In March, almost a year after the earthquakes rattled the nation, when it’s survivors were still recovering from the trauma they experienced, a team of theatre artists embarked on a journey to the quake-affected districts in the outskirts of the Valley on the Junkiri, Nepal’s first mobile theatre. On it they staged the play

Manchinte Firante, adapted from Italian children’s author Lio Lionni’s famous work, Fredrich, into Nepali by Viplov Pratik and Som Nath Khanal, and directed by Rajan Khatiwada. After winning rave reviews from audiences elsewhere, the play is currently being staged at the Mandala Theatre in the Capital.

The play advocates how and why we should remain resilient in the time of crisis. Even more so, the play emphasises the significance of the arts in times of crisis. That perhaps is the reason that nudged the artists to parade their creation through the outskirts of the Valley.

Lights on: A group of villagers announce that they are leaving their hometown, which, we are told in subsequent scenes, comes as a shock to a flock of mice that are residing there. A gloomy prospect. What would they eat in absence of the corn that the farmers would grow annually? So they, the mice, as a whole make a commitment, to collect abundant corn that would help them stay afloat once the dreary winter set in. All of the members of the mice family start collecting all the corn they can. But not Manchinte. What is he doing when every one of the mice is collecting corn and fodder? He, with a guitar on his back, is basking in the sun and when a mouse asks him what he is doing, he says he is collecting the sun rays. It strikes the members of the family as downright absurd. In another instance, he says he is collecting words. And in yet another, he says he is collecting colours.

The reason why he is collecting the array of unusual and intangible things comes in a final telling moment. And it strikes the mice family as a heart-warming gesture. When the corn that the mice have collected all through Autumn slowly begins to dwindle, and the frigid cold of the winter gets them down to their knees, it is Manchinte’s guitar riffs and poetry—that come from the words he had earlier collected—that warms them up. And it is with the colours that he entices his community to imagine of brighter, sunnier days.

There is one thing the titular Manchinte aspires to teach to his community: That there is more to life than just food, water, and shelter. It seems, Manchinte, the mouse, feels the same way the great George Bernard Shaw felt about the arts: “Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.” And we understand why he played with music and words and colours when everyone about him was collecting corn.

Rendering the feel of a source material as illuminating and austere as this one in an adaptation is not easy. And above all it was not written as a play but as a children’s illustration book. On that account, it should be noted that the producers took great courage in deciding to adapt its comic characters on stage. But the project does not succeed altogether in its aesthetics. There are obvious glitches that the project suffers through and, in instances, the action does not resonate well with the audience.

Firstly: When everything is said about him—that he is funny and clever—we could be forgiven for wanting a fast-paced and sneaky Manchinte but are disappointed in what we find. Rather, Manchinte (played by Aashant Sharma) comes off as not just lazy but also as nondescript.

Second: the apparent contrivance. Didi (played by Srijana Subba), right from the beginning comes off as a cynical and sarcastic mouse. She does not like Manchinte much and everything that he does or says angers her. Further, she does not seem like someone who would care for anything except for herself. The audience craves to see something wonderful that makes Didi change her mind and all we are offered is a lacklustre sequence of close-your-eyes-and-imagine-this. It’s all tell and no show. Effort should have been given to making the final sequences more rigorous. The audience is left with the feeling that there certainly was a lot of room for improvement in the actual execution.

And then, while I waited for the dramatic tension to reach a crescendo, I found myself wondering why the spells of extended slapstick pantomimes put me off so much. Is it the lack of apt expression on the actors’ part, that would perhaps make it seem droll and exciting, or the lack of the director’s imagination to make it tick. Whatever the reason may be, I paid tribute to it with a yawn.

Looking at people and imagining that they are mice also takes a whole leap of faith on part of the audience. And when you are not offered anything more than some subpar characters frolicking here and there, without any apparent intention, it just doesn’t sink in.

Manchinte Firante, however, succeeds in its visual aesthetics. The colours and the lights employed are pleasing to watch, and complement the imaginary world of the mice well. Complementing its visual motifs is poignant music, by the band Slap Echo. And the carefully-conceived costumes also go well with the cast—comprising along with Sharma and Subba, Umesh Tamang, Laxmi Bardewa, Prembarsha, Sharada Adhikari, Sandesh Lamichhane, Shakti Rai, Sandeep Shrestha and Ingihopo Koinch Sunuwar—who act eloquently, despite some glaring glitches.

With a subject matter as illustrious as this one, Manchinte Firante reminds one of the play it could have been. It boasts an unquestionable and universal theme, but it wants to tell us things it wants to hear about itself. That a good piece of art and imagination can come as a breath of fresh air even in the worst of times, and how a work of art can make the crudeness of reality bearable.