Etched into memory, from my childhood, is an illustration from my neighbour’s English text book.
It’s a strange image. A fascinating drawing, of three persons. A man with a donkey’s head, a fairy holding onto that man, and beside them, a young man, with long pointed ears.
I got to know only after I reached middle school, thanks to a wonderful, story-telling, older cousin of mine, that that image was of Nick Bottom, Titania and Puck, three of the many characters from “Midsummer Night’s Dream” by Shakespeare.
This week, while watching the news of the world’s commemoration of Shakespeare’s 400th death anniversary, methinks I have experienced a certain personal enlightenment.
Thou art my reader. And Oh, I beseech thee thus. Hark! Whether thou believest me, or not, I too am in one of those seven ages of man, playing my part. Of an age, alas, that doth confound me much.
Take it “as you like it”. But we men and women, being merely players on this world, called stage, must make our own entrances and exits. Like how the Bard of Avon himself did.
He made his entrance on 26 April 1564, but his exit was on 23 April 1616, exactly four centuries ago.
This week, therefore, the world over and especially in his birthplace Stratford-upon-Avon, there is much tribute-giving for the words he invented for the English lexicon, and a great commemoration of his contribution to the English language.
But if you ask the students of English language and literature, they might confess that it is in fact “the tempest” he caused which is keeping them up and awake, for late nights, before exams.
They can schedule fifteen days to understand the jealous triangle with the vertices of Iago, Othello and Cassio. And to know how it caused Desdemona’s demise. Yet, on the “twelfth night”, they would still be exactly where they started.
Even after 400 years, this bard’s spirit might still be haunting them in the university examination halls, like that eerie ghost of “Hamlet” he once talked about.
Like it recently haunted UK’s Prince Charles, on 23 April 2016, when he suddenly jumped on stage to become “Hamlet” the Prince of Denmark, saying a few lines, for a while! (watch it here)
His brief performance, a BBC sketch, was a part of the tribute by Royal Shakespeare Theatre along with stalwarts such as Sir Ian McKellen, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Dame Judi Dench.
But let me come back to the point, of seven ages. Oh, how I wish I can remain in the age of a soldier, or a lover. However, I know I can see for myself, it is time for the age of ‘justice’ now. Perhaps.
With fair round belly, with eyes severe, with beard of formal cut, and full of seemingly wise saws, whom can I fool?! It’s surely the age of pantaloons soon.
When I was a school boy, two of my friends’ elder sisters played the roles of Portia and Nerissa, the heroine and her assistant, in their high school performance of “Merchant of Venice”. And I will never forget their beautiful bearded faces, as a sinister looking Shylock gravely mocked, “A Daniel come to judgement. Yeah.. A Daniel”!
During my university days, I had the pleasure of watching two plays in the best auditorium of our city, by a touring Royal Shakespeare Theatre Company, one of which was “Julius Caesar”. Acting in that play was Tamsin Olivier, the daughter of the great actor late Laurence Olivier.
And now, more recently, in January 2016, Shakespeare’s Globe performed “Hamlet” and we felt Shakespeare’s spirit move at Bahrain’s Cultural Hall, too.
But isn’t it a good thing? To let his spirit haunt us a bit, before we go into that seventh age of oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything?
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I got to know only after I reached middle school, thanks to a wonderful, story-telling, older cousin of mine, that that image was of Nick Bottom, Titania and Puck, three of the many characters from “Midsummer Night’s Dream” by Shakespeare.
This week, while watching the news of the world’s commemoration of Shakespeare’s 400th death anniversary, methinks I have experienced a certain personal enlightenment.
Thou art my reader. And Oh, I beseech thee thus. Hark! Whether thou believest me, or not, I too am in one of those seven ages of man, playing my part. Of an age, alas, that doth confound me much.
Take it “as you like it”. But we men and women, being merely players on this world, called stage, must make our own entrances and exits. Like how the Bard of Avon himself did.
He made his entrance on 26 April 1564, but his exit was on 23 April 1616, exactly four centuries ago.
This week, therefore, the world over and especially in his birthplace Stratford-upon-Avon, there is much tribute-giving for the words he invented for the English lexicon, and a great commemoration of his contribution to the English language.
But if you ask the students of English language and literature, they might confess that it is in fact “the tempest” he caused which is keeping them up and awake, for late nights, before exams.
They can schedule fifteen days to understand the jealous triangle with the vertices of Iago, Othello and Cassio. And to know how it caused Desdemona’s demise. Yet, on the “twelfth night”, they would still be exactly where they started.
Even after 400 years, this bard’s spirit might still be haunting them in the university examination halls, like that eerie ghost of “Hamlet” he once talked about.
Like it recently haunted UK’s Prince Charles, on 23 April 2016, when he suddenly jumped on stage to become “Hamlet” the Prince of Denmark, saying a few lines, for a while! (watch it here)
His brief performance, a BBC sketch, was a part of the tribute by Royal Shakespeare Theatre along with stalwarts such as Sir Ian McKellen, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Dame Judi Dench.
But let me come back to the point, of seven ages. Oh, how I wish I can remain in the age of a soldier, or a lover. However, I know I can see for myself, it is time for the age of ‘justice’ now. Perhaps.
With fair round belly, with eyes severe, with beard of formal cut, and full of seemingly wise saws, whom can I fool?! It’s surely the age of pantaloons soon.
When I was a school boy, two of my friends’ elder sisters played the roles of Portia and Nerissa, the heroine and her assistant, in their high school performance of “Merchant of Venice”. And I will never forget their beautiful bearded faces, as a sinister looking Shylock gravely mocked, “A Daniel come to judgement. Yeah.. A Daniel”!
During my university days, I had the pleasure of watching two plays in the best auditorium of our city, by a touring Royal Shakespeare Theatre Company, one of which was “Julius Caesar”. Acting in that play was Tamsin Olivier, the daughter of the great actor late Laurence Olivier.
And now, more recently, in January 2016, Shakespeare’s Globe performed “Hamlet” and we felt Shakespeare’s spirit move at Bahrain’s Cultural Hall, too.
But isn’t it a good thing? To let his spirit haunt us a bit, before we go into that seventh age of oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything?
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