Waiting For Godot or Waiting for ourselves

Samuel Beckett has a brilliant play called Waiting for Godot. The story of people waiting under a tree for a man named Godot. We do not know who Godot is? Is it a man or a woman? Who are Vladimir and Strogan and what are they doing? What stands out most in this play is the waiting and the passivity.

I live in Iran. The economic situation is very deplorable. The condition of the corona as well. Social conditions are very bad. A student is reported to have committed suicide due to poverty and lack of a tablet for school. And I think of Godot more than anything these days.

So far I have been able to see two performances of the play Waiting for Godot. The first performance was directed by Homayoun Ghanizadeh and the second performance was directed by Amirreza Koohestani.

Waiting for Godot By Ghanizadeh


As an amateur theatregoer, I had critiques of these performances. but I don’t want to write about that. I want think and speak about the impact of “waiting for Godot” on me.

Waiting for Godot By Koohestani


Passivity and effort that is not the effort are most like to foolishness behaviour. waiting and waiting and waiting and … I think about VLADIMIR and ESTRAGON, about their attempt to save their life, and same time speaking about to hang themselves. day and night and day and … hope without real hope. trying without really trying. absurd. absurd.

In Iran, we had a young poet who did not live long, Forough Farrokhzad. This lady has a poem:

The saviour is sleeping in the grave


Perhaps Forough’s philosophy is very similar to Beckett. There is no saviour outside. there is in inside. We must save ourselves.

They do not move

What you read below is last curtain of waiting for Godot’s play:

ESTRAGON:

(Looking at the tree).

What is it?

VLADIMIR:

It’s the tree.

ESTRAGON:

Yes, but what kind?

VLADIMIR:

I don’t know. A willow.

Estragon draws Vladimir towards the tree. They stand motionless before it. Silence.

ESTRAGON:

Why don’t we hang ourselves?

VLADIMIR:

With what?

ESTRAGON:

You haven’t got a bit of rope?

VLADIMIR:

No.

ESTRAGON:

Then we can’t.

Silence.

VLADIMIR:

Let’s go.

ESTRAGON:

Wait, there’s my belt.

VLADIMIR:

It’s too short.

ESTRAGON:

You could hang onto my legs.

VLADIMIR:

And who’d hang onto mine?

ESTRAGON:

True.

VLADIMIR:

Show me all the same. (Estragon loosens the cord that holds up his trousers which, much too big for him, fall about his ankles. They look at the cord.) It might do in a pinch. But is it strong enough?

ESTRAGON:

We’ll soon see. Here.

They each take an end of the cord and pull. #

It breaks. They almost fall.

VLADIMIR:

Not worth a curse.

Silence.

ESTRAGON:

You say we have to come back tomorrow?

VLADIMIR:

Yes.

ESTRAGON:

Then we can bring a good bit of rope.

VLADIMIR:

Yes.

Silence.

ESTRAGON:

Didi?

VLADIMIR:

Yes.

ESTRAGON:

I can’t go on like this.

VLADIMIR:

That’s what you think.

ESTRAGON:

If we parted? That might be better for us.

VLADIMIR:

We’ll hang ourselves tomorrow. ( Pause. ) Unless Godot comes.

ESTRAGON:

And if he comes?

VLADIMIR:

We’ll be saved.

Vladimir takes off his hat (Lucky’s), peers inside it, feels about inside it, shakes it, knocks on the crown, puts it on again.

ESTRAGON:

Well? Shall we go?

VLADIMIR:

Pull on your trousers.

ESTRAGON:

What?

VLADIMIR:

Pull on your trousers.

ESTRAGON:

You want me to pull off my trousers?

VLADIMIR:

Pull ON your trousers.

ESTRAGON:

(realizing his trousers are down) . True.

He pulls up his trousers.

VLADIMIR:

Well? Shall we go?

ESTRAGON:

Yes, let’s go.

They do not move.

Curtain.

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