Bose tells a tale, plainly autobiographical in framework if not also in the detail, about an Indian named Kalagora who arrives in London by way of Manhattan on Millennium night. He paints vivid word pictures ("Mumbai – mind-fuck mega-city"). There are vignettes where he plays himself being interviewed by the US immigration officer from hell; "what colour underpants are you wearing?". These are effective and entertaining, although I’m not sure they make up a show. And I feel Bose needs to hone his acting skills to make the transition from page to stage fully persuasive.
This is essentially a long narrative poem. As such, it suffers from having the story narrated as opposed to played out. Devices are deployed to mitigate this - music, a film in triptych – and the language is never less than vivid. There are characters aplenty in this story. It feels ripe for opening out onto a film or television screen. I’m not convinced about it as a play.
- Craig Singer