A guide to Marathi theatre

YOU are a non-Maharashtrian whose admiration for the prolific theatre traditions of Marathi drama is shadowed by regrets. You have watched several Marathi plays and read their translations, but you do not know the history of Marathi theatre. How then can you grasp the sociological ambience, the creative impulses and audience tastes which shaped its growth? Learn about its musical extravaganzas starring legends like Bal Gandharva? How can you place a Vasant Kanetkar or a Satish Alekar in perspective? Identify the presentday lot of an Atul Pethe or Makarand Sathe?

Well, Shanta Gokhale's comprehensive volume comes to you as a godsend, even if an expensive one. This is not just another book, but an achievement of its kind.

First, it does bring together a treasury of materials, hitherto inaccessible to those who do not know Marathi. Enriched by carefully sifted details which flesh out the subject, highlight a point here, circle an eccentricity there, drawing you into the picture with practised ease. Infusing narrativity into this kind of stuff is no easy task. Gokhale maintains continuity as well, to ensure you do not stumble, or skip any step along the way.

The research and erudition are unobtrusive, untainted by condescension. Skill and empathy unite to ensure that the tone is always conversational, but never reduced to chatter.

What makes the book stand out is the author's love of the world that she paints, her identification with its habitues.

This does not bring fuzziness, it sharpens eye and tongue! Ironies of many kinds make you chuckle with her at unexpected moments.

"Playwright at the Centre" has five sections. The introduction starts with "Sita Swayamvar", the first "modern" Marathi play (a series of songs interspersed with improvised dialogues and fight sequences) in 1843. Vishnudas Bhave had put it together at the behest of princely patron Chintamanrao Patwardhan of Sangli, but was also to start the first professional touring theatre with an all brahmin cast.

Though the peace established during the British rule was conducive to the initial cultural pursuits on the stage, the socio-political upheavals and exposure to Western drama which followed were to inspire the growth of both the seductive Sangeet natak and "prose" streams of Marathi theatre. It had no competition from Tamasha or Parsi theatre. The former was too lascivious for family viewing, the latter had few cultural bonds with its audience. But the homogeneous middle class Marathi theatregoers were "bound by shared questions, traditions and aspirations". Their drama was part of the sweeping social changes. "Its beginnings lay in distancing itself from pure entertainment ... It grew into an ally of the national movement".

With translated passages taking us into the inner circle (a major strength of the book), Gokhale brings the stalwarts before us - Kirloskar (Shakuntal/Saubhadra), Deval (Sharada), Kolhatkar (Veeratanaya), Khadilkar (Manapaman). The last becomes the focal point as a low water mark - with its bombast and rhetoric, a perfect example of how drama could be killed by music, showing why "modern drama wanted, first and foremost, to rid itself of music, the old man on Sinbad's back".

We learn about the tragi-comic "Ekach Pyala", the first experimental play in the language, of Mama Warerkar's commitment to progressive ideologies, of Keshav Atre's conviction that emotion grabbed attention while thought alienated it, and how Rangnekar disturbed the viewers but only "just enough to give their three hours at the theatre an edge of excitement". Not in pages of dry facts. The writing breathes feeling for the finer aspects of the work recalled.

Part One brings us into familiar territory with names we recognise and works we know. Starting with Vijay Tendulkar's early work "Shrimant", which completely broke free from the shackles of deadwood, Gokhale analyses the changes in forms, goals and directions taken by Marathi theatre through Vasant Kanetkar, Ratnakar Matkari, P.L and G.P. Deshpande, Mahesh Elkunchwar, Satish Alekar et al. Here she, directly and indirectly, arrives at answers to some of the questions (listed in the preface) which instigated her probe - about the lack of political theatre and absence of visual elements in Marathi theatre, and the strength of its continuing playwrighting tradition, its veneration for the written word.

The analyses of Khanolkar and Shirwadkar fascinate you as the craft, the fine-turned phrases, the ruthless scrutiny, combine to balance understanding with objectivity.

Part Two, with its two appendices, is the most useful section of the book, introducing younger playwrights/directors Shyam Manohar, Shafaat Khan, Rajeev Naik, Prashant Dalvi, Waman Kendre, Chandrakant Kulkarni with a surprising intimacy. A brief prologue is followed by their urgent, passionate voices detailing their own experiences, efforts and dreams in the first person. (In this male world, the lone feminine presence is registered by Sushma Deshpande).

Translated excerpts from their plays, a rare bonus, indicate continuity with the past in both reformist zeal and the penchant for realism.

Nits to pick? A few typos, Leelambari and Anandibhairav (presumably) for Carnatic ragas Neelambari and Anandabhairavi, and the author's statement that the Child Marriage Restraint Act (1929) is called the Sarada (sic) Act after the reformist play of that name (1939), whereas, it refers to Harbilas Sarda who was instrumental in launching it.

As Vikram Seth says of his Suitable Boy, this heavy Seagull tome may "Strain your purse and sprain your wrists". But perhaps no other recommendation to subject yourself to the twin dangers is necessary than to say, yes, I was sorry that the book came to an end on page 580 ...

* * *

Extracts

IF Bal Gandharva was the jewel in the crown of Marathi theatre, then his setting had to be designed to offset every facet of his personality and performance: his movements, his expressions, his music and his clothes. There was satin, velvet and gold aplenty in the furnishings. Arches were constructed to frame him, steps for him to climb down in the full majesty of his trailing sari. Richly covered seats and bolsters, period furniture and carpets embroidered in real gold thread abounded. The colours were striking and the textures smooth and heavy. As a last touch of opulence, the air was scented with sprayed perfume. To see Bal Gandharva in such a setting, bathed in the mild, but abundant, moonlight glow of "day light" electric lights, made the audience wonder whether they were not actually witnessing a scene set in the abode of the gods. It is said that the Gandharva Natak Mandali spent a sum of Rs. 75,000 on the stage set for Khadilkar's Draupadi (1920).

Warerkar And Political Awareness, p. 67.

* * *

VIJAY TENDULKAR is not a communicative man when it comes to his playwriting. Even otherwise, those who know him say that his favourite gambit upon meeting an acquaintance with whom conversation must be made, is "So, what's going on?" Thereafter the acquaintance talks and Tendulkar listens. He has not written extended prefaces to his published plays, as some other playwrights have done, nor has he made theoretical pronouncements about either Marathi theatre or theatre in general.

In his two-part Sri Ram Memorial Lecture entitled "The Play Is the Thing," he speaks about his work only in terms of the craft of writing realistic plays. Defining himself as an "actor- writer", one who is acting out on the stage of his mind what he is writing, he lays great stress on characterisation:

I had to wait for days trying to conceive a set of characters for a play ... I was never able to begin writing my play only with an idea or theme in mind. I had to have my characters first with me - living persons who would lead me into the thick of their lives where they would give me the theme.

No wonder, then, that Tendulkar is more keen on listening to people talk about themselves than talking himself.

The Beginnings Of Experiment, pp. 113 -114

* * *

WHEN I started Prayog Parivar, it was with a moral purpose. It was not simply a matter of producing plays. It was a group activity which was expected to affect the very lives of our members. And so the group would meet every evening and go through a regimen of physical and voice exercises. We would read old plays aloud and listen to a lot of music. What we wanted most to guard against was complacency. It was important to constantly disturb ourselves, concern ourselves, provoke ourselves. The group would stay together because it was a vital part of every member's life. We had no office-bearers, no formal structure, no bank balance.

That is how the group is, even today. When we decide to do a play, we raise whatever money we need for it. We make up the shortfall with contributions from our own pockets. We have made money for the group by putting in the kitty members' earnings from work they have done in a Shyam Benegal TV serial and a feature film by Arun Khopkar.

"Atul Pethe", Contemporary Directors, p.448

Atul Pethe's interview

GOWRI RAMNARAYAN

Playwright At The Centre: Marathi Drama From 1843 To The Present, Shanta Gokhale, Seagull, Rs. 795.

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