When I made Bengaluru home six years ago, I was told that for a theatre enthusiast, I had to visit Ranga Shankara. I had imagined Ranga Shankara to be an imposing structure of glass and cement. I felt ashamed to have had such a wrong notion. An art world within a bustling J.P. Nagar, Ranga Shankara environs welcomed me with open arms. Here, you didn’t have to be an elite art connoisseur or a novice. Ranga Shankara is meant for everyone. The space has been home to a whole range of performances. Some of the most outstanding productions from India and abroad have been staged here. And it has earned a reputation for ensuring that plays start on time. Once the bell goes off, the auditorium doors are closed. Too bad if you are late. Remember, the arts are to be taken seriously.
Last week, we went behind-the-scenes to see how this more than decade-old theatre, nurtured with dedication by Arundhati Nag, has many stories hidden in every corner. As we enter, at 6.45 p.m., for Nilanjan Chaudhuri’s The Square Root of a Sonnet, we see a snaking line forming at the entrance, all set to enter to get a good seat. But there are many who head to the Anju’s open-air cafe and others to Sankars book store, which has a wide range of an amazing collection of books, including theatre.
The sabudana vada, vada pav and aloo tikis with chai are hot favourites at Anju’s Cafe. A smiling Anju tells us that this is the eleventh year since the café was started. The café adds to the artistic ambience of the space, which is exclusively dedicated to theatre.
The guard who stands in attention at the entrance, ready to lower the rope once it is 7.15 p.m., tells me, “I don’t allow late comers. They have to wait till the interval.” At one end, the crew of the play are busy selling tickets. I enquire if I may look at how the stage is being set up for the performance. I am led through the back, through a small flight of stairs, near the stage, into the green room. Nilanjan Chaudhuri and Prakash Belawadi, the two performers, are busy rehearsing their lines, while another actor gets her hair and make-up done. The actors are remarkably calm. There is no palpable nervousness as one would expect of performance jitters. The stage has been set. The people handling lights and backstage work are ready, waiting for the audience to troop in.
I make my way outside to find that the line has now extended beyond the ticket counter. As I take my place in the queue, there are youngsters discussing the play. “Science play hain, I am interested in science.” “Have you watched plays before?” “No, this is my first play.” The close to 300-seater auditorium, with a thrust stage, is filled. Girish Karnad’s baritone voice on the PA system requests the audience to switch off their mobile phones. The curtains rise, there is pin-drop silence, and the play starts. After an hour’s performance, the interval is announced, and there is a tearing hurry to grab a bit of aloo tikkis and chai within ten minutes. The play resumes, and after an hour, when it comes to an end, some audience members rise to give a standing ovation. While we make our way out of the auditorium, I catch snatches of conversation on the play, how the performances were, if they would return to watch another play. The responses are mostly positive. There is no way theatre won’t touch a chord in your heart, especially in a place like Ranga Shankara.
