Manav Kaul: More plays, mixed reactions (Part 2)

‘Ilhaam’ had not made much of an impression on me. As a result, I ended up giving the next play ‘Shakkar ke paanch daane’ a miss, an error I deeply regret now that I have read the play, but I’ll come to that later.

Right after we returned to Delhi from shooting the film that we are working on together, there was a festival of Manav’s plays at Mandi House. By this time I knew him reasonably well, or enough at least to know that he is very talented with a sharp, quick thinking, improvisational mind, and a spontaneous and infectious energy. And further, he is a team player who gives people their space. This I knew of the person, but towards his work I had had a mixed reaction, having seen only Hansa and Ilhaam.

I made it a point then, to see all three plays that were being staged, including Ilhaam, which was to be the first. Even after the second viewing, my opinion about the play stays largely unchanged. I still have the same problems with it. Perhaps I am unable to see things his way, perhaps he is content with his interpretation… in any case, in my opinion the play lacks insight, and is heavy with a bias and an interpretation that is almost Western in nature.

The second play ‘Park’ was something else altogether. It was hilariously funny, with an underlying theme so simple and so profound- it was superb. The design was simple- it’s centered around three people and three benches in a park and happens almost in real time. The beauty is in (the nature and content of) the interactions between the three people, borne out of their individual quirks. The idea of occupying and claiming space was lovely in itself, and it seemed a bit of a stretch to bring in the Israel- Palestinian conflict, Kashmir and the adivasi- Maoist struggle, especially since all of these are complex issues with fairly complicated histories. I found it surprising that Manav should slip up in this regard considering that he is half Kashmiri. I don’t know enough about Israel- Palestine, but to equate adivasis to Maoists would be offensive to anyone familiar with the region. Having said that, the references were clearly made in good faith, and the audience responded to it in the same spirit.

As the characters’ back stories are revealed, the play enters a different and unexpected zone- it becomes an insightful comment on some of the ills of our education system, and our way of bringing up children. Manav seems to be a keen observer- of people, and trends and events and such- as a good writer ought to be, and this shows in his detailing, especially of characters. There is an everyday simplicity and earthiness to his characters that is refreshing. (This response might seem peculiar, but bear in mind that it comes from someone who is mostly unfamiliar with Hindi writing as well as theatre, having read none of Hindi literature, and seen very little theatre.)

The three actors were fantastic. Some credit for this may be due to the director as well; who seems to know a thing or two about handling actors, and pays great attention to performances, a trait that was on display earlier on, on our shoot too.

The third and last play that I saw was called ‘Laal Pencil’. This was essentially a children’s play; here’s the official synopsis: a young school girl is relishing her new found stardom amongst peers and teachers ever since she suddenly, mysteriously starts writing beautiful poetry. What no one knows is that it is not her, but a magic red pencil that she found in class that's writing the poetry. The constant struggle between truth and falsehood, desires and righteousness, love and hate, and the pain of keeping a secret, lead upto the girl's final decision. Will she or won't she? Based on a Korean novel, 'laal pencil' is a poignant tale of a girl with a secret.

The plot of the play is simple enough, and does not stray far beyond what is stated in the synopsis. But it is highly stylised in its presentation, while also offering, in oblique ways, a critique of the way children are treated, both at home and in school. There were all kinds of tools employed- from costumes (the students wore only one shoe), to make up (the students were in mime style make up- with their faces painted white) to shadow play (Pinki’s parents fight behind a screen and her father, who has gone away, is never actually seen) to word play (the argument between Pinki’s parents is fantastic in it’s simplicity while getting the message across more effectively than would have been possible with normal dialogues) to more word play (the students almost never say anything intelligible- always repeating generic phrases, in a allusion to the rote learning that is prevalent in our schools) to symbolism (the pencil grows bigger as Pinki’s guilt increases, the students drag themselves across the stage to reach ‘the other shoe’) to multiple role play (at some points there are multiple actors playing the same character, Pinki) and so forth. There were several more, these are only the ones I remember offhand. Besides, I’m not a theatre person myself and my responses are such as can be expected of a lay audience.

This play certainly had a message, and even employed Mahatma Gandhi in order to get it across, or perhaps to legitimise it. This is just as well, for Truth in itself does not seem to command the respect and high regard that it should in society, and is usually propped up/ legitimised / appropriated by invoking religion and/ or the fires of hell or the next birth, as the case may be. To invoke the Mahatma then, is to clearly state your secular credentials.

I seem to vaguely remember Manav saying that ‘Laal Pencil’ is not a play for children. In a way I see his point- the message in the play is as relevant for and applicable to, an adult. Besides we as a society would do well to return to all those moral science lessons we read in school, for we don’t seem to be doing a very good job of applying any to our lives. Besides, there is much in the play that demonstrates both an understanding and a critique of our schools, teachers and parents, and to that extent I suppose it is certainly one that adults ought to see. But it is very clearly also a play that would appeal to older children, who might recognise some of their angst, depicted on stage.

Manav Kaul: First Impressions (Part 1)

A little over a month and- one film seen, one shot, three plays seen, one read, and several poems and blog posts read- it’s been a Manav Kaul overdose.

(Links: Manav's plays, poems and other writings.)

I had not heard of Manav when I went to see his film- as part of the Osian’s Film Festival in Delhi, and on a friend’s recommendation- it’s called Hansa and it’s one of the loveliest children’s films I have seen. It has a simple story, just like the people that it portrays- hill people, with their simple lives and simple joys and sorrows (and I don’t mean that in a condescending way, far from it!) It is full of heartwarming little details and characters that are quirky yet believable, with their own little idiosyncrasies. More than anything else, it’s a film that treats children as young adults, with respect for their intelligence and sensitivity, and without mollycoddling or shielding them from the realities of life. There is stuff in the film that parents may find hard to explain to their children, but it is in no way stuff that they should shy away from. It is also a film with some wonderful performances, especially by the younger actors. It is a little crude, rough- at- the- edges so to say in its craft, but I am more than willing to overlook that not just because it is Manav’s first film but also because there is so much in the film that is beautiful and does work!

(Unsurprisingly it won awards at Osian's. Read about it here.)

I returned to Bombay determined to see Manav’s plays, two of which were scheduled to be staged at Prithvi soon after my return. He is primarily a theatre person and I was excited about seeing his plays after seeing such a promising film debut. So I promptly went for ‘Ilhaam’, the first of the two plays, the first day that it was staged.

‘Ilhaam’ is a story about a family man who attains enlightenment and what happens thereafter- how he and his family cope with it. Here’s the official synopsis: ‘Bhagwan is the epitome of the mundane – a middle-aged banker, married, with two grown up college-going children. However, one day, while sitting on a decrepit park bench he stumbles upon ‘enlightenment’. Therein begins the battle between the world outside and his world inside’.

Let me state at the outset that I had a problem with ‘Ilhaam’ from the word go, with it’s very premise. The play basically seeks to engage with Bhagwan’s struggles post enlightenment, without actually concerning itself with what the process of reaching this enlightenment may have been. There are clues along the way that seem to suggest, as does the synopsis, that Bhagwan literally ‘stumbles upon’ enlightenment, an idea that is as fantastic as it seems preposterous, though in all fairness there are also clues that suggest Bhagwan always had a disposition that made him a suitable candidate, including a history of talking to birds, running away from home as a child and being untraceable for a year, and time spent in an asylum. And yet there is little to suggest that it was a conscious process, nor is the process or enlightenment itself accompanied by a better understanding of the world, a fact that seems blaringly contradictory to the idea of ‘enlightenment’, whatever it may be (since we can only conjecture.)

Manav seems to have limited his own canvas by resorting to clichés- in his journey towards enlightenment and thereafter, Bhagwan sits in a decrepit park bench for hours on end, watching children who don’t exist, at play. He talks to birds and can converse with a mute beggar. He dances without music (a graceless dance with staccato movements… because Nature is so graceless?!) All the while that he finds himself closer to Nature, he also finds himself further away from his family and friends, at one point reaching a stage where they become totally unintelligible to him. For some inexplicable reason, his ‘enlightenment’ is not accompanied by sensitivity towards his own family nor understanding for their concern. I find this conceptualisation puzzling- I can understand the difficulty in portraying a sense of detachment- and therein lies the challenge. But should this detachment have been devoid of love and compassion and a deeper understanding of the ways of the Universe? Did Bhagwan really need to be so perplexed by all that was going on around him? If the intention was to portray Bhagwan’s internal struggle, would that not have been better served had Bhagwan been a little more aware? He might still have found himself to be equally helpless, but would have been more believable as someone who did indeed attain some kind of enlightenment.

The play is peppered with philosophical questions, (and references many authors) which are not just perfectly legitimate, they are of a high intellectual caliber, something that one can expect of someone as well read as Manav. But then it seems to be precisely that- an intellectual response to a concept that can perhaps only be understood or believed in if one has faith. In my limited experience, I have come to recognise and accept the difference between intelligence and wisdom. Manav seems to be coming from a place of intelligence and attempting to tackle questions of wisdom...

Having said that, I did find his take very interesting. According to Manav, enlightenment is a reversible process, ‘curable’ by the force of will and medicine. Such is the fate of his Bhagwan, who goes through psychological treatment- willingly it would seem- for he makes a choice to return to family life over staying enlightened, which seem, according to him, to be mutually exclusive states of being. This is a choice he makes in a conversation with his ‘Chacha’ (who the Chacha turns out to be is a delightful surprise in an inspired piece of writing)- a conversation that is the high point of the play, and one which encapsulates its essence.