“Can you shift a bit to your left? And keep your eyes up here…” Who, asked the bemused authors, was speaking to them? It felt a bit like t...
“Can you shift a bit to your left? And keep your eyes up here…”
Who, asked the bemused authors, was speaking to them? It felt a bit like the voice of god, but it was merely the tech team giving instructions to the writers/speakers from their perch on another floor at what was a hybrid version of the Bangalore Literature Festival. Authors were both online and offline, as was the audience, which was either logged in from home or in person right here right now.
This was a festival in real time, on ground, in the flesh. An old fest in a new, new world. Warm exchanges were going to be interrupted by disembodied directions, proximity kept at a distance, every interaction choreographed. Tiny human islands formed and un-formed over the next two days, over the cool weekend of December 12-13.
BLF kicked off day one session one with bestselling writer Anuja Chauhan commenting on the unusual amount of eye contact with her husband, filmmaker Niret Alva, who was in conversation with her on stage. And thus began the madness of ensuring this session after that, one speaker after the other, dialing the few virtual speakers in time, appreciating the live banter on stage.
