The Special Mention List: Part II

Written by Vikram Phukan, a theatre practitioner, stage commentator, and artistic director of Theatre Jil Jil Ramāmani. With several plays to his credit as director and playwright, he has been faculty at the Drama School Mumbai and has written extensively on theatre. His articles, analysis and reviews of theatre in India have appeared in the Hindu, Mint Lounge, Forbes India and many other platforms.

This is the second part of the Special Mention List (the first part can be read here) compiled by our resident theatre analyst Vikram Phukan to acknowledge performances from plays that displayed the gumption to spearhead the return to theatres in an uncertain year.

A disclaimer: This is not a definitive list. There is an inadvertent Mumbai skew, and takes into consideration only fairly recent productions.

And now that all this is out of the way, let’s dive in!

Santhosh Dindaguru, Daklakatha Devikavya

Language: Kannada | Director: Lakshman K P

Santhosh Dindaguru (middle) with Narasimharaju BK and Bharath Dingri in Daklakatha Devikavya (Photo Credit: Jangama Collective)

In Lakshman K P’s Daklakatha Devikavya, based on the poems of K B Siddaiah, an exemplary Santhosh Dindaguru is the intrepid performer whose ability to summon forgotten narratives with the gusto of a shaman proves to be powerful and transformative. With humour and pathos alike, Dindaguru traipses in and out of a ritualistic stupor like it were second nature, and in this altered state of consciousness, he becomes a vessel for the voices and experiences of his community, channelling their suppressed histories and unspoken truths. In the process, he conjures up a veritable epic seemingly out of wisps of just ash and sand, using body and voice to mount a performance with the potential to be a medium for catharsis, empowerment, and the reclamation of Dalit identity.

Pallavi Jadhao, Hayavadana

Language: Hindi | Director: Neelam Mansingh Chowdhry

Pallavi Jadhao in Hayavadana (Photo Credit: Aadyam)

Without any author-backed parts at her disposal, the elemental Pallavi Jadhao still furnishes Neelam Mansingh Chowdhry’s revival of Girish Karnad’s Hayavadana, its intertwined qualities of adventure and trepidation. As the prepossessing (and acrobatic) Goddess Kali who sets into motion the play’s central dilemma by beheading its leading men, Jadhao spews fire and ferocity without a trace of caricature. Elsewhere she takes over celebrations at a wedding, singing and dancing with sheer abandon and freedom of spirit, and finally, as part of a helium-voiced quartet of bewitched dolls locked up like contortionists in a trunk of outsize proportions, she taps into a particular vein of levity and wit without compromising on the diverting set-piece’s dark undercurrents.

Jai Prakash Kumar, Sattu Sherawali Da

Language: Hindi | Director: Anoop Gupta

Jai Prakash Kumar in Sattu Sherawali Da (Photo Credit: Anuj Chopra for Karkhana (Delhi))

The incarcerated man is far from romanticised in Anoop Gupta’s Sattu Sherawali Da, featuring emergent actor Jai Prakash Kumar as convict Satyapal Singh. Initially, the prison is a gilded cage of his own banal circumstances, but the actor subtly orchestrates the gradual expansion of the play’s implications, till it becomes a microcosm of societal constructs in a way that forces the audience to contemplate their own sense of entrapment. In what is his first solo performance, the agreeable Kumar gives a fair account of himself as a performer with composure and rigour, but he also guides his character's existential angst and vulnerabilities towards a clear place in a zeitgeist that has abandoned him. The play sidesteps questions of morality and guilt, which allows Kumar to become a potent metaphor for the times.

Barnali Medhi, Burn Out

Language: Assamese | Director: Barnali Medhi

Barnali Medhi in Burnout (Photo Credit: META)

Even if faced with insurmountable odds, Barnali Medhi’s Menoka is far from a woman resigned to her lot in Medhi’s own taut and economical mounting of Bhabendra Nath Saikia’s classic Assamese novel, Antarip, in which a woman of the hearth is faced with the life-altering prospect of her husband taking a second wife. Medhi equips her character with all but hidden resolve and a pronounced calm, and uses subtle nuances and everyday behaviours to shore up a poignant character study. The actor captures the essence of a woman on the cusp of self-empowerment, while revealing a surprising capacity for effecting a comeuppance. Her performance embodies the stoic dignity of an ordinary woman, complemented by the volatility exhibited by the production design, which utilises bales of straw for sets, props, and characters.

Shakuntalabai Nagarkar, Lavani ke Rang

Language: Marathi and Hindi | Director: Bhushan Korgaonkar

Shakuntala Nagarkar in Lavani ke Rang (Photo Credit: B-Spot Productions)

In Bhushan Korgaonkar’s twin pieces Lavani ke Rang and Love and Lavani, the redoubtable lavani exponent Shakuntalabai Nagarkar remains the mainstay, with her beguiling mix of impossible allure and playful mischievousness. Where one might expect a miscellany of lavani numbers performed with perfunctory oomph, one leaves with a masterclass in comedic acting, as Nagarkar lampoons Brahmin priests and boorish customers alike, or portrays the exuberance of a young girl playing hopscotch with great relish, while, in a rare unguarded moment, she sings of the anguish of unfulfilled desire without an iota of self-parody. It is her dealings with audiences, as winsome coquette and imperious school-ma’am rolled into one, that allows her to settle into her element, charming and roasting spectators with equal ease.

Ajeet Singh Palawat, Hunkaro

Language: Haryanvi, Hindi, Marwadi and Awadhi | Director: Mohit Takalkar

Ajeet Singh Palawat (right) with Bharati Perwani and Puneet Mishra in Hunkaro (Photo Credit: Ujaagar Dramatic Association)

All of the essential qualities that give Hunkaro, Mohit Takalkar’s exploration of folk storytelling, its transformative power, can be found in the person of Ajeet Singh Palawat, an actor whose passion, dedication and gravitas is now a given. Palawat enviably walks the tightrope of infusing almost meditative discipline and precision into a folk ethos seemingly powered by raw colloquial fervour, without tempering the appearance of authenticity in any way. In the battle between rigour, aesthetics and those elements of performance that are to be left untrammelled, the actor demonstrates a parting of the waves, with his resonant voice lending itself to both speaking and singing interludes with equal felicity. Moreover, it adds a palpable pathos to stories of abrupt displacement, hungry bellies and obscured livelihood.

Girish Sharma, Golden Jubilee

Language: Hindi | Director: Saurabh Nayyar

Girish Sharma (left) with Niketa Saraf in Golden Jubilee (Photo Credit: D for Drama)

From a story by satirist Harishankar Parsai, writer-director Saurabh Nayyar has fashioned the musical Golden Jubilee, a no-holds-barred mock-up of the escapist fare that was once Hindi cinema’s mainstay. Keeping him company is the light-footed Girish Sharma, who throws himself into the part of a 60s-era leading man as if it were the role he was born to play, replete with bell-bottoms and psychedelic shirts, even as audiences scamper to guess each real-life actor reference that Sharma throws up with the amiable insouciance of a master juggler. In a turf that favours spoof over subversion, Sharma’s performance nonetheless enables us to scratch the thin veneer of illusion and delusion that afflicts his character, not with scripted lines or emotional set-pieces, but simply a demeanour that pulsates with sincerity and authenticity.

Mukta Kadam, Via Savargaon Khurd

Language: Marathi (Varhadi) | Director: Suyog Deshpande

Mukta Kadam in Via Savargaon Khurd (Photo Credit: Aasakta, Pune)

Urban actors in smart city casuals enact the Varhadi-speaking rural denizens of Via Savargaon Khurd, Suyog Deshpande’s ‘talk play’ based on the 2016 novel by Dinkar Dabhade. Understanding this Brechtian separation well and astutely wielding the agency it affords, Mukta Kadam takes on the part of village figurehead Mankarna Manwatkar. With deceptive charm and matter-of-fact-ness, Kadam pays more than just lip-service to her character’s self-styled ‘free-willed woman’ with her small desires and modest rebellions. Yet, when push comes to shove, Kadam is not averse to ripping off the bandage, as her character negotiates conservatism and patriarchy not with a feminism that’s too pat to be practical, but by being a part of the status quo with chilling resolve. These dichotomies, handled with a rare sensitivity, allows Kadam to stand out in a strong ensemble.

Rushab Kamdar, Pi Thadoi

Language: Non-verbal with limited Manipuri | Director: Heisnam Tomba Singh

Rushab Kamdar (centre) in Pi Thadoi (Photo Credit: Kalakshetra, Manipur)

In Heisnam Tomba Singh’s ritualistic play for Kalakshetra Manipur, Pi Thadoi, the diligent Mumbai-based actor Rushab Kamdar is of a piece with an otherwise all-Manipuri ensemble. In a striking non-verbal evocation, Kamdar assumes the role of a central ecological entity—a Uningthou tree, chopped up to fashion a ceremonial boat, the Hiyang Hirel, while still connected irrevocably to its subterranean roots in the forest. Demonstrating unwavering focus, physical poise and admirable stoicism, the actor gives us a strong measure of the part’s essence and unwitting omniscience as it lends itself to cultural rites and functional utility alike. While maintaining an enigmatic tranquility, the actor's portrayal gradually builds the poignant undertones that transform his performance into a true lament.

Siddharth Kumar, The Verdict

Language: English | Director: Akarsh Khurana

Siddharth Kumar (left) with Garima Yajnik in The Verdict (Photo Credit: AKVarious)

Akarsh Khurana’s production of Margaret May Hobbs’ stage adaptation of Barry Reed’s novel, The Verdict, showcases Siddharth Kumar’s winning portrayal of Anil D’Souza, a washed-up alcoholic lawyer on a redemption mission. With a disarming blend of effortless flair and a gradually intensifying conviction of purpose, Kumar breathes life into a by-the-numbers courtroom drama. Most famous in its film version by Sydney Lumet, this stage adaptation shifts the action to a languishing Mumbai rife with power brokers and grifters, and Kumar’s ‘anti-hero’ turn is less character study than it is a nuanced counterpoint to the city’s insidiousness; with the actor maintaining a consistent and truthful tenor throughout.