A literary hall of mirrors

That was what the play ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead’ have been described as. And it truly is, not just in the way it weaves in and out of Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’, but also the way the Players in this play are also the players in Shakespeare’s, and the reflections on life, drama, words and meaning draw the audience into the play, especially as lines, gestures and looks are thrown our way during the course of the play. This is probably one of my favourite pieces i’ve watched so far; it’s funny, thought-provoking, sad, and so very very well-written. It was great also that there were copies of the play sold, to commemorate fifty years of Tom Stoppard’s masterpiece.

i was a little embarrassed to realise upon going into the theatre that somehow i did not get an aisle seat for this show, so i had to step over the entire half row to get to my (great) seat near the middle. Next to me was a stately gentleman in a suit, who gave off a gentle vibe as i took my seat. During the intermission he stood up to go out, and i asked if he was getting out, and he said, “I am, indeed!” And so i led the way out across the row of seated people again, and after that waited for him to come back before tailing him into the centre. And we got to talking a little while waiting for the second half to start. It turns out that he is in London only for the weekend, and he had queued up this morning to watch ‘Hamlet’ this evening, after catching the matinee of ‘R&G are Dead’, and he was saying that with the bit of time left that he has in London tomorrow he will likely go to the National Portrait Gallery.

He laughed heartily during the play, and he sounded English, and he clearly was a man on a mission to enjoy the most of London as he can. And it moves me to know this is how one can live.

On the way back, as i speed-walked the winding road back towards my place through the shop where i wanted to go check out running shoes, i bumped into a classmate of mine. He’s someone i only got to say hi to in the second half of the term, and we shared probably only one class. But he’s clearly a third culture citizen of the world who reminds me of that friendly, sociable, enthusiastic, council president type that i’ve seen all through school. It was nice to see a familiar face along the streets, and hungover as he was, he gave me a hug. It is nice to have a friend enough who would give you a hug on the streets. If it were yesterday or the day before, i might have burst into tears. It’s kinda like C and B who became friends enough to put their cheek to mine when we say hi or bye, not minding that i’m the awkward Asian classmate who can’t tell them how much i appreciate it, even if i look taken by surprise at times.

Many times while i’m here i wonder what it might be like if my mum had come with me for my year in London. It’ll be completely different of course, but i think she would have loved it. And in some strange ways, i sometimes feel like i am becoming her, or i am her, or i am what is left of her.

When i first came, i used to think to myself that i came to London to forget, and it was too bad that London is such a place for remembering. Memorials are everywhere, plinths, sculptures, engravings on benches, monuments, blue plaques, ornate plaques, commemorative events and wreaths around every corner. But i guess it has become clear to me now too that i didn’t come to London to forget. In fact, i came here to remember. And it does help me remember, and also to know that i am not the only person who is both trying to remember and trying to forget every other day; so many people are, not just here, but everywhere.

The glimpses of raw human emotions and struggles are actually really really hard to bear. Especially when we are in a hall of mirrors, and everywhere you turn they are there.