Like most art forms in the country, Urdu theatre has roots that run deep and strong, making digging into its past both difficult and incredibly rewarding. It churns up unexpected names and surprising connections. It’s a rich history too, steeped in royal patronage and, towards the latter half, movie connections (which is, after all, another kind of royalty today). And then there is the other list, a satisfyingly long one with names that have left indelible marks on the map of Indian theatre.
It is two such names that the 26th edition of the Urdu Drama Festival celebrates this year. Both towering literary figures of Urdu literature, Begum Qudsia Zaidi and Khwaja Ahmad Abbas were born in 1914, and paying tribute to them on their 100th birth anniversary, the festival presents plays written by or for them. Presented by the Delhi Government’s Department of Art, Culture, and Languages, and organised by Urdu Academy, the festival also aims to keep alive traditional Urdu theatre, year after year.
Anis Azmi, Secretary, Urdu Academy, feels that while Urdu literature has always been rich, in terms of drama, they have suffered. “Our literature is full of excellent novels, short stories, travelogues, ghazals, research, and so much more. It’s not less than literature in any other language. But when it comes to theatre, we have lagged behind, and that is the reality.”
Urdu doesn’t really have a specifically demarcated territory in India. Its theatre finds roots in the mid-19th Century, when it begins with rahas — musical compositions written, directed and designed by Wajid Ali Shah, Lucknow’s Avadh prince. It also, in 1854, finds itself described as “Parsi Theatre”, when, inspired by the celebratory holiday spirit of the British during Christmas and New Year, the Indian Parsi community set up the first theatre company. “In Bombay, the Parsis noticed that during New Year’s Eve, circuses, ballroom dancing and other entertaining activities would arrive in the city. So they thought that, as a business community, they’d also do something. They first started theatre in Gujarati, but then, identifying Urdu as a popular language then, they started doing plays in Urdu” says Azmi. The term “Parsi Theatre”, he adds, was because of the involvement of the community in the activity. “It was Parsi money, Parsi actors, directors and musicians, who set up these companies.”
It is this Parsi theatre that grew stronger, travelling to fairs and festivals across the country. They experimented and they grew, and soon, there were 290-odd Parsi theatre companies registered in India, with large troupes, sometimes 400-500 members strong. “It is then that Urdu theatre started to flourish and slowly gain respect. Before, it was considered Nautanki. But then, people from good families started joining in. It found support from royalty, and started touring the country.” These companies would perform a mixed bag of plays. Sometimes, they reinterpreted and adapted Shakespeare, and other times, they presented well-loved stories like Shirin Farhad and Laila Majnu. “They also performed Hindu mythological stories, like Veer Abhimanyu and Dharma Balak.”
And then, in 1931, things changed. With India’s first talkie, “Alam Ara”, the focus shifted, and suddenly, it was movies that require actors, directors, costume and set designers and more. “All of these things were there in Parsi Theatre. In 1932, almost like a wave, they all left for the two cities where movies were made — Bombay and Calcutta. Theatre companies became film companies, also set up then by Parsis, and they promised theatre artists more money, fame and respect. In less than a year, Urdu theatre almost ended,” says Azmi.
Art isn’t that easily killed, though, and it quickly finds patrons somewhere else. “In the 1930s, intellectuals who had been educated in Europe came to Jamila Millia Islamia in Delhi. The university was in its fledgling state then. These people, professors like Dr Zakir Husain, had been impressed by theatre abroad, and motivated people to start what was known as weekend theatre in Jamia. People still involved in theatre started collecting there, and around 1935, the concept of weekly theatre began.”
Other colleges followed suit, and soon, there were drama clubs in Bombay, Allahabad, Lucknow and Aligarh Muslim University. Once again, talent was nurtured, and Urdu theatre found its stars in budding playwrights, actors and directors.
“Post-independence, even more people joined them, especially the ones who had come to the country from the newly formed Pakistan. They were interested in theatre and wanted to practice it in Urdu. Sheila Bhatia, Deewana, Habib Tanvir, Qudsia Zaidi and so many more.”
The Indian Peoples Theatre Association (IPTA) too — performing more socially relevant Urdu plays, including adaptations of works by authors like Khwaja Ahmad Abbas, Ismat Chughtai, Ali Sardar Jafri and Sa’adat Hasan Manto — furthered the reach of Urdu theatre.
Today, with fewer, scattered practitioners, a unified theatrical tradition is difficult to pinpoint. Both low level of support for the language and its preservation, as well as a rise in the use of the more realistic but diluted form of language in scripts, reduces the number of playwrights and theatre artists using pure Urdu in plays. There are, of course, a number of amateur groups emerging, dedicated to practicing the traditional form of Urdu theatre, and it would be premature to say that this tradition is endangered. Of course, the problems lie in the reach and the potential, both underutilised. Despite navigating these crests and troughs, it is believed by many that Urdu theatre does not necessarily need a “revival”. Playwright and director Danish Iqbal, for example, says, “I would contest that word. We have been consistently doing Urdu theatre. It is a continuous process. There is of course a slump in Urdu activities as a whole. For example, qawwali was so popular once, but isn’t anymore.” Iqbal adds that today, there are definitely more artists, actors and artists more keen on performing Urdu theatre. “Once, there was a scarcity of suitable artists. Now it isn’t so.” Azmi too, talks about the slowly increasing reach of Urdu theatre. “Every year, we do a theatre workshop for children from government schools, Urdu medium schools and slums. We have held this workshop for over 28 years. Many of them have now grown up and gone on to become well recognised actors and director and theatre artists.” Iqbal has directed Qudsia Zaidi’s play, “Dhoban Ko Kapde Diye”, due to be performed today (Saturday) as part of the Urdu Theatre Festival. “Every year I write at least four Urdu scripts.” Interestingly, Iqbal observes that when he uses traditional, old flavour Urdu in his plays, the audience seems to both like and identify with the play more. “Perhaps they find it more polished, and it makes them nostalgic too,” he wonders, concluding that the language doesn’t pose a barrier.
A look at theatre in its many forms, a popular activity that enlivens the Capital. From reprising the history of Urdu theatre, which is being celebrated with the annual Urdu Drama Festival organised by the Delhi Government, to the narrative tradition of Dastangoi, now branching into performances tailored specially for children, to the concept of theatre walks, which help city dwellers connect with their architectural heritage.
