But (yes, there is always a but), there is a hitch. As the tale of two intertwining lives unfold in front of us, we realise that the supposed protagonists, a Mumbai migrant struggler running from police and a Kolkata college dropout who dreams of being a magician, exist merely as adjuncts of a greater scheme. They pop in, do their parts, and disappear once more. What happens to them between scenes? Bewilderment sets in. A volley of characters emerge out of nowhere, they rave, rant and mouth some more profanities, before blending into what can only be called a tableau of sequences. For Video exists in fragments. Each act of the play ends in a spectacular tableau-like scene where De Biswas unmistakably pays homage to a series of post-modern plays he draws inspiration from. The sequences, aided by psychedelic lights, snappy background score, are supposed to project the “hallucination induced street-youth culture”, which we hardly ever talk about. They project the ferocity of youth through performances of dhakis, electronic sound-scapes, wild dancing, drug induced visions and frenzied fights set against the anarchic political structure of the two cities. Which is all very inspiring but one wishes that the play didn’t forever wave its metaphorical arms in the air and shout at you to notice its extreme cleverness, with which it is reinventing a genre and for which it should receive copious accolades from all and sundry. One can’t help but wonder if the whole spectacle is not just a polite excuse to display the group’s wit and skill, with a lot of self-appeasing smugness.