A GUIDE TO MARATHI THEATRE

You are a non-Maharashtrian whose admiration for the prolific theatre traditions of Marathi drama is shadowed by regrets. You have watched several Marathi plays and read their translations, but you do not know the history of Marathi theatre. How then can you grasp the sociological ambience, the creative impulses and audience tastes which shaped its growth? Learn about its musical extravanganzas starring legends like Bal Gandharva? How can you place a Vasant Kanetkar or a Satish Alekar in perspective? Identif the presentday lot of an Atul Pethe or Makarand Sathe?

Well Shanta Gokhale's comprehensive volume comes to you as a godsend, even if an expensive one. This is not just another book, but an achievement of its kind. First, it does bring together a treasury of materials, hitherto inaccessible to those, who do not know Marathi. Enriched by carefully sifted details which flesh out the subject, highlight a point here, circle an eccentricity there, drawing you into the picture with practised ease. Infusing narrativity into this kind of stuff is no easy task. Gokhale maintains continuity as well, to ensure you do not stumble, or skip any step along the way.

The research and erudition are unobtrusive,, untainted by condescension. Skill and empathy unite to ensure that the tone is always conversational, but never reduced to chatter.

What makes the book stand out is the author's love of the world that she paints, her identification with its habitués.

This does not bring fuzziness, it sharpens eye and tongue! Ironies of many kinds make you chuckle with her at unexpected moments.

"Playwright at the Centre" has five sections. The introduction starts with "Sita Swayamvar", the first "modern" Marathi play (a series of songs interspersed with improvised dialogues and fight sequences) in 1843. Vishnudas Bhave had put it together at the behest of princely patron Chintamanrao Patwardhan of Sangli, but was also to start the first professional touring theatre with an all Brahmin cast.

Though the peace established during the British rule was conducive to the initial cultural pursuits on the stage, the socio-political upheavals and exposure to Western drama which followed were to inspire the growth of both the seductive Sangeet natak and "prose" streams of Marathi theatre. It had no competition from Tamasha or Parsi theatre. The former was too lascivious for family viewing, the latter had few cultural bonds with its audience. But the homogeneous middle class Marathi theatregoers were "bound by shared questions, traditions and aspirations". Their drama was part of the sweeping social changes. "Its beginnings lay in distancing itself from pure entertainment…It grew into an ally of the national movement".

After an initial string of awards and successes Karuna Shaha sinks into middle class lifem feeling increasingly isolated and professionally marginalized as a woman artist. In writing about her crisis, Tapati Guha Thakurta accepts the same parameters that Karuna Shaha worked in - the narrow Calcutta art milieu and the painters own fascination with academic painting. Throughout her life, the artist never seems to question her training in Western academicism or reveal any interest in any contemporary debates or art movements.

With translated passages taking us into the inner circle (a major strength of the book), Gokhale brings the stalwarts before us - Kirloskar (Shakuntal/Saubhadre), Deval (Sharada), Kolhatkar (Veeratanaya), Khadilkar (Manapaman). The last becomes the focal point as a low water mark- with its bombast and rhetoric, a perfect example of how drama could be killed by music, showing why "modern drama wanted, first and foremost, to rid itself of ********on Sindbad's back".

We learn about the tragic-comic "Ekach Pyala", the first experimental play in the language, of Mama Warerkar's commitment to progressive ideologies, of Keshav Atre's conviction that emotion grabbed attention while thought alienated it, and how Rangnekar disturbed the viewers but only "just enough to give their three hours at the theatre an edge of excitement". Not in pages of dry facts. The writing breathes feeling for the finer aspects of the work recalled.

Part One brings us into familiar territory with names we recognise and works we know. Starting with Vijay Tendulkar's early work "Shrimant", which completely broke free from the shackles of deadwood, Gokhale analyses the changes in forms, goals and directions taken by Marathi theatre through Vasant Kanetkar, Ratnakar Matkari, P.L and G.P. Deshpande, Mahesh Elkunchwar, Satish Alekar et al. Here she directly and indirectly, arrives at answers to some of the questions (listed in the preface) which instigated her probe - about the lack of political theatre and absence of visual elements in Marathi theatre, and the strength of its continuing play-wrighting tradition, its veneration for the written word.

The analyses of Khanolkar and Shirwadkar fascinate you as the craft, the fine-turned phrases, the ruthless scrutiny, combine to balance understanding with objectivity.

Part Two, with its two appendices, is the most useful section of the book, introducing younger playwrights/directors Shyam Manohar, Shafaat Khan, Rajeev Naik, Prashant Dalvi, Waman Kendre, Chandrakant Kulkarni with a surprising intimacy. A brief prologue is followed by their urgent, passionate voices detailing their own experiences, efforts and dreams in the first person. (In this male world, the lone feminine presence is registered by Sushma Deshpande).

Translated excerpts from their plays, a rare bonus, indicate continuity with the past in both reformist zeal and the penchant for realism. Nits to pick? A few typos, Leelambari and Anandibhairav (presumably) for Carnatic ragas Neelambari and Anandibhairavi, and the author's statement that the Child Marriage Restraint Act (1929) is called the Sarada (sic) Act after the reformist play of that name (1939), whereas, it refers to Harbilas Sarda who was instrumental in launching it.

As Vikram Seth says of his Suitable Boy, this heavy Seagull tome may "Strain your purse and sprain your wrists". But perhaps not other recommendation to subject yourself to the twin dangers is necessary than to say, yes, I was that the book came to an end on page 580...

-Gowri Ramnarayan
Sunday, 2 July 2000