I am at Prithvi Theatre in Mumbai. On a hot, muggy summer afternoon, eager children of various ages traipse in with accompanying adults for a performance of “The Mighty Mirembayanna and the Prisoners of Peace”. What seems like another play in Prithvi's annual summer festival for children is really a foray into children's theatre by Q Theatre Productions (QTP) as part of its youth theatre initiative called Thespo. The cast comprises kids of various ages. The writers, directors and producers of the play are only a few years older than the young actors.
Meanwhile, young playwright and director, Ram Ganesh Kamatham, uses the social networking site Facebook to notify me about his new play “Bust” that premiered in Bangalore. And, almost simultaneously, I receive an e-mail from Rage Theatre with a subject line that reads ‘Want to be a better playwright?' If I respond with a script, I could be selected for a two-week residential playwriting workshop with mentors from the Royal Court Theatre where the best plays are then produced for the Writers' Bloc Festival.
Where there were a few big names in earlier decades, there has been a spurt in the number of small young groups on the English theatre scene. Meanwhile, festivals such as Thespo and Writers' Bloc are making a conscious effort to mine, showcase and hone new talent. A growth in English-speaking audiences, the opportunities made available to directors and Indian playwrights writing in English, among other factors, has led to a rejuvenation of English theatre after a lull (at least on the experimental front) during the 1990s.
Is the face, and the pace, of English theatre in India changing?
“Yes,” says playwright-director Ramu Ramanathan, who believes that English theatre has grown in the last decade. “There are three trends witnessed here — greater visibility (more shows, longer runs), more international collaborations and sponsorships (more money), and sometimes, big names as far as actors are concerned (larger audiences).”
And while English theatre was once seen as elitist and regional theatres as more in tune with their roots, these boundaries are slowly beginning to blur with the wider reach, or the democratisation of the English language.
“I believe we have got over our insecurities and are brave enough to speak in our own language today — our language which is our own English! We are talking of things that affect and concern us, in a language that is clearly ours too. Fortunately, we have moved away from the need to translate and adapt from Western theatre. So I believe that there is a brave new Indian theatre emerging today,” says Sanjna Kapoor, whose Prithvi Theatre has seen the shift over the last decade in the 30-odd years of its existence. She also attributes the change to the power and reach of the Web. Corporates too are taking theatre more seriously, believes Kapoor, and that, along with festivals, awards such as the Mahindra Excellence in Theatre Awards (META) have energised Indian theatre, provoking people to put their best work forward.
It's no surprise that some of the most interesting work is emerging from youth groups. QTP's Thespo aims to ‘recognise, encourage and showcase India's best youth theatre talent and to provide guidance and training to the future stars of theatre'. “At the end of the day it's about the under-25s who deserve to be seen by paying audiences,” says Quasar Thakore Padamsee, founder-director of this young group that was born in a classroom in St Xavier's College, Mumbai. Today, Thespo has even transcended language and geographical barriers. It has spread to Delhi and Bangalore, had groups from other countries such as Australia participate in the past, and this year a Marathi play “Geli Ekvees Varsha” by young Pune group Natak Company has been invited to a festival in Italy.
Blurring boundaries
“The novelty and freshness of youth inspires me to remain young,” says Hindi theatre stalwart Nadira Babbar, whose group Ekjute too recently launched its new summer workshops called ‘Performers' in acknowledgement of youth theatre and as an extension of the work they are already involved with. She agrees that language boundaries are beginning to blur, if only in the urban setup. Recently, Rage production “One on One” included eight short pieces in English and two in Hindi. “We hadn't advertised it as a play in any particular language but the Hindi pieces were the most popular,” says actor-director (and one of Rage's founders) Shernaz Patel who believes that because most people speak both languages in Mumbai, one theatre does feed off the other. Crossover groups such as Adishakti in Pondicherry too have successfully imbibed the languages of various theatres to develop their own unique language.
In the 1960s and 70s, theatres across the country dialogued more with each other. “Perhaps there were fewer players and you had great catalysts like Satyadev Dubey with enormous generosity and energy, who shared scripts, instigated productions across various languages and were deeply curious about each other's work,” says Kapoor. In later decades, meanwhile, there was a gradual shift in focus from the experimental to the mainstream.
However, says writer and theatre critic Shanta Gokhale, although successful plays such as “All The Best” and “Gandhi Vs Gandhi” have been translated into different languages, the various theatres of India are “locked out” from each other. While she lauds the work of Thespo for bringing Indian language theatre to English-speaking audiences, and playwright-directors such as Ramanathan, Mahesh Dattani and Rahul daCunha for producing original plays in English with Indian-inspired themes, she has her reservations about the so-called ‘resurgence' in English theatre. “We are becoming a unilingual society and with a rise in the English-speaking populace, there's bound to be a widening in the audience. But a few names do not a theatre make,” she says, adding that it takes dozens of writers to call it a mature theatre. “Theatre emerges from tradition and history. Which tradition or history can they draw from?” she asks.
“The colonial tradition that we have inherited,” replies Ramanathan. “One can't shake it off,” he says. He believes that plays with Indian concerns are transforming English theatre, citing the example of Rage's “I'm not Bajirao”, a western play adapted to middle-class Mumbai sensibilities that brought about a dramatic shift in audience.
Ramanathan's own plays such as “Mahadevbhai”, “3, Sakina Manzil” and “Cotton 56 Polyester 84” have drawn a varied audience for their local historical concerns. And now, Ram Ganesh Kamatham and Abhishek Majumdar, already touted as young playwright-directors to lookout for, are carrying on this tradition. Both are products of youth workshops and festivals. Majumdar, “whose primary language is English but sensibilities are both Bengali and Hindustani”, believes that a play needs to go beyond language but that it is in Indian English needs to be set very clearly. His own “Lucknow ‘76”, a historical play that begins with the reign of Queen Victoria in India in 1876 and ends with the Emergency under the Indira Gandhi government, includes monologues in various Indian languages including Gujarati, Marathi, Bengali, Assamese and Kannada.
Evolving vocabulary
Meanwhile, Kamatham believes that there are new audiences out there that understand a new grammar — a grammar that will continue to evolve. As part of a generation that watches Youtube, plays PS2 and processes information faster, his plays have more action, he says, than eloquent lines. His play “Crab”, about a mountaineer, explores the savagery of the rat race in a pan-Indian urban space. “Theatre is adapting and reacting,” he says.
And yet, there continues to be the one thing that seems to bind the various theatres together — the struggle for survival. Almost everyone agrees that the only reason for the existence of theatre is the passion shared by its artistes. High rents and meagre earnings continue to force them to supplement their income through other means, or to eventually leave for greener pastures. While theatre garners governmental support the world over, this is sadly lacking in India. “The government has built large, grand auditoria that are lying vacant for lack of an adequate audience and unaffordable rents,” says Babbar whose dream is to build a small theatre. “Instead, they could have built numerous smaller, less luxurious theatres in those spaces,” she says, adding that the Indian government “owes it to us.”
So where will English theatre in India go from here? While the mood is upbeat, the tone is introspective. “You need to draw a great line, before you move on to circles and triangles,” says Ramanathan. “People now know what to say but they are grappling with how to say it. We still need a master, a wordsmith like Thomas Pynchon, who will change the way we look at language,” he muses. And, “for every good play,” rues Patel, “there are 10 bad ones.”
Indian theatre still lacks the expertise of international theatre, says Kamatham, like the dramaturgist — something like an editor in the publishing space, or a specialist who tweaks the play and tests it for feasibility — and a director who has the sensibility for new writing, that needs an approach far different from staging a Shakespearean play. “Each of us will be compared to stalwarts responsible for the foundation of Indian theatre,” says Majumdar, “we need to focus on form and craft; to reflect on who and where we are, and work accordingly.”
However, there's no denying that there is much to look forward to as English theatre attracts more players and a wider audience. While Kapoor believes that the sense of isolation is wearing away, leading to the evolution of a theatre of strength and vigour, along with a discerning and demanding audience, Quasar Thakore Padamsee says, “I read somewhere once that theatre will always survive, because it is communal. Where people come and see other people in the flesh. So when technology takes over and people grow more and more alienated, the theatre will be a haven.”
