As a work of art, how does one deal with a hotly debated, politically volatile and already sensationalised event like the murder of someone like rationalist M.M. Kalburgi, without resorting to sloganeering, succumbing to righteous anger, plunging into despair or seething with frustration?
On the one hand, what you want to say is already known, well-dissected, polemically debated; on the other, the lines that divide the rational from the irrational, liberatory from the divisive are also marked and clear. You can either be on the side of the free and the rational-thinking or with brute and blind forces of violence and unfreedom.
So, where is the scope here for a play that needs a certain amount of narrative manoeuvrability, grey ethical areas and ambiguity of characters? In these dark times, every play dealing with a political topic like this is a journey over the razor’s edge, both aesthetically and politically. Politically, it could run into problems with the powers-that-be; aesthetically, it has to express its anger and convey its truth in a fresh idiom and searing language, yet connect with the audience. Veendum Bhagavante Maranam , presented by Kanal Samskarika Vedi and directed by Hazim Amaravila, is one such valiant attempt of our times.
Based on a story written by K.R. Meera immediately after the murder, the story focuses on the relationship between a professor, a rational thinker, Amara, a young assassin, and Mallappa, his fundamentalist mentor. It follows the journey of the fanatic Amara arriving to murder the professor, who then gets hurt, and is physically and spiritually ‘treated’ at the professor’s home. He repents and becomes a convert through words of wisdom and acts of kindness. Later, when the professor is murdered by another fanatic, he takes ‘revenge’ upon Mallappa by injuring him and trying to ‘reform’ him.
While following the same storyline, the play adds another layer to the narrative. Here, it is that of a play a radical theatre group is rehearsing at their camp. Each dramatic segment of the story turns into separate scenes that are ‘rehearsed’ and later analysed and dissected by the actors and the crew. Yet another dimension is added to the action on stage when the police arrive at the camp and charge them for anti-national activities.
These theatrical flourishes that take off from the basic plot gives the performance a contemporary political relevance and aesthetic vigour. It turns into a play about the making of a play where the boundaries between stage and theatre, actors and audience overlap and merge. The scene-by-scene rehearsal provides an interesting structure to the play and also moments of detachment to ponder upon the play itself and prompt the viewers to think about the politics of its performance and narrative. Through this, the very process of the making of a theatre performance is revealed to the audience, who also become part of it.
Every activity — direction, sound, music, set design, make-up, lighting, dialogue delivery— is revealed, discussed and woven into the political fabric of the play. In the process, all characters get their due, a moment of limelight illuminating their personal dilemmas and struggles. For instance, you find the character playing Bhagwan, the ethical centre of the play, himself developing cold feet when it comes to two of his fellow artistes from different religions deciding to get married; you see the actor playing Amara hogging the limelight all alone in the theatre, fantasising about all the great characters that animated that stage; you have the puny stage manager suddenly breaking into tears reminiscing upon his lost dreams about making it as an actor.
Stressing as it were, the reality of the theme, the play ends with the police force sealing the theatre, announcing that the theatre troupe is missing and asking the audience to leave the place. While we leave, we are accosted by lookout posters of the actors, followed by the sight of the director lying on the roadside shot dead. It is a rare instance of the theme of the play following the audience out of the theatre and into the street; which is what theatre in our times is meant to be, raising disturbing questions about freedom of expression, the right to dissent and the death of reason. The vachanas of Basava that Bhagwan recites punctuate the play with its intense spiritual longing and heart-rending expressions to human unity and love.
Brilliant performances by Arun Nayar, Santhosh Venjaramoodu, Kannan Nair, Chinchu Bhavani, Viju Varma, and minimal but evocative lighting by Sujith Soorya that also draws its credibility from the play itself being a ‘rehearsal in progress’, a very sparse music score, all contribute to make the play a thrilling, engaging and, at the same time, thought-provoking experience.
The facility of a theatre space like Ganesham in Thiruvananthapuram city seems like a blessing in times like ours when the art of theatre is being resurrected and reinvented by young talents like Hazim Amaravila who lack accessible and facilitated spaces to make art and connect with people.
