Loser😔

Storytelling is a new art form that has become popular in Maharashtra. It's been thirty years now since we three writers started it. Venkatesh Madgulkar, Shankar Patil and I were our trio. Sometimes c. d. Madgulkar also comes with us. He gave the program the poetic name 'Katha Banthi Janak Katha'che', but it did not become very popular. Madgulkar's name and the word 'Janak' must have led people to suspect that this is a prose incarnation of the Geetramayana itself, hence the simple word 'Kathakathan' came into vogue.

There were scams in the beginning too. Since the word 'Kathathan' is not heard much, people also suspected that it might be something like 'Kathakirtan'. So a lot of older people started coming to the program, so initially I would say, "This is 'storytelling'. No kirtan etc. Kirtan is a very big thing. That's what they say Aptitude also has to be great. We are not so big. We will tell you our own stories and if possible, entertain you for the entire episode." I used to explain everything so much. Since then the scams started to decrease a bit and our program started running smoothly. This our storytelling gradually became popular. In some places there were events to be seen. A huge crowd of listeners erupted. The roar of laughter continued. Once I literally counted how many laughs a thing got by categorizing it into big laughs and small laughs. Each story was found to get a couple of hundred laughs. Sometimes the program would go on for three and a half to four hours, but it never happened that people got up. Even if we had told more things, people would have been ready to listen. We used to have this fog of storytelling success in our heads for a long time. During Ganeshotsav, events would be held for ten days at ten places and these ten days would fly by in a haze. 'Storytelling' programs are generally good and successful, but not without failures. Often programs It used to be so colorful that people could not believe that such a program would ever fail, but just like birth and death, success and failure are born. When there were failures, we used to be overwhelmed and realized that such an experience is also there. Once we had a storytelling program in a women's circle in Mumbai. The stories of Madgulkar and Shankar Patil are about rural life. In the rural areas, people used to laugh and laugh while listening to these Stories. Satara, Karhad, Pandharpur, Vita, Phaltan are our favorite playgrounds. We don't want to spoil the program, but the 'pitch' of Mumbai is very new to us. Among them, Madgulkar and Patil found it difficult, so they were not very happy when the program was held in Mumbai. They were a bit upset when they said the program was in the women's board and that too in Mumbai, but we decided to win this match and went to Mumbai. The event was held in a closed hall. I was a bit relieved to see this, as the program is always good in closed halls. That made me a little nervous. But when the program actually started About twenty-five-thirty selected women were present in the auditorium. Most of them are adults and seniors. Accidentally one- another young girl.

The chairperson was sitting on a chair next to us. He is also mature and has a high personality. The posture is very serious and as if listening to a lecture on philosophy. I know that today we are ambushed. My first story is done. She was urbane, so a smile flashed and faded from time to time, like a lightning bolt on some women's expression, but no noise pollution at all. Deep silence everywhere. What should describe my condition, then the condition of the other two senior artists? During their storytelling, the silence reached its highest point. Very quiet. No reaction anywhere, but all the ladies looked very cultured. He did not utter a single word of protest. No one even got up. There is no confusion at all. After that I narrated another Nagar story somehow. The same divine peace and the same posture! But then I got tired. "How much longer will this storytelling continue?" asked the chairperson. The chairperson approached me with a calm expression looked, then quietly asked, "What time is it?" The program started at 4 pm. It was now six o'clock, so I said, "Six o'clock-" "So? Then enough-" With that the President got up and coldly announced that the program was over. The audience also seemed to rise with joy at the sudden permission. Some sisters started gossiping among themselves. All three of us got up embarrassed and left with our heads down. A friend of ours had come to pick us up and was standing at the door watching our fujita. It is not a pity to be fajiti, but it is a great sorrow to be seen by someone. This made us even more embarrassed, but the friend consoled us. "Let him go, he must go!..." He said, "A trick to the devil! Let's make up for it now. Come on-" our illusion that the program is always good and colorful in the rural areas is also once and for all dispelled. A sugar factory near Kolhapur told us the same story