Behind the Beautiful Forevers (eBook)
96 Seiten
Faber & Faber (Verlag)
978-0-571-31242-9 (ISBN)
David Hare has written over thirty stage plays and thirty screenplays for film and television. The plays include Plenty, Pravda (with Howard Brenton), The Secret Rapture, Racing Demon, Skylight, Amy's View, The Blue Room, Via Dolorosa, Stuff Happens, The Absence of War, The Judas Kiss, The Red Barn, The Moderate Soprano, I'm Not Running and Beat the Devil. For cinema, he has written The Hours, The Reader, Damage, Denial, Wetherby and The White Crow among others, while his television films include Licking Hitler, the Worricker Trilogy, Collateral and Roadkill. In a millennial poll of the greatest plays of the twentieth century, five of the top hundred were his.
It's not just that rich people don't know what they've got. They don't even know what they throw away. India is beginning to prosper. But beyond the luxury hotels surrounding Mumbai airport is an obstacle, amakeshift slum. It's home to foul mouthed Zehrunisa and her garbage sorting son Abdul, entrepreneurs both. Sunil, twelve, picks plastic. Manju, schoolteacher, hopes to be the settlement's first woman to gain a degree. Asha, go-to woman, exploits every scam to become a first-class person. And Fatima, One Leg, is about to make an accusation that will destroy herself and shatter the neighbourhood. Katherine Boo spent three years under the flight-path, recording the lives of Annawadi's diverse inhabitants. Now from Boo's book, which won the National Book Award for Non-Fiction in 2012, David Hare has fashioned an epic play for the stage which details the ingenious and sometimes violent ways in which the poor and disadvantaged negotiate with corruption to seek a handhold on capitalism's lowest rungs. David Hare's stage adaptation of Behind the Beautiful Forevers premiered at the National Theatre, London, in November 2014.
David Hare was born in Sussex in 1947. He is the author of twenty-nine plays for the stage, seventeen of which have been seen at the National Theatre. These include Plenty, The Secret Rapture, Amy's View, Gethsemane, The Power of Yes and South Downs. His many screenplays for cinema and television include Damage, The Hours and The Reader. He recently wrote and directed a trilogy of films for the BBC: Page Eight, Turks & Caicos and Salting the Battlefield.
2.1
It’s raining at a bus stop. Zehrunisa is in full burqa. She speaks to us.
Zehrunisa I’ve made mistakes. I know that. I’ve made mistakes from the start. You’re looking for the right person. They’re out there somewhere. Waiting to be bribed. Money! Money, yes, of course, money of course, but in whose hand? I spend the whole day visiting relatives. I tell them, I’ve sold our back room, now I’m selling the store room, I say. I keep telling them: we need money for lawyers, we need money for bail. They look at me, pitiless. I know what they’re thinking. ‘You should have paid the first bribe. On the first day. The very first one. If you’d paid the first bribe none of this would have happened.’
2.2
Annawadi is a monsoon flood bowl, the brimming sewage lake at the centre, with nothing but the Behind the Beautiful Forever wall and the hotels beyond. Fish-Lips is approaching through the rain, obviously angry. Zehrunisa turns at once.
Zehrunisa Officer, I’m sorry …
Fish-Lips What the hell happened?
Zehrunisa I can explain. Forgive me.
She falls to her knees.
Fish-Lips Where the fuck have you been? We had an arrangement, remember?
Zehrunisa Of course I remember. I’m very grateful, officer.
Fish-Lips It’s up to you. If Abdul isn’t a juvenile, then he’s in trouble. If he’s an adult, he goes to Arthur Road Jail. If you want to say goodbye to your son, or if you want him to come out a cripple. It happens.
He shakes his head.
To me, he looks like a grown-up.
Zehrunisa I really don’t think he is. He’s worked his whole life. He never went to school.
Fish-Lips You really don’t know how old he is?
Zehrunisa I do remember one thing about his birth. It was about the time Saddam Hussein was killing people. I remember Saddam Hussein was doing bad things.
Fish-Lips Well that narrows it down.
Zehrunisa Thank you.
Fish-Lips That really helps.
He is sarcastic, but Zehrunisa protests.
Zehrunisa I stopped in the road. He was born outside the Inter-Continental Hotel. He didn’t look like a baby. I looked down, he was in a pile of dirt, he looked like a rat.
For the first time Fish-Lips softens.
Fish-Lips That’s a nice hotel.
Zehrunisa It is.
There is a brief moment of contact.
Fish-Lips I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you.
Zehrunisa Thank you.
Fish-Lips I’m going to find you a school certificate. Do you know what that is? Saying he attended this school or that. Saying which class he was in.
Zehrunisa How old are you going to make him?
Fish-Lips I was thinking sixteen. Shall we? Sixteen seems right.
Zehrunisa It may even be true.
She takes money from inside her garment. Still on the ground, she hands notes over to Fish-Lips.
Fish-Lips He can avoid prison. He can go to Dongri. The Youth Detention Centre.
Zehrunisa How’s that?
Fish-Lips It isn’t too bad. Considering.
Zehrunisa He’ll be pleased. For the first time in his life, Abdul’ll know his age.
2.3
Dawn. The sound of the amplified call to prayer from mosques outside. Allah-u Akbar: God is Great. Dongri Youth Detention Centre. The shell of a colonial sandstone structure painted pink. Pictures of Gandhi, Nehru and Ambedkar. A different India. An enormous flat floor, on which 120 boys sleep laid out in a barracks in rows. The Guards arrive, a whistle blows.
Guard All right, everyone, time to get up. Get to it. Let’s get going. Come on.
The Guards patrol, handing out rags, as the boys get to their feet and go to wash at a line of upstage taps. At the front, Abdul has sat up and is rubbing his eyes, not moving. A pockmarked Guard comes by.
Husain, are you going to wash? Are you refusing to wash?
Abdul does not react.
If you don’t wash, you don’t get breakfast.
Abdul I don’t wash every day.
Guard Why not?
Abdul Because there’s no point. I work in rubbish. I just get dirty again.
The Guard waits. Abdul says nothing.
Guard What is it? Some kind of protest?
Abdul No.
Guard We don’t have protests.
Another Guard calls out ‘All right, everyone here.’ Abdul gets up. His uniform is too large, trousers puddling at his feet. His hands have filthy bandages. They stand in a circle and, with surprising enthusiasm, sing the National Anthem. Then they all sit down in the circle to be given breakfast – rice and hard bread. The Guard points at Abdul.
This one gets nothing.
The Guard goes. Abdul sits alone while everyone else eats. The Boy next to Abdul speaks to him.
First Boy You’re being stupid. It’s the first rule.
Abdul What is?
First Boy In Dongri. Don’t do anything stupid. Why aren’t you washing? Everyone washes.
Abdul And what’s the second?
First Boy What?
Abdul If there’s more than one rule?
First Boy The second is that you’re guilty.
Abdul Guilty?
One or two of the Boys laugh.
First Boy Yeah. Whatever you did. Doesn’t matter. Just say you did it. It’s easier. It’s just much easier. ‘Did you do it?’ ‘I did.’ ‘I did.’
He has raised his voice in mock-terror, and now all the Boys join in.
‘Did you steal that saucepan?’
All I did. I did.
First Boy ‘Did you steal that radio?’
All We did. We did.
First Boy ‘Did you steal that bicycle?’ ‘Did you kill your father?’ ‘Did you strangle your mother?’ ‘Did you rape your sister?’
All Guilty. Guilty.
There are improvised interrogations from all over: ‘Did you kill twenty people?’, ‘Did you poison your uncle?’, ‘Did you sell ganja?’, with everyone laughing: ‘Yes I’m guilty, I did it, I confess, I confess.’
First Boy You see, there you are. If anyone asks you, just own up.
Abdul Why?
First Boy Because, it’s obvious, that’s what they want. Give them what they want! Why not? It’s a waste of time claiming you’re innocent.
The pockmarked Guard has reappeared.
Guard All right, everyone, this morning you have a teacher.
There is a collective groan.
No, really, every day you’re meant to have a class. Well, today for once you do.
Second Boy Who is he?
Guard He’s called the Master. Face this way.
The Guard makes lines with his arms to denote where they are to sit, all facing one way.
All right, sit and wait here. He’s coming.
The Guard goes out.
First Boy I don’t believe it. What a fucking waste of time.
The Master comes in. He is middle-aged, pudgy, with high-rise hair and watery pink eyes. He reaches the point of command, then speaks into a...
Erscheint lt. Verlag | 1.1.2015 |
---|---|
Verlagsort | London |
Sprache | englisch |
Themenwelt | Literatur ► Lyrik / Dramatik ► Dramatik / Theater |
Kunst / Musik / Theater ► Theater / Ballett | |
Schlagworte | India • Mumbai • National Book Award • National Theatre • Poverty |
ISBN-10 | 0-571-31242-X / 057131242X |
ISBN-13 | 978-0-571-31242-9 / 9780571312429 |
Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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eReader: Dieses eBook kann mit (fast) allen eBook-Readern gelesen werden. Mit dem amazon-Kindle ist es aber nicht kompatibel.
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