Sunday, February 4, 2001		Article

STARTING with back-stage work as an errand boy, Balwant Thakur inched his way up as prompter, substitute actor, script-writer, assistant director, until he found himself winning top prizes in the inter-university competitions. As the exposure to national theatre inspired him to create a a new style of his own, he established in Jammu a group called Natrang and decided to make theatre his full-time profession. This, despite the fact that he had had no professional training in theatre and had, instead, a degree in Laws and a Master’s in Mass Communication. The uniqueness of his style got him invitations to dozens of national festivals and within a few years he was a theatre celebrity. Now Secretary, J & K Akademi of Art, Culture and Languages, he has been honoured this year with the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award for direction. Chaman Ahuja reproduces here some excerpts from an interview as cover the aesthetics of Balwant’s theatre.

A beneficiary of the SNA Scheme for Young Directors and the projects of the Ford Foundation as well as the Culture Department, you were part of the Theatre Movement that sought to go back to the roots. What is your assessment: has the Movement really helped Indian theatre evolve a new identity of this own?

It was a great idea because, for the survival and growth of a culture, it is absolutely necessary to ensure the health of its roots. But, unfortunately, the Movement fell into the hands of some non-genuine persons who exploited it for self-promotion. Anyway, the straitjacket of folk format proved too restrictive. Using of forms mindlessly in half-baked productions trivialised the whole exercise and thus a great opportunity was lot.

Our classical theatre has several peculiar features — imaginative appeal, actor’s dominating role, superior training methodology, unique aesthetic theory. So far as I am concerned, I don’t claim to have based my work on any specific theory, fresh or old; rather mine has been a search of a new theatre language. In that search, I have sought inspiration from Natyashastra’s concept of theatre as Drish-Kavya-that it, visual poetry; also I follow Bharata in the practice of transforming dramatic text into performative text. In practical terms it means group compositions and creative use of the human body. Dispensing with scenic elements, I translate the text into body language to create visual images in respect of set, action, even emotions. In Bada Jeeto, for example, my performers created through body movements and sounds, practically every thing — trees, the entire jungle, chirping birds, all kinds of animals, water, winds; the rows of fluttering fingers created the fields of the golden crop of wheat swaying with the breeze — and later all that being burnt in a blazing fire. Likewise, in Mahabhoj, they created walls, doors, offices, police station, court-rooms, TV news clips, huts being burnt, people being roasted, flames turning into embers gradually — all through their bodies. With nothing of any machine on the stage, the audience felt the presence of a printing press — all its movements and sounds.

I don’t strive at any particular kind of impact; it all depends on the theme in hand. Of course, people tell me that mine is a disturbing kind of theatre — jhunjhala-dene wala theatre. I don’t know under what rasa falls such a theatre. I would prefer the label of ‘theatre for mass-motivation’. Yes, in certain ways, it resembles street theatre, too, but I take care not to reduce it to propagandist slogan-mongering. My best known children’s play, Mere Hisse Ki Dhoop, for example, depicts the world as seen through a child’s eye — quite full of funny as well as painful situations; but towards the close, children ask the audience uncomfortable questions: why have you brought us into this world that is already too overcrowded to have room for us? That finale compels everyone to ponder over the horrifying consequences of overpopulation.

I am a great admirer of Badal Da; at some stage I did his Bhoma , too. He was my starting point, but my performers’ use of human bodies is more extensive: They create a parallel text. I might have imbibed influences unconsciously but, on conscious level, I try not to emulate any one — that is part of my process. Each time I feel like doing a play, I start by imagining how the others would do it, after that, I ask myself if it could be done differently. In creating my own format, I break the others’ formats but not just for the sake of breaking — if I can find something with more impact dramatically and more theatrical visually. For this, I depend primarily on my own intuitions rather than or any theories or hypotheses. In fact, my not having had any formal training in theatre is proving a blessing in disguise: being untied to any school or method leaves me totally free to evolve my own style along totally fresh ways. Yes, I have been learning my lessons the hard way, through trial and error. And my most useful discovery pertains to the fact that theatre is essentially an art-in-the-making. Indeed, the people might appreciate well-designed, prefabricated structures as realistic sets, but they

prefer the electrifying thrill of those structures being created instantly in their very presence through such unexpected means as human bodies. That, in a way, tickles their imagination. Having learnt that lesson, I treat every unit of dramatic action as a cinematic frame and enrich it through sounds and visuals.

Not really. In moves, in those lavishly choreographed song-sequences, in the midst of dozens of dancers, the protagonist shines more brightly; the same here. Anyway, there are other aesthetic reasons for keeping the whole group on the state. Every entry or exit disturbs not only the physical equation of the actors but also the chemistry of the performance. When a performer enters the state from the wings, he takes time to acquire the same wavelength in the flow of dramatic action as obtains among those already present there. In my performances, the performers are not specific characters always; they stand there speaking chorally, observing action, forming a set, or affording properties. In this situation, when one of them is suddenly called upon to play a character, he assumes life as an individual — a transformation that is electrifying with a level of intensity difficult to be equalled by one entering from a wing. And, mind you, this assuming of roles is not infrequent: in Mahabhoj, of the 20 performers on the stage, only three were ‘actors’ as specific characters; together they played about 100 roles — and only 10 were wielding sticks. Imagine, now, only one of them saying, "When I walk, it creates earthquake," and the remaining 19 getting busy to create those tremor effects through their physical and vocal resources collectively.

Well, my rivals did try to wean away my performers on that plea but the actual practice proved the fears totally unfounded. While a traditional ‘actor’ has the advantage of make-up, costume, lighting etc. in establishing a character, my performer has no such tools to help him, and since he has to establish his character suddenly, and in just a few seconds at his disposal, he has to put in extra effort to realise it all through his body, voice, movements, gestures, etc. He has to invent, improvise, his own tools, and that challenge lends his creativity a measure of strength. It is like a child being thrown into water to learn swimming; the traditional actor is more like a swimmer with a life-belt. One more advantage: I don’t start with pre-determined postulates and thus the performers get involved in the process of creating all the characters, big and small. As every one thus comes to know every line of the play, any one may be asked a play any role. Since I keep rotating the character-roles, every one gets the chance. Hence, there is no scope for an ego problem. What’s more, in a traditional production, the absence of one performer may mean no-show or flop-show, but not so in ours.

Mine was only a beginning; I could not pursue it to perfection because, with my shift to the Akademi, my energies got divided and thus my experimental work suffered. Of course, I am still continuing the work to the extent I can. The nights are mine and concept of theatre is evolving gradually, only I am not getting time to try those ideas. The real problem lies in the fact that my kind of theatre needs a different mindset. Outsiders don’t have that; even my own performers have to be evolved stage by stage, corresponding to my changing concept. For that I need time. I do mean to come back to that work in a big way on day; until then, we have to wait. Hopefully that would be sooner than later.