From a cursory observation of the crowds at the ongoing 18th Bharat Rang Mahotsav in New Delhi, it would seem that — contrary to fears in a city where Hindi theatre predominates — troupes from various states are getting a medium to good audience for their plays, even in languages other than Hindi. Among these was Nishumbita Ballet & Theatre Group from Hyderabad. Under the direction of Rammohan Holagundi, the 25-member Nishumbita contingent presented Girish Karnad's “Agni Varsham” in Telugu at LTG auditorium this past Tuesday.
“Agni Varsham” (which has been translated into Hindi as “Agni aur Barkha”), like a number of Karnad's plays, takes for its kernel a myth, this time of Yavakri, Paravasu and Aravasu from the Mahabharata, imbuing the characters with a contemporary human touch. The story highlights the intense rivalry and ego clash of ‘high’ Brahmins who acquire great powers through their single-minded penance but are unable to transcend their human failings of jealousy, lust, cunning and rage. Caught in their unholy net are Vishakha, abandoned wife of Paravasu, as well as Aravasu, his pure-hearted brother, and Nettili, the tragedy-dogged tribal girl loved by Aravasu. If Yavakri, Paravasu and the elderly Raibhya represent the worst of Brahminical dominance over those they consider below them, including women, the tribal community of Nettili is not spared either, as its men too show, in their treatment of her, that women are but objects of pleasure and symbols of their manly pride.
At the end of the play, one wonders whether human beings are capable only of building such ugly, unjust societies. The symbol of pure love and sacrifice, Aravasu, seems to get a raw deal. If theatre holds up a mirror to our world, this mirror is a most unflattering one.
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The director, who completed his doctorate from the Theatre Arts Department of Hyderabad's Osmania University, explains the trajectory of the characters as illustrative of what hubris can reduce one to. When they declare “Aham Brahmaasmi” (the Sanskrit sutra that can be roughly translated as “I am in essence the Supreme Self”), they are using the power they have invoked through this knowledge to satiate only their base tendencies of violence and revenge. They have not gained real wisdom, merely an inflated ego through the development of certain powers.
Rammohan feels theatre should leave the audience with an alternative viewpoint. “A person going through turmoil in life won’t want to see the same turmoil on stage. You try to give him another dimension, something he may not have seen or visualised.”
Theatre is not about transmuting everything seen in life onto the stage without filtering, he says, mentioning how sometimes people display crassness or vulgarity. “That is not theatre,” he says. “It’s where you make the audience realise, this also is there, this also can be.”
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It is important he says, to leave the audience with hope, “a positive rather than a negative note.”
Perhaps that is why his Vishakha is seen in a stylised movement sequence representative of catharsis, of the release she feels when finally free of all the men in her life, no matter how tragically.
Meanwhile, another theme of the play is the role of the arts as therapeutic and the innate honesty of the artist. Rammohan is a strong believer in the power of the arts to bring change in personalities and consequently societies. Involved in street theatre and proscenium theatre since his early teens, he has taken part in innumerable campaigns to raise public awareness. One that Nishumbita is currently involved in is called “Rahgiri”, an initiative to teach motorists etiquette regarding pedestrians. “Weekly once, in one area, we block all the roads and make it free for pedestrians,” he says. In a busy metropolis this has been no easy feat and the group addressed the concerned minister before the municipal officials would listen to them, he relates, but it continues to work.
In all, Nishumbita, which began in 1995, counts some 80 members, a healthy number he acknowledges with gratitude. Whether the 80 include his little son, who appears in small roles in productions, one hasn’t asked him, but with his wife Sowmya Ram also actively involved, and having founded Nishumbita with his late brother, Krishna Madhav, it is clear that for Rammohan, theatre is his life. “Every month we have a production, either a street play or some other, unless we go out of town, in which case it could take two months,” Rammohan maintains that
it is eminently possible to make a living in theatre. Some of his group members have left their jobs and come into the field full-time, and he names another who was working in films but is now devoted entirely to the stage. “I'm purely into theatre, not even films,” he clarifies, adding, “We do train people and send them to film and television.”
No fees are charged for training. Because, as he says, “I want to share whatever I have learnt. I tell them all I want is their commitment and their discipline.”