we have met, the three of us, as real people. Just ourselves. We are equals and we are friends.” He touched me reassuringly and Alana laughed.
“Oh, I like this”, she tittered, looking at her husband. “Nyla,” she continued, “you are a good person. You have an interesting mind. We will talk more later. But sadly, I now must go prepare for my talk.”
“I want to hear more about your film project, the Choices one.” Nissar said as they turned away.
And then they walked off, arm in arm, affectionate spouses who are also clearly equal partners.
I decided to put an end to my ignorance. I googled Nissar. This is what came up:
The man designed and decorated set for Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi.
and this:
http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/dramas/interviews/21-nissar-allana-interview.asp#
and together, these two warm, pretentious free people, bring this:
http://www.thehindu.com/thehindu/mp/2005/07/21/stories/2005072101000100.htm
I will cover Amal’s talk in a future posting because it was powerful and very important.
This entry is for Nissar, who was not speaking at Oxford this time.
“So Nyla,” he said, sometime later that evening, “have you figured out what I do yet?” He laughed good naturally.
“Oh, something or other to do with theatre which has made you famous it seems.” I smiled at him. “Unless that is a different Nissar.”
He liked that and said, “Maybe it is, maybe it is.”
Amal turned to him and said, “Oh, I sometimes think it is a very different Nissar” and then she smiled impishly at me.
A “famous man” with a “famous wife” who is comfortable with himself and completely unimpressed by the trivial externals. A man who is nice.
Days and many conversations later, when he asked if he and Amal could come visit me in Oregon next year when they come to America, of course I said yes.
We had become friends, just us, as real people.