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तीन.  Pronounced tin, the Sanskrit word for three, which in the Devanagari form is ३.  A 3 with a tail. That’s the title of the play I have just drafted, and I’m pretty happy with it (though I’ll likely add a song or two as I revise the play).  Yes, this is what I have been working on, the play of the three woman in the cangues I wrote in a previous post.

But, as expected, it’s morphed into something that’s quite old, and it may be close to a set of masques (I’ve a scene with an elaborate dress, for one), with songs and dance.  But it’s also not the least bit courtly or elegant, and I think I’ve lifted some of the rudimentary tactics of ancient Greek theatre, no doubt translations by Anne Carson still floating about in my head.  These women are flat, even a little reductive.  It also takes a cue or two from Oregon poet Shaindel Beers, a touching on war and refuges, but that’s all in the background and submerged. It’s mostly a set of three voices, each caught in her own necessary self-absorption, each wholly seeking some reconnection.  The circuitry is a bit off, though, because these women, like most of us, are sad, lonely wrecks.

I’ve also written it with Shangri-La Springs in mind, where Ghostbird Theatre staged “No. 27” by Barry Cavin last spring.  We’ll see what ultimately becomes of it.



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