Deccan Chronicle | An anatomy of fate: two lives, one story

"Like the color of my skin
Or the day that I grow old
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled"
(Patterns, Simon and Garfunkel, 1966).

Is life made of chaos or patterns too big for us to discern? Much rests on divine sleight in playwright Poile Sengupta's Alipha, as a story slowly unravels through the eyes of two people. She teaches the alphabet (alipha) to children, drawing them out in the sand with a stick in a schoolroom that doesn't even contain a blackboard. He is the son of a politician, crudely sensual, perhaps violent and thoroughly entitled. These two people have nothing in common although their lives are hopelessly intertwined. In Alipha, however, there are no teary-eyed meetings or fiery crisis points: life goes on, telling its stories, leaving us with more questions than answers.

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