Theatre luminary MK Raina, who documents his life in the memoir Before I Forget, says working extensively with youngsters in Kashmir has made him a better Kashmiri
Parbina Rashid
Driving on an empty road for miles together with no soul in sight can be unsettling; more so if the road happens to be in a buzzing city like Noida. Well, who would have thought that such an experience during the pandemic would unlock the memory bank of MK Raina, theatre luminary and film actor, and induce him to pick up the pen (yes, he prefers the traditional way). The result — a 409-page memoir, aptly titled Before I Forget.
“It was an 800-plus page book to begin with,” Raina lets us into his journey. “I wrote about all major incidents of my life — my struggles, my defeats, humiliations, triumphs and some life-threatening instances. I completed the first draft in six months.”
That’s quite an achievement considering how accurately he recounts his life, right from his childhood in Sheetal Nath Sathu Mohalla in Srinagar. Did he keep a diary? “No, most of the events are culled from the sub-conscious mind. I have a strong visual memory,” he beams.
Launched in Delhi recently, Raina is enjoying the fruit of his labour, as Before I Forget is garnering rave reviews. To prune an 800-page manuscript into half took some brainstorming and serious labour, but the journey was fun. So much so that mujhe chaska lag gaya likhne ka (I got addicted to writing), he reveals. This bit of information would sure come as a relief to his friends and well-wishers, who have been encouraging him to share his vast experiences as a theatre activist and actor in the form of a book. “I had dodged them till now, but in my head I always knew that it was a matter of time. I am a storyteller and have so many experiences to share,” he tells us.
Did the trigger point have anything to do with the film, The Kashmir Files, considering that he too has been a victim of terrorism in the Valley and his family was forced to relocate to Jammu when the mass exodus of Kashmir Pandits took place during the early ’90s? The reaction is a throaty laughter. “I fell asleep twice while watching that movie. Would you believe it? It bored me. There was no depth, no shades, only propaganda. And, it didn’t start any dialogue on this tragedy, it just pleased the right wing.”
As he talks about the right, we can’t help but ask — does it make him a leftist? “Not really, I have never been a member of any political party. My association with Safdar Hashmi may have given people the impression that I am a leftist, but no, I choose my own path,” he says.
Political leaning is one thing, but the pain of loss and longing has been a part of his being. Glimpses emerge as he writes, “For fear of being labelled as communal, I used to keep quiet and suffer our tragedy in silence.”
Elaborating how in Mumbai some old friends had once accused him of ‘behaving like a communal-mind person’, he says, “It hurt me deeply because all these years, all I had owned was my belief in a multi-cultural, multi-religious India for which I had joined all the movements and struggles that were in support of communal harmony. I have grown up in a syncretic culture. And as a theatre person, I can’t take sides, I can’t say that my tragedy is the only tragedy.”
Has writing it all down helped him heal? “Working in Kashmir has helped me. This book is just documenting my healing process. Meeting Kashmiri youngsters, folk artistes and people from all walks of life has enriched me. I think I am a better Kashmiri now.”
But what about Kashmir, is it any better that what it was once? Raina, who has been visiting his hometown not to reclaim his home but his legacy and heritage, says, “There are cosmetic changes, but the core remains more or less the same. It’s just that people don’t talk anymore. They simply have become indifferent.”
Seems it’s time for another Badshah Lear. The play, which he produced with the dwindling Bhand community of Kashmir, transcended the caste and class divide, and united his audience to feel the pathos of the Kashmir situation. Before we all forget!
Dignity of labour
MK Raina joined the National School of Drama in 1967, when the doyen of Indian theatre, E Alkazi, was at the helm of affairs. Raina recalls one of the first lessons he learnt from Alkazi was on the dignity of labour, as they built up the Meghdoot Theatre brick by brick. He writes, “Personalities like Shivam Karanth, K V Subbanna, Kovalam Narayan Panniker, Giriraj Kishore, MF Hussein, Bala Saraswati—the great gurus of the Indian performing streams — laid in us the foundations for understanding and decoding the multiple plural traditions that are India’s cultural treasures and infusing in students the desire to build modern Indian theatre in all its many regions.”
