When the Crows Visit (NHB Modern Plays)

Anupama Chandrasekhar

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781788502757
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

'…and all the sins of his father and his forefathers came out of his body, through the pores of his skin, in the form of crows.'

When a son returns home after being accused of a violent crime, a mother is forced to confront the ghosts of her past when the crows visit.

Inspired by true events in modern-day India, Anupama Chandrasekhar's play When the Crows Visit explores the themes of Ibsen's Ghosts and the cyclical nature of oppression.

This dark and thrilling play premiered at Kiln Theatre, London, in October 2019, directed by Artistic Director Indhu Rubasingham.

Scene One

Wednesday. JAYA’s room. JAYA is asleep. A crow caws loudly at the windowsill. JAYA jerks awake, a bit confused. She remembers something and thrusts her hand under her pillow. Pause. She hears something. She retracts her hand and hastily lies down and closes her eyes, when RAGINI enters with folded sheets and places them in the cupboard.

RAGINI. Patti! Are you awake? Come on! I know you’re wide awake. Your eyeballs are moving.

RAGINI puts on music. A young, rocking number from a recent Tamil film. RAGINI exer-dances.

Oh I love this song. Let’s get started! Let’s get those muscles limber and supple.

JAYA turns away from RAGINI, covering her ears.

Come on, old woman. We have to do this. What did the doctor tell you? Every day, without fail, or your legs will shrivel and die.

JAYA. Turn off that racket first!

RAGINI. Maybe this will inspire you?

RAGINI puts on traditional Indian music instead.

JAYA. Turn it off.

RAGINI. Come on! Up, up!

Get up, lazy bones. Don’t you want to be up and about like before?

JAYA. TURN IT OFF I SAY!

RAGINI. Okay, okay!

RAGINI turns it off.

Now shall we begin?

JAYA. I don’t feel too good. It hurts. Here. I think it’s my heart.

RAGINI (yells). Hema ma!

JAYA. What are you doing –

RAGINI. Hema ma? Please can you –

JAYA. Aiyyo! Stop! Shh.

RAGINI. Then get up!

JAYA sits reluctantly with RAGINI’s help.

Every day, every damn day I have to jump through hoops so you don’t become a cabbage.

Beat.

Are you wearing your diaper? What did you do with the diaper?

RAGINI looks under the bed, then goes to the window. The crow flies away. She looks out.

You’ve thrown it where every visitor to the house can see?

JAYA. It wasn’t me –

RAGINI. Who was it then? Monsters? Ghosts? Crows? Do you poop diamonds that someone would touch your stinky diaper? God! You’re higher maintenance than a baby!

RAGINI tries to force a diaper on JAYA. JAYA and RAGINI struggle.

Aiyyo, Amma, will you give me a break? I’ve loads of work to do still.

JAYA lets her put on the diaper. Silence.

JAYA. I am going to die.

RAGINI. Okay.

JAYA. In this room.

RAGINI. That is for the best. Shall we begin?

RAGINI stretches JAYA’s limbs regardless.

JAYA. Help! Someone! Anyone! I’m being murdered!

RAGINI. What a crybaby you are!

JAYA. I wish that you have nuts and bolts in your hips and knees, I wish that you are poked by little iron pieces all day and night.

RAGINI is unrelenting. More moans.

You’re a monster, a rakshasi. I curse that someone will cut off your breasts and nose and ears like Lord Rama did that rakshasi.

RAGINI. That’s a horrible thing to say.

JAYA. I wrote your name on the diaper, by the way.

RAGINI. What?

JAYA. With your marker pen. On both sides. And your phone number. Anyone who passes by will see it.

RAGINI stretches and bends JAYA’s limbs with some aggression.

Aaaa! Bitch! Stop it!

RAGINI doesn’t stop.

Please stop it!

A man’s looking at the diaper. He’s noting down your phone – aaaa stupid bitch, that really hurt!

Aaa gentle, please be gentle.

Okay, okay. I’ll do what you say, whatever you say…

Pause. RAGINI waits for the catch.

…if you dispose of the diaper.

RAGINI considers the proposition as she continues to stretch JAYA’s limbs.

RAGINI. You’ll do the exercises silently –

JAYA. Utterly silently… utterly… obediently.

RAGINI. Swear on your grandson.

JAYA hesitates. RAGINI stretches JAYA’s legs.

JAYA. Aaa – I swear on my grandson.

RAGINI stops the physio and heads towards the door.

RAGINI. No mischief when I’m gone.

JAYA. What can I do? I’m disabled.

RAGINI is unconvinced, but she exits. JAYA is about to reach under the pillow again when she hears footsteps. JAYA withdraws her hand from under the pillow and reclines nonchalantly. HEMA enters.

I finished my exercises, all of them!

HEMA searches for something on the table.

Does Akshay take the train?

HEMA. What?

JAYA. Yesterday, a young man was pushed off a train in Mumbai. They showed his body on TV. Mumbai is not safe these days. Every day a new crime. Tell Akshay not to take the train.

(Sighs.) Kadavuley, how long has it been? One full year since I last saw him.

HEMA. You video-chatted just ten days ago –

JAYA. It’s not the same. You fly to him whenever you feel like it. What about me? Poor boy, who knows how he is, living all alone in some godforsaken city, with no family, no food, nobody.

HEMA. He is, in fact, doing pretty well there – a raise just last month, good friends. I’d say, he is perfectly happy in Mumbai.

JAYA. You don’t know that.

HEMA. Of course I do – I’m his mother!

RAGINI enters.

Where were you?

JAYA. She’s supposed to take care of me. But how can she when she’s off gallivanting doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who?

RAGINI. Oy, Patti. Careful. What are you looking for, Amma?

JAYA. It’s in the living room, in the usual hiding place, next to the hideous vase. I saw it there at lunch.

HEMA. Did you?

JAYA. Yes. You were SMS-ing someone. Akshay likely.

Pause.

HEMA. I never said what I was looking for.

Beat.

JAYA. What else could it be?

RAGINI. I’ll check.

RAGINI exits. Silence.

JAYA. It’s seven years next month.

HEMA (yells to RAGINI, off). Did you find it?

RAGINI (off). No, Amma.

JAYA. Hema, you’ve been stubborn long enough. The planets… It’s too important this time – You must listen to me –

HEMA. Every damn year we go through this, every year we do nothing and every year we are fine – better than fine, actually, now that he’s gone. I’m the merriest widow that ever was.

JAYA. Shiva shiva, you don’t really mean that.

RAGINI enters.

RAGINI. It’s not in the kitchen either.

RAGINI takes her phone out from her bag.

JAYA. It is in the living room, I’m telling you. Go back there, switch on the light and look properly.

RAGINI calls on her mobile. Sound of a mobile phone ringing. RAGINI and HEMA try to trace it. HEMA lifts the pillow and finds her mobile. RAGINI and HEMA turn to look at JAYA.

(Pointing to RAGINI.) That witch must have kept it here when I was asleep.

RAGINI. She is crazy!

HEMA checks her phone.

Amma, this old woman is constantly doing some mischief or the other. I’ve never felt this exhausted working with old people before. I can’t continue like this on the pittance of a salary you’re giving me.

JAYA. Go then. Who is asking you...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Dedication
• Thanks
• Characters
• Glossary
• When the Crows Visit
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information