Crackling realism

That history belongs not to the leaders, but to the common people is the theme of "Shobha Yatra" which combines credibility with subtlety. The distinctive feature of the production is that it is the play which carries the show, writes GOWRI RAMNARAYAN.

SHAFAAT KHAN'S much talked about play "Shobha Yatra" is now enjoying successful runs not only in Marathi, but in Hindi and English, and is about to be staged in Gujarati and Bengali as well. The theme exhibits the concerns of the parallel theatre while its appeal has extended beyond its constraints.

Watching it in its original Marathi version in Mumbai, I realised why theatre critics insisted it was a "must see". Here is drama you can feel down to your fingertips. Language did not matter, even the flaws and limitations of the production were no barrier to the direct, intense, all-round experience of the theatre that it offered on its beginning-to-tire but still packed 136th show on that day.

The theme is straightforward enough, the devices are well known to world theatre. A group of people get together to put up a float parade to mark 50 years of Independence, with some key figures of the freedom struggle - Jhansi ki Rani, Tilak, Subhash Bose, Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi, as also Bapu Geno (a commoner remembered for being run over by a truck carrying videshi goods whose entry he tried to bar).

The play begins with these characters rehearsing their heroic lines in a downtown storehouse, applauded by the sponsor's assistant who walks up to them on the stage from the front row in the hall. Last minute make up is all that's left before the show starts. But from that moment, nothing goes right, their float is delayed, riots prevent starting on time, goondas threaten Bapat who plays Gandhi, the teacher who plays Jhansi ki Rani is unable to make her important call, the frauds of some participants are published in newspapers, fights break out among them, acrimonies build up. One of them even tries to blackmail the teacher, he is lawyer to her husband who is desperate for the divorce that she refuses to give him, but claims she is pregnant though separated for years from the man.

New tensions mount with the arrival of Barbie, the sexy gal with foreign camera and NRI accent . . . Gandhi, Nehru, Tilak and Bose are ready to follow her like dogs (and quarrel over the bone). Her photo sessions with them are splurged with rollicking ironies. Muscleman Babu (who plays Bapu Geno) unexpectedly gets to climb into the attic with her, only to be tossed off when she leaves, as ultimately she must.

Meanwhile the single upright soul among them, the school teacher, gets to learn that the sponsor of the float is none other than Ismailbhai, the local don. She wants to quit, but is urged to stay on because what's a float without a woman on it... (All the men are indebted to the don in some way or the other). When the float turns out to be too small to accommodate them all, she repeats her decision, but is threatened by the bhai's assistant. Gandhi wants to drop Bose, Nehru wants to oust Tilak, until they all agree that Geno is redundant... which leads to a violent scuffle....

Through it all the little, illiterate but street-smart chai boy runs in and out, comic and choric by turns. He cannot identify Bapat in Gandhi's guise for the vengeful goonda because he knows nothing of history. Gandhi and Tilak are like strangers to him.

But he is captivated by the Indian flag and dreams of flourishing it as the leader of the parade with the others in tow. Finally, with Babu and the teacher flanking him, he claims the flag as his own, and marches off with confident hope in the face of terror and violence. History belongs not to the leaders, but to the common people.

You can see how this situation is fraught with possibilities for the theatre which revels in contrasts between appearance and reality, the man and the role, the play within a play, deception within deception. There's plenty of scope for every kind of humour, and for that pathos which gives laughter its cutting edge. Even without the obvious and repeated silhouette of the man with the gun prowling outside the window, the dark godown becomes the urban hell of exploited and exploiting beasts, enslaved by their own greed and sensuality. Any faint light that breaks through comes from the chai boy and the unsullied teacher.

Sets, lighting and music (relying on patriotic Hindi film songs) are nothing to write about, the acting (despite making use of the whole body in angika abhinaya) doesn't rise above the competent, and the caricaturist. Director Ganesh Yadav has kept sentimentality at bay and never strains credibility. There is some subtle layering but never beyond easy grasp. Symbols like the charkha, Nehru's rose, sword, flag, and commonplace objects like lipstick and telephone, are put to sound use for underscoring situation and character, conflict and turmoil. Some of the famous photo images which are a part of our national history, are animated with hilarious effect.

No wonder the Dinanath Mangeshkar hall was full even for the matinee, with a homogeneous group of middle class theatre goers, who were one with the happenings on the stage from first bell to final curtain. "Shobha Yatra" satisfied all their needs for entertainment with a "socially relevant message" about the times, all the better for being sugarcoated with humour.

Any last word will have to note that this play harkens back to "Shantata! Court Chalu Ahe", with its dangerous game of role playing, and in the soliloquy it gives to the school teacher a la Ms. Benare. Not that it is blind mimicry. "Shobha Yatra" stands out as theatre all the way, in essence, action and form. You can see it is elastic enough to accommodate varying interpretations.

Also, it is not the production which carries the play, but the play which carries the show, a difference that is easier to perceive than to spell out in words. If it provides no new insight into the times, it is certainly authentic in reflecting the current reality, national and regional. Yes, the play is a "must see" for theatre buffs, because it avoids all cinematic frills and confidently depends on the possibilities the stage offers.

Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Section  : Features
Previous : When Kashmir was almost lost
Next     : Banking on poor women