It can take you by surprise, the sheer richness contained within a single episode from the Mahabharata. One incident can pull together innumerable threads, drawing a picture that’s brimming with contradictions, complications, philosophy, pathos and emotions. It’s not easy to bring each of these facets to life, and definitely not easy to showcase them in mere words.
In Gulzar’s hands, they are hardly just words, though, and in Paansa, a play that was originally a long poem in English, titled Yudhishtar and Draupadi by Pavan K. Varma, he uses words like he’s always used them — playfully, delicately, simply, and beautifully. Written by the Delhi-based Varma, translated by Gulzar and directed by the renowned Salim Arif, “Paansa” premiered in the Capital at the Siri Fort Auditorium recently.
Turning the spotlight on the particular episode in the Mahabharata that occurs towards the end of the twelfth year of the Pandava’s exile, Varma’s poem focuses on the relationship between a still bitterly angry Draupadi and a repentant and austere Yudhishtar. Varma begins the story after four of the five Pandavas lie dead, having drunk from a pond that holds poisonous water. Draupadi and Yudhishtar remain, both standing apart, consumed by their own thoughts and barely speaking to each other. She dwells on the anger that followed Yudhishtar’s decision to gamble her away, and he is restrained by his own severity and wracked with guilt.
After the play, Varma spoke to the audience, telling them how, unknown to him, Gulzar had translated the entire text. And it is this text, and the words penned by Gulzar, that Arif moulds into a play, introducing songs and dance sequences that are woven into the performance, the singers and narrators occupying the sparsely set stage for the entire duration of the play. Despite the change in form and language, the words stay true to the poem, maintain rhyme, rhythm and style.
“Paansa” is a tricky play. With very little action apart from the fleeting dance sequences, it relies almost entirely on the power of the words to pull in the audience. It dwells deeply on the ideas it wants to examine and long monologues by both Draupadi and Yudhishtar become the focal point of the play. Each word is heavy with meaning, and tells the audience of Gulzar’s mastery. Though set in a different yuga , the lines are reminiscent of the present age, invoking the complications and turbulence that riddle the love between a man and a woman as well as the idea of honour, duty and forgiveness.
The first half of the play puts Yudhishtar and Draupadi in their own, reflective bubbles. They stand together on the stage and yet the distance between them is palpable. There is minimal eye contact, and almost nothing you can call a conversation. It is the second half of the play, one that brings the Yaksha to the stage, which changes things. The Yaksha, who is later revealed as Yudhishtar’s father Dharma, asks the eldest Pandava questions, and each answer given is steeped in philosophy, wisdom and pragmatism. This exchange brings forth a certain pace too, one that perhaps transforms the performance from a dramatic reading to a play.
A dense play, at once serious, self-reflective and thoughtful, “Paansa” isn’t an easy watch, but it brings together some interesting ideas, and some great performances. Amit Behl’s Yudhishtar is the image of self-control, with a smooth delivery and a calm demeanour. Lubna Salim plays her Draupadi well too, introducing in the character a certain vulnerability and strength. And the Yaksha, played with a kind of élan by Bakul Thakkar, is captivating.
Gulzar called the Delhi performance of the play the best he had seen so far, and certainly, though slow in pace but crowded with ideas, “Paansa” is a work of art.
