Find your KOMMUNEity
I spent last Sunday evening amidst a big bunch of strangers; it wasn’t my first time. It was my fourth, to be precise. You see, I was at the KOMMUNE Storytellers workshop, and I felt completely at home. Kommune with a K (certainly not because of the planets and their warfare but due to the unavailability of the name) promotes arts and artists and provides them with a platform to enact their artwork to an appreciative audience. In a world that is perpetually online, this KOMMUNEity is a welcome gathering I look forward to, let me tell you why.
What is KOMMUNEity?
Take three reputed names in the media business as confirmed by their verified Twitter accounts. Add a ravishing beauty with international tastes to the mix. Finally, toss in some young kids because we need to keep this interesting. And you’re not even close. KOMMUNE is a Kommuneity not because of who they are individually, but because of what they bring to the table collectively, and whom they host at that particular meal, eventually. I love them for that!
What happens at a KOMMUNEity gathering?
Well, I am partial to their Storytellers workshops, but the essence remains the same across their other properties. So, as and when they announce an event, you pick the ticket online and land up, on time please – they really work the clock. Kommune conducts events across the length and breath of the city. However, I totally love it when it is at the Encompass quarters. For starters, that space is awesome with an F! No cap on the number of people who can attend, last-minute tickets always available, hot tea and coffee served (I have asked them to work on the sandwiches), and most importantly it is in the vicinity for me. So, there you go.
Once you are at the venue, pick a comfortable spot and nestle in. If it’s your first time, don’t worry. They love newcomers, and somewhere in between, they have the aboriginal virgin sacrifice ritual, too. I’ll come to that bit, later. So, now that you have picked your chair, had a cuppa and made yourself comfortable, do look around. You are greeted with smiling faces, some famous, some familiar but mostly happy, shiny faces. Strike a conversation or doff your invisible hat, mingle, meet and greet. It is the most fun part. It’s called socializing the old-fashioned way. Yes, yes, you can send them a friend request later. Bleddy Stalker!
Now you are no longer the odd one out. You have found at least three other people who have no clue what’s going to happen next. Huddle together and wait for the session to start. Here is where I need to take a cinematic pause. Remember that sacrifice ritual I was talking about? It fits just about this time in the schedule. I could continue to tell you what happens next, but where is the fun in that? You must experience it for yourself. What I can say though is about the stories that I heard. The ones that I took back home with me. The stories that became a part of my life. Like the one about calling a hooker for the first time that made me laugh so hard, I peed my pants.
Or the one about an exquisite looking tomcat that refused to mate because he was besotted by the 72 virgins promised in heaven. How Uno is a game about manovyagyanic dabaav, go figure. I particularly loved the one that talked about not being able to eat an ice-lolly with all the money in the world. Oh, the letter to man’s best friend had me bawling. The language was no barrier when I gave a standing ovation to Hindustan ka Musalman. I remembered another one such poem that had left me teary eyed, a poem that never started in the first place.
That letter to a father who had chosen to build another family, if only he could have heard it the way I did. Stories tumbled one after the after, in poetry and prose. No rules to craft them except one. They must be your actual experiences. Truth, in this case, is way better than fiction.
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