"Ideology is one thing, theatre quite another"

IN 1994, at the Hirachand Hall, Bombay, in an award-giving ceremony, the recipients included such celebrated names as Mulk Raj Anand, Ramanand Sagar, Gopikrishan, Yash Chopra, Pallavi Joshi, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Prem Dhawan, Murad, Raza Murad, Simi Garewal. For those interested in quiz-games, the question could be who organised that ceremony? And for a clue, we could add that the organisers have been busy since 1972 bestowing such honours on great performers in the varied fields of art and culture-films, televsion, theatre, music, dance, literature, journalism, social service, even sports — and thus among the awardees figure not only film personalities like Rajinder Kumar, Amrish Puri, Manmohan Krishen, Chetan Anand, A K Hangal, Prem Chopra, but also Khushwant Singh, Vishnu Prabhakar, Shivani, Manu Bhandari, Prem Bhatia, Kuldip Nayyar, Arun Shourie. Need further clues? Well, associated with the memory of Balraj Sahni some of the awards are named after him. If you cannot guess even now, the reason is simple; it is one of those well-publicized, televised, glittering award-ceremonies that make the entire nation nervy on certain evenings, but a quiet, simple affair-just a gesture of gratitude to the achievers. If it sounds like an amateurish copy of the more familiar extravaganzas, it is as it should be, because, after all, it is a ceremony organised by amateurs by the All-India Artists’ Association led by Sudershan Gaur.

A most popular theatre artiste of the 50s and the 60s, known for his female roles, Gaur performs no more but continues to serve the stage in other ways. The mission of his life now is to promote theatre by bringing together artistes all over the country; for that purpose, he has been not only organising drama competitions since 1955 but also prompting others to start them in their respective places. In fact, the competitions at Allahabad, Cuttack, Pune, Patna, Gauhati, Jabalpur, Bhilai, Bareilly, Bhind, Ara etc. have been inspired by him. No wonder, this 75-year old man is a father figure among amateurs, and thus when he visits these places, there are invariably hundreds to receive him or to escort him in a procession.

Talking to Chaman Ahuja, Gaur shares his experiences in the amateur theatre.

When and how did your interest in the theatre start?

I don’t know for certain; theatre is connected with some of my earliest memories. I remember how, as a little child, I was mystified by a gramophone that our neighbour was the first to acquire in Ambala-and how I was shooed away when, out of curiosity to know the source of the sound, I tried to come closer to it. I can recall also how, during the screening of the silent movies, the musicians would sit on the stage and led sound effects or add songs are pre-fixed moments. Once, when still a small boy, I accompanied my father to Calcutta and saw a play in which there was a scene of beheading; as the head came tumbling down and the bleeding started, I was so horrified that I started crying. That is when I realised that some thing happens in theatre. I was thus mentally ready when, impressed by my good, innocent looks, the leader of a Ramlila Club asked me to play the role of Rama. I was so small while all others were grown up, but it did not seem to matter. In fact, being the only one knowing Hindi, I was asked to deliver the dialogues of all the characters in the situations narrated/prepared by our leader. The delicacies served to the performers after the shows were most welcome to the Gaur-Brahmin in me. What is more, people, even old ones, would come and touch my feet; that made me believe that I must be having something to deserve all this.

After you graduated from the Ramlila to the theatre, what kind of roles did you usually play?

Well, all kinds of roles. I was most popular for female acting — because of my looks, voice, complexion. I was so popular that the ways I dressed tended to start fashions among women folk. When Prithvi Raj saw me dressed as a heroine for the first time, he could not believe it.

Did you work with Prithvi Raj?

Not as a performer just helped him in looking after the gate, the stage, the auditorium. It was to Balraj Sahni that I came close. Creating an All-India Artistes’ Association was his idea. He would adjust his shooting dates to accommodate our competitions. Of course, I didn’t like his yoking theatre into the service of ideology. Ideology I told him, was one thing, and theatre quite another, in the identification of the two, theatre stood to suffer. Also, I didn’t like his moving to films and making theatre only a hobby. We argued, but he would not mind. In fact, he wanted me to join films. At one stage, Bimal Roy assigned to him the task of taking me to Bombay. But before he could do that, Bimal Da died.

Having worked in Shimla most of the time, what is your assessment of the theatre there?

At the moment, it is near-zero activity, Amla Rai who was doing good work has moved to Bombay. Theatre there has had a chequered graph. Originally, the British monopolised the theatre there and they entertained themselves with old comedies; when Shimla became the summer capital of India, the theatre-loving government employees from Bengal persuaded the government to let the Indians use the Gaity Theatre. Gradually things moved to a peak situation. Imagine the time when people active there included Rajinder Krishen, Amrish Puri, Madan Puri, Pran. I S Johar Raghav Gautam and Ramesh Mehta. That was the time of great theatre-full of music, songs, poetry, spectacle, high acting. When the central offices shifted to Delhi, these artistes left for movies. A spell of good theatre came again after the Partition when the Punjab government had its capital in Shimla. That was the era of O P Dogra, M L Kumar and Champa Mangat Rai. After the Punjab government moved out, there has been hardly anything-just our competitions or an occasional government-sponsored show, nothing local.

What kind of plays did your Evergreen Club present; and did you also direct plays?

Yes, I directed some plays, mostly Ramesh Mehta’s Uljhan, Zamana, Under-Secretary, Damaad. But when I started directing. I gave myself very small roles. Which, of course, did not matter because one may shine even in a minor role. In Uljhan, in a few minutes of appearance as a postman, I got three claps!

Why has amateur theatre, with which you have been associated, lost its pride of place?

The aristes are themselves to blame; they are not practical men with right business sense. Maniklal of Shahjahan Theatre Company drew full houses; his plays were great, had the right masala but whatever he earnedhe squandered on drinking and gambling the same evening — he never bothered about tomorrow. Kajjan Bai was another legend but her artistes would let her down. Once her Majnu refused to go up the stage without drinking a full bottle; when I offered to take his place, he relented immediately. There is also that tendency to exploit the innocent ones. Once we did Anarkali in aid of the victims of famine; a professor who was to direct us made me the "incharge"; as he spent recklessly, at the end we discovered that, instead of having funds for the famine-struck, it was we who needed help. And being the ‘incharge’, I had to surrender the gold chain which I had got in my marriage around that time.

How have you been managing the finances since you have been running these competitions for decades?

Simplicity and austerity are the key words in our management. To begin with I would squeeze my own pay-packet but that could not have lasted for long. Now we have an entry fee that goes in accommodation and hall-rentals; the teams meet their own expenses in respect of travel (on railway concession) and food. We don’t give prizes in cash-just symbolic trophies. There are losses but then there are people who volunteer to donate.

Why should people spend so much for your symbolic trophies?

The idea is to get together, to interact, to show their art. We give them national level stage. Through various competitions, they perform at so many places; they see others’ work and learn. Every year, I deliberately invite some weak teams; they come, see good theatre, and start performing better. Our certificate of good performance has a value. When we honour some one, it means a lot of publicity. When upcoming artistes get prizes alongwith a top artist, it boosts their morale. In the backward area of Champa, I saw a young man making excellent statues of Gandhiji; we honoured him and today his statues are reaching every part of India.

Who decides these awards — who are the judges at your competitions?

Interacting on an average with 600 artistes every year, we have a vast network; these people send their suggestions, which we verify and decide. Our panel of judges for competitions have had great names but our experience shows that the great ones don’t always take a comprehensive view of the situation. Thus, before the prizes are announced, we must be consulted. This way we get the chance to ensure the discouraging of indecency which often passes for great art. One thing more: we have found that even the greatest are not immune to pressures and self-interest. In any case, we don’t pay them anything. Once a famous character-actor from Bombay demanded air fare; I wrote back that he need not come. I reminded him of the days when, before joining the film industry, he used to be one of us. When asked to dance, he would ask his wife to fetch his pyjama and she would reply, "Which pyjama — the one that is torn from the front or the one torn from behind." Well, the man did come and on his own, beaming with a sheepish smile.

Why did your competitions organised in Chandigarh in the 80s fail to click?

I was not experienced enough then and let myself be misled by people Anyway, Chandigarh is not a place for competitions. In a festival, you invite the best plays; in competitions there are bound to be some not-so-good plays. The audience of Chandigarh can’t digest the poor ones; it is an audience of the festival. At Cuttack, the audiences are in lakhs but they accept all.

Any suggestions to improve the theatre situation today?

The government should declare theatre an industry and give the right incentives. Grants-in-aid don’t help; they politicise the situation. The government is spending money on the zonal centres which are not doing anything, except on paper. Theatre should learn to give not what it wants to give but what the audience wants. If we work on that principle, theatre will expand and become self-dependent. The Khoobsurat Bahu, staged by the NSD, could be a real hit, but, succumbing to the criticism of a few highbrow critics, it was shelved. What a pity!

Tours appears to be a totally amateurish vision; did you ever try anything off-beat, experimental?

In 1962, and then in ‘63, we experimented with performances of all-India casts. We would send different dialogues of a play to some talented artists who had earlier performed in our competitions, asking them to cram those lines. They would come a week in advance of the competition, and we had rehearsals. The results were excellent — simply wonderful!