Only three years ago, Marathi theatre appeared to be on the mat. Unable to successfully meet the joint onslaught of big-budget television and blockbuster cinema it seemed to have crumbled altogether.
But now, after a period of lying low, Marathi theatre, particularly in Bombay and Pune, has stirred to life once again. Sloughing off its languorous phase, it has suddenly acquired a new vibrancy. The revival is attested by the packed houses at auditoria which so far were usually associated with commercial theatre. New plays are being written. The lure of television has spawned a whole new generation of performers for stage. What's more, even weekday matinee shows are running to full houses.
And if there's a new bounce in the steps of Marathi theatre, the most sprightly of the new lot is director Waman Kendre. Born in Daradwadi, a small village in Maharashtra's dusty Beed district, Kendre went to the National School of Drama and then studied folk theatre in Kerala. He came to Bombay, worked with the Indian People's Theatre Association and then directed Zulwa (Devadasi's marriage ceremony with an idol of god), a powerful play based on Uttam Tupe's novel, about the despicable Devadasi system still practised in parts of Maharashtra and Karnataka.
Kendre hasn't looked back since then and walked away with all the three prizes for plays at the state awards last year - for Nati-goti (blood relations), Ek Zunj Varyashi (one battle with the wind), and Doosara Saamna (second confrontation). Of the 35 possible awards, Kendre's plays got 2 7. About Zulwa, Kendre says: "Dozens of people tell me they have seen it at least 10 times."
Indeed, people are beginning to troop back to the theatres. Says veteran playwright P.L. Deshpande: "The thread of love for theatre is woven into the very texture of Maharashtra." In a state with a strong tradition in theatre - where nationalistic leaders like Tilak were known patrons of theatre* and many social reformers used plays to float revolutionary ideas -Zulwa has signalled the return of earnestness in theatre.
If Kendre has been directing path-breaking plays, writing some of the better plays is Nagpur-based Mahesh Elkunchwar. His Wada Chirebandi (strong mansion indicating wealth of the person living in it) marvellously recreated the plight of an unmarried sister in a small town, with Vijaya Mehta playing a stellar role. His more recent play, Atmakatha (autobiography), has been equally successful, in which Shreeram Lagoo acts as an aging author. Last fortnight, Lagoo staged his new major production, Chanakya Vishnugupt.
Not that these are the only ones to have been bitten by the serious theatre bug. In a surprising about-turn, P.L. Deshpande, renowned for humour, has adapted Vladlen Dozortsev's The Last Appointment, an evocative critique of the heartlessness of a cynical politician. The play, Ek Zunj Varyashi - which has had 80 shows already- centres around an earnest Samaritan who has the gall to step into the august ministerial chamber and hold the politician accountable for driving a journalist to dipsomania. Other acclaimed productions include Shanta Gokhale's Avinash (indestructible) and Rajiv Naik's Sandha (joint), which effectively explores the form of theatre with an interactive sutradhar.
Clearly, the intrusion of television hasn't been altogether fatal to serious theatre. In fact, it could be even argued that tv wasn't an antagonist but it played a collaborative role particularly through programmes like Natyavalokan - a talk show where a new play is discussed with critics, the playwright, the director and a few actors.
Waman Kendre (righ) diretig the star cast for the powerful Zulwa: dissecting social practices
Meanwhile, Pune's Theatre Academy has not been resting on its laurels: its Ghasiram Kotwal, which has had a 17-year-old reign, created a record of sorts for non-subsidised amateur theatre last year by completing 500 shows. It also embarked on an ambitious three-year project to unearth new playwrights, funded by the Ford Foundation. As a result of the exercise some of the major playwrights discovered have been Ajit Dalvi, Prashant Dalvi, Arvind Vishwanath, Premanand Gajvi, Vinod Hadap and Shafat Khan. Says playwright Satish Alekar, the Academy's co-ordinator, whose latest play Atirekee(extremist) has gained a large following: "Our aim is to create an establishment so that we're free to pursue our creative endeavours."
And in order to further pump creative efforts, the Ford Foundation scheme has enabled the Academy to undertake the Playwright Development Scheme, award domestic travel fellowships, international travel grants, create a library, and acquire video equipment. The Playwright Development Scheme yielded impressive plays like
Shatakhand (the hundredth volume),
Karan (an Adivasi word),
Bhumiti cha Faarce (the farce of geometry), Vata Palvata (path escapism),
Post-mortem, Abhedya (indestructible),
Avashesh (remains) and
Char she koti Visarbhole (four hundred crore absent-minded).
Not that the other activities of the Academy took a back-seat. The Academy went beyond
Ghasiram Kotwal, to present plays like
Mahanirvan (the great salvation),
Abda Abda(nonsense Words),
Begum Barve, Shanivar Ravivar (Saturday, Sunday),
Padgham (drum) and now
Atirekee.
Critics, who had criticised the absurdist tradition of the 70s on the ground that it didn't relate to the Indian reality, have been vindicated by the revival of the new wave and its simple narrative styles. According to Kendre: "To make a play heavy and complex is simple, but to make a play simple and justify it is a very difficult job. Absurd plays have damaged experimental theatre."
However, one real problem faced by Marathi theatre is that it does not enjoy the access to publicity, sponsor-ship and advertising that English theatre does. Despite the present successes, revenue is low: the highest priced ticket in a Marathi play is still Rs 20, a fifth of an English play's ticket, so as to make it accessible to the average Wagle-like person.
Life for a Marathi actor is hard, and theatre remains a labour of love. After a hard day's slog, he has to muster the energy to go to an ill-lit suburban school hall, practise for a few hours, and then return home by midnight. Says Theatre Academy's Mohan Agashe: "There is urgent need to consider subsidy for theatre on the lines of British subsidies for serious work."
Despite the problems, Marathi theatre has come a long way from 1987--the year Arwind Deshpande, noted actor-director died and it seemed as if an essential part of Marathi theatre died. For Arwind Deshpande, with his wife Sulabha and their group, Awishkar, was the moving spirit behind the Chhabildas Revolution of the '70s, when new drama flourished and experimental plays were written at the Chhabildas School in rriid-town Bombay; plays like
Changuna (name of a person, based on LOrca's Yerma),
Antigone, Achyut Vaze's
Sofa-cum-Bed, Amol Palekar's
Chal Re Bhoplya Tunuk Tunuk (come Bhopaya, tunuk tunuk) and
Juloos (procession) were the rage. Desh-pande's death came at a time when theatre attendances were waning, despite occasional masterpieces such as Shreeram Lagoo's and
Uddhwastha Dharmashala {devastated inn) Mahesh Elkunch-war's
Raktabeej (the seed of blood). Says theatre critic Mukta Rajadh-yaksha: "The complete lull in the latter half of the '80s was real."
Also, in the early '80s theatre seemed to have been pushed along the edge by tv serials like Ek
Shunya Shunya (100-the dialing code to call the police). The
enfant terribles of the first wave of experimentation like the Palekars had moved on to television or cinema, or had given up theatre. Vijaya Mehta began making films after staging Elkunchwar's
Wada Chire-bandi, and even Vijay Tendulkar was writing film-scripts. Says P.L. Deshpande, director of the ncpa: "They were not drawn by tv, they were sucked."
But all that is a thing of the past now. Marathi theatre is back on the front burner. And with the Ford Foundation grants and ncpa's lead, the first steps towards professionalising and integrating theatre activities have already begun. Much more is needed; but so long as audiences continue to support serious efforts, the future of Marathi theatre will remain rosy.
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Narayan Shripad Rajahans alias ‘Balgandharva’
1889 --- 1967
Balgandharva inherited his inclination towards music from father, and dramatics from the maternal family.
In 1908, Balgandharva joined Kirloskar Natak Mandli. He acted in ‘Soubhadra’, Tatyasaheb Kolhatkar’s ‘Veer Tanay’, ‘Mook Nayak’, ‘Mativikar’ and ‘Prem Shodhan’.
Solely for the sake of Balgandharva’s sweet, melodious voice Tatyasaheb was tempted to write a musical play.
Kirloskar Natak Mandli produced ‘Manapaman’, a musical play written by Kolhatkar with great pomp and show on 12/3/1911. The musical compositions in this play broke away from the tradition and relying more on classical base of ‘Khyal’; became greatly popular.
In 1913, Balgandharva, Bodas and Tembe broke away from Kirloskar Natak Mandli and set up a new company-Gandharva Natak Mandli on 5/7/1913. Within two months only, on 3/2/1913 ‘Mook Nayak’ was produced. On 10/12/1916 Khadilkar’s musical play ‘Swayamwar’ was enacted on the stage.
The play earned great fame and popularity for Balgandharva. Ram Gadkari’s ‘Ekach Pyala’ also proved to be a great ‘hit’. Gandharva Natak Mandli was burdened by a huge heap of loan because of a disastrous failure of the play named ‘Droupadi’.
By 1926, Balgandharva repaid the entire loan with great efforts. Around 1933, the talking film had made an entry and the fate of the Marathi theater was in doldrums. Balgandharva closed down his drama company on 1/1/1935 and joined films.
But could not put his heart into films. Along with Goharbai, he reappeared on the stage and delighted audiences, filling the vacuum created by Bhaurao Kolhatkar’s absence.
Melodious singing, very good knowledge of rhythm made Balgandarva becomes a legend on the Marathi stage, which had no parallel.
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