Making of a Play
Aastha is a play I have been extremely proud of, and daresay, consider it to be a finely nuanced script, maybe my best so far. Was 24 when I wrote it and more than a decade later still look at it with a certain amount of satisfaction. I find the relationships well-etched and plot-development fluid. Besides, it has, what Sayeed Alam, the first director of the play, considered, the art of speaking between the lines. The pauses in the play, according to him, played the part of the sutradhar and conveyed what the dialogues left unfinished.
Why am I writing this? I do not know. Maybe a part of me needs catharsis.
Aastha was my tribute to Aastha didi. She had passed away in 1984, committed suicide but I could still feel the pain of her death. On second thoughts, more than the pain of her death, it was perhaps my shot at redemption. In 1996, I read Hermann Hesse’s Gertrude and was tremendously moved by it. And I started writing Aastha, immediately after Man of Letters, my first play, a ghastly concoction of Brecht, Beckett, Sartre, John Osborne and Tendulkar. Getrude became Aastha, Kuhn became Devdutt and Muoth was transformed into Albert Rocha. And everything fell into place with the introduction of Pramod Mittal. Hesse’s story was now Hasan’s. Yes, there was the Buddhist climax (in effect only) which made the story entirely mine. So Aastha came into its own. I showed the first draft to Sayeed Alam and his first reaction was “REWRITE”. But what? No response. “Just rewrite”. I was fed up with him and threw the script in one corner of the house and forgot about it. I next wrote a comedy “Iblees Ka Beta Ishq kar Baitha” It was staged and evoked a few chuckles but that was it. I was writing another play: “Alice in Wonderland” about a middleclass woman who runs away from home and loses her memory. I wrote half the play at a frenetic pace and then lost interest. One day, after rehearsals, over chai and khari, Sayeed Alam said: “I have a booking for November. Give me a play. “Alice in Wonderland,” I said. I decided to finish the play. But the problem was that I could not locate it. I dug into every corner but it was not to be. What came out instead was the discarded Aastha. I read it twice and understood what the problem was. The characters were talking just too much. I picked up a pen and instead of rewriting the play, simply cut off lines. And the new version was ready. And accepted by the director.
The first reading was held. And it left everyone cold except Digambar (he went on to play Devdutt), Kaushik (he wanted to play Devdutt but was cast as Albert) and of course Sayeed Alam. The rehearsals began. Niti was playing Aastha and she too was not very sure about the play. The play was shaping up well. Two weeks before the opening, Kaushik and Alam had a bitter quarrel and we were looking out for another Albert. Vidya Bhushan was roped in and though he did perform decently, everyone was of the opinion that he should have played Albert’s father if I decided to write a part. Malini was doing the lights and since she was in love with Alam she was constantly comparing Aastha unfavourably to Alam’s comedies.
Came the opening at Sri Ram Centre and Alam and I discovered to our horror that none of the newspapers carried any information on the play. We both decided to quit theatre and concentrate on something more worthwhile. That evening a few people did trickle in. The show’s response was well summed up by Malini. “No one in the audience even coughed, forget moving.” I smiled at her and walked away. The shows on Saturday and Sunday got the crowds in. The newspapers had acknowledged us and word-of-mouth was spreading. And the reviews started pouring in. The Hindu, The Statesman, The Times of India, Mid-Day (Delhi), The Sunday Observer were glowing in their reviews. Only Kavita Nagpal of Hindustan Times hated the play. But we didn’t care. We started getting standing ovations and every year Aastha would be on boards for a couple of months. We also got paid-shows from Max Mueller Bhavan and PhD House of Chambers and Commerce. They hosted a dinner for us after the show and most of the cast got drunk. It was a nice feeling. But between me and Sayeed Alam things started to cool off and by 2000 I had written The Last Supper, my last play for his troupe. Once, Alam rejected my Much Ado About Something, it was ‘officially’ over between us. Prakash Bhatia of New Delhi Players produced it and I was directing my first play. A few months later, he asked me to revive Aastha. In the meantime I had decided to move to Bombay and thus, Aastha was to be my Delhi swansong. Within a week of staging three shows, I had moved bag and baggage to Bombay. As an aside, let me add that the reviews again were very positive this time.
The first few years in Bombay were uneventful and were spent in surviving the city and its demands. I joined MouthShut.com and have been there since. A book came in between. And then the plays started happening all over again. First Neither Full Nor Three Quarters (based on a short story by Gulzar) and then Mirror Mirror on the Wall (a solo performed by Paayal Nair). I was back on stage. The big bang was about to happen. I felt it within. I was signed on by Umesh Mehra of Eagle Films to write the screenplay of a film he was planning. Things were working out, I felt. We developed two story ideas but rejected them one after another. A third idea was discussed at length and we began work in earnestness. At the end of the first draft I signed my first film contract and was paid a signing amount. But the film had not taken off as yet. But I was not perturbed as I was on the verge of beginning Aastha in Bombay. That was a dream for all of us back in Delhi – to stage Aastha in Bombay. I was the only one from that team to witness the play being staged here. Bobby Vats had worked with me in Neither Full Nor Three Quarters and he introduced me to Ashwini. Ashwini had recently launched her media company and for the last two years was looking for the “right script”. I narrated the story to her and she was interested. A few days later we had a reading of the play and at the end of it, we shook hands and decided to collaborate. She asked me to also direct the play and I accepted her offer. Now we had to put the cast together in place.
I had just returned from Delhi after attending my brother’s wedding. One of the cable channels was showing ‘Sins’ an awful movie by Vinod Pandey. The only redeeming feature was an actor whom I had seen earlier in television serials and even in Shahrukh Khan’s Om Shanti Om but whose name I did not know. He was Nitesh Pandey, I discovered on the Internet, and a few scenes into the movie I knew I had to approach him for Pramod Mittal’s part. He was simply mesmerising. I got his number from a few friends and fixed up a time with him. We met at Barista, Lokhandwala. I narrated the story to him and he seemed to like it. His only question was: “How far is the last scene of Pramod Mittal from the climax of the play?” “Two,” I lied to him – Mittal’s role ends first scene after interval. On Christmas I met Sumit Ragahvan of Sarabhai vs Sarabhai fame. He liked the story but after a few days excused himself saying that he was very busy. Mithilesh Kumar was roped in to play Afridi’s role and Renu Pandey, his wife. Paayal I just bullied into accepting Sheila’s part. The casting for Aastha, Devdutt, and the journalist Raja Karanjia had still to be done. I met Rupali Ganguly for Aastha’s part but she never got back. In the meantime, the first reading of the play with the rest of the cast was held. People were surprised that the play was in a mixture of Hindi and English – not Hinglish – certain scenes were in Hindi and some in English. I told them that this was an experiment. I was bullshitting. The play was originally written in English and then translated into Hindustani. Over the years, I had a few scenes in English and Hindi left with me – the complete versions of either were lost. So I strung together whatever I had with me into a new chain.
I spent the next two months getting my cast together. I met Joy Sengupta for Devdutt. We met twice and then he decided to attend a reading to help him come to a decision. Nitesh suggested Shweta Gulati, “a young but mature actress”. I met Shweta at a studio in Andheri. Like others she too needed a script. I emailed it to her and a few days later got her assent over SMS.
With the cast in place, except Raja Karanjia, we started reading the play. The group met twice a week at my place. I usually offer my house to kick start a play as it strengthens the bond between the group members. There is no boundation of time and people can stay back as long as they feel. Joy gave us his nod and started participating in the proceedings. In early March he told us that he would be away for a month, shooting for a film based on a Tagore story. We agreed and the rehearsals continued. Scenes would be read and re-read and then interpreted. I had still not begun the blocking but the actors were now getting familiar with the emotional terrain of the play. Ashwini arranged a meeting between Bakul Thakkar and me for Karanjia’s role. Bakul heard the story, took the script and a few days later refused saying “the role has nothing to it, though the play is beautiful. If you had offered me any other part I would have accepted it.” Point taken. I knew Paayal also was not happy with Sheila’s role and was trying to wriggle her way out of it. I had to take a decision. I knew not many mainstream actors would accept Karanjia’s part. So, I decided to change Karanjia’s gender. Paayal would now be doing two roles. Much like Nitesh who was also playing Afridi. After the first reading, he had expressed a desire to do the other role as well. It was more of a polite demand than a request. I consented to it as I did not want to lose out on an actor of his calibre.
Working with Nitesh was indeed a pleasure. Despite his weight, his energy to work was limitless. And so was his capacity to interpret a role and follow the director’s interpretations. His roots in theatre lay with Satyadev Dubey and there were always some anecdotes about his guru. Pramod Mittal was always a very exciting character and Nitesh was building him up with a lot of passion and skill. Rehearsals without Nitesh were so much less fun since without him, Mittal would also be absent.
The first time Shweta came for the rehearsals, I was impressed with her understanding of the basic emotions in the script. A few days later she had her questions and soon got into the groove. She was enjoying the play and it showed. A chatterbox, I enjoyed her company. She would often tell me, “I’ve told my friends, you need to come and see the play. You’ll be proud of me.”
Paayal is an incredible performer and I’ve told her this many-a-time. Unfortunately, I had no major part for her this time but I wanted her in, no matter what. I cajoled her and tried to reason with her but when that did not work, I sent her emotional SMSes. Poor thing had no choice but to cave in. Casting her as the journalist Lavanya Swaroopa Devi seemed to be a master stroke. She and Nitesh were doing this scene together and we were all having fun. They were simply irresistible. Although as Sheila I had felt that Paayal was just sleep-walking through the part.
Joy had reservations about the play but he had no reservations in expressing them. He made me nervous and one day I told him so. I noticed a genuinely affectionate smile on him. I asked him: “You have so many issues with the play, there must be something in it that you like since you are doing it.” “Yes, I like the broad-strokes and the innocence in the relationships.” A few days later Ashwini announced that the play would open at NCPA on May 24 and 25. In February itself Joy had told us that he would be away in May. And May it was that we were to open Aastha. It was the first time I panicked. But since the gang was too enthused, I didn’t worry for long. Everyone was on the phone getting in touch with actors whom they knew. Soon I had to choose between five actors. Aman Verma too was in the running and I thought he would be crucial for the show’s commercial success though I was unsure of his commitment since he was overbooked in television and commercial live shows and also he did come with his own baggage. Nitesh and Shweta recommended Anupam Bhattacharya, a fellow television artiste. Anupam came in and a day later he was on. It was unfortunate that Joy was unable to be part of Aastha since he brought to the table loads of things.
Bobby was the one who had kickstarted the play. He had taken the initiative to introduce me to Ashvini but now all was not well. He is a wooden actor but was working very hard with me. But unfortunately Nitesh made him insecure. The apprehension that Nitesh might chew up the scenery was scary initially, but this insecurity started developing into a full-blown animosity. One day, Bobby lost his balance and almost attacked Nitesh physically. Nitesh handled the situation admirably and things were back on track.
Aastha was going to be Anupam’s stage debut but he went on working like an old warhorse. As the show began to close in, my demands on the group increased. Anupam kept his cool and went on with the proceedings absolutely understanding my almost-tyrannical approach.
One day, Bobby announced that he was going to Singapore for a film-shoot and would arrive two days before the show. Ten days before the opening and our anti-hero decides to go away. A precarious situation it was. Bakul was called in and explained the situation. He said yes this time and within five days was ‘into it’.
As the clock ticked away the rehearsal schedule became intense and we would work well into midnight. Banwari Jhol, the mime artist had two scenes in the play – the first and the last. He would often fall asleep waiting for his turn. Shweta was afflicted with piles and early-morning shoots but she went on unmindful of the physical strain she was in. Nitesh was juggling between two shoots. I myself was down with dehydration. But we all went on, the atmosphere was electric. We were all possessed.
Ashwini had booked the auditorium a day in advance. The day was spent in setting up the stage, props and lights. We watched people book their tickets and smiled, thrilled. At 8 pm, the dress rehearsals began. We had members of Ashwini’s family and a few guards of NCPA as audience. They clapped vociferously in some scenes. Good sign. At ten, I suggested some modifications and we all left, satisfied. Around midnight Ashwini sent me a message, congratulating me for a job well done. I went off to sleep. Next morning, my wife woke me up, excited. “Your play opens today, how can you sleep? Get up.” I was surprisingly relaxed. I shaved and put on my best kurta over jeans and headed to the auditorium, with a song on my lips.
We were there by 10 and the lights were being done. We were told it would take another hour or so. Fine, since Paayal who had hurt her foot a day earlier had gone to visit the doctor. Paayal came by one but the lights were still not done. Another hour passed by and another after that. It was three and I knew expecting a run-through would be asking for too much. But a show without a run-through can be disastrous. At four we got the stage and I put the actors in for a technical rehearsal. Cues for the lights and music done, we broke for lunch at 5 and an hour later the actors got busy with their makeup.
I was not hungry and spent the day gulping coffee, samabhar and soft-drinks with cigarettes. The play was to open within a few hours and I had lost my appetite for everything. At 6:15 I noticed only 15 people had turned up for the 7 o clock show. I got into the panic mode again. Where was the audience? Had it decided to stay away after buying tickets? My fears were unfounded and fifteen minutes before the scheduled time, people started streaming in. I decided to delay the opening by 10 minutes and spent the time checking the properties and having one last discussion with the lights and music guys.
At 7:10 the hall lights went off and a gentle spot enveloped Devdutt Bose and a musical note announced the birth of Aastha in Mumbai. I was standing in the aisle watching the actors get into the act. After Anupam finished his opening soliloquy, it was time for the main action. Nitesh sped in with Banwari Jhol and tripped on his very first line. My heart skipped a beat. He recovered quickly and went bam-bam-bam. Too loud, I thought. Some of his best lines were incomprehensible. Bakul entered and got into a confrontation with Nitesh right away. But there was no chemistry between them. I broke into cold sweat. Next scene was Bakul’s soliloquy and the audience remained unmoved. It was followed by a confrontation scene between Bakul and Nitesh again with Paayal and Anupam having an important part to play. It was an exciting scene always but something was amiss as the audience was not only unresponsive, I could sense them getting restless. When the Nitesh-Paayal scene too did not elicit even a smile, I sought refuge in the green room. Shweta was ready with her entry and I hugged her. She entered the stage and for the first time during the performance I heard the audience applauding. A few scenes later, the audience came out during the interval. No one was saying anything. Whoo! 10 minutes later the bell rang and the audience went back to the play. The court scene was Mittal’s pièce de résistance. Yet, at best Nitesh came up with a nearly decent performance. The applause was there but mild. However, people were simply adoring Shweta’s act. It was Anupam’s turn towards the end and it was difficult for him to sustain. The opening show was done with. I was relieved but sorely disappointed. The general reaction was :”Um … um … good.” Shweta was the talking point, the others were not and the play, um … um … let’s leave it at that.
After the high of the grand rehearsal, I was unusually quiet that night.
Next day, I summoned the cast at noontime. I picked up a mike and made a few changes, here and there. The general feedback was that the performance lacked fire. The last scene was too long for Anupam to sustain. Nitesh and I locked ourselves in a room with Anupam and had a long chat with him. That over, I summoned the cast on stage and made suggestions.
Anupam: You need to have more pace. Don’t shorten the pauses, but make them more energetic.
Nitesh: Concentrate on clarity.
Bakul: Just get into the mind of an alcoholic superstar. Not just an alcoholic.
Shweta: You did fine. Maybe cut down on so and so movement in your breakdown scene.
Banwari Jhol: Clarity. Go slow with your punches, don’t rush through them.
Paayal: Get more energy in the court scene.
Renu Pandey: More energy. Internalise the lines.
Lunch break was again at 5 this evening. The din was less, everyone seemed to be lost in their thoughts. At 5:45 the guys were in the greenroom. By 6:15 everyone was ready. After the customary ‘puja’ and my ‘pass your energy into each other’ ritual, I let the audience in. It was to a full house that Anupam started speaking as Devdutt. This time when Nitesh walked in with Banwari Jhol he held the audience by the scruff and refused to let go. Unlike the opening night, every scene was followed by a loud applause and every line which had potential for a laugh was lapped up with thunderous joy. All intense scenes were met with pin drop silence and appreciated with deafening claps at the end. Today, Nitesh was performing to his potential and everyone else rallied around him. During interval, I met Umesh Mehra and he was all praise for Nitesh and Shweta. Ashwini had a word with Dolly Thakore who was of the opinion that such plays need to be performed more often. Post-interval, the court scene and Aastha’s breakdown sequence and the hospital scene (incidentally, I always thought it was the worst scene in the script) had the audience asking for more. In fact, in the court scene Nitesh and Bakul often had to hold back for the applause to subside. It was the last scene, however, which saw the pace dipping. Anupam could not hold the long soliloquy. My failure as a director.
We got a standing ovation and there were some women in the audience who shook hands with me, saying they cried profusely in the play. I quipped: “In the play, not at the play, I hope.” They gaped at me and I went inside to join the team. Dolly Thakore came backstage and we all clicked pictures with her. It was party time and people just let themselves go. I was drunk without touching a drop of alcohol. I danced a bit, ate a lot and hugged my actors even more. That night, I was satisfied.
The reviews started coming in from the next day. And boy, was the play trashed. The critics uniformly found the play to be very melodramatic. Time Out was at least found the story to be touching but the rest were adamant to blast it. I was not shaken since there was another performance to go and probably the intensity of the reviews had not sunk in as yet. My team was not perturbed, at least they seemed unruffled. We decided to concentrate on the show three weeks hence. But the problem was this time people started taking things for granted, a human tendency to take it easy once you’ve come out unscathed.
Finally rehearsals for the June 22 show started just five days before. I used the gap to work with Anupam. I trimmed the last scene and we sweated it out till midnight. While the entire gang was holidaying or shooting, Anupam would be at the rehearsals every night at 9 and we would be at it till midnight. Shweta and Paayal joined us intermittently but it was Anupam and Anupam only who was made to toil. One day Joy called up and asked me about the venue. “Manik Sabahgriha,” I replied. “Arre why there? It’s not the right place, the audience hardly turns up.” My heart skipped a beat but there was nothing we could do now. Bakul too had warned Ashwini and me of this but at that time we were too concerned about the opening show to pay any attention.
The advance booking was very poor. And so were the current booking. The show was performed to a 20% capacity. As a performance, it was okay but since the audience was not there, there was nothing to cheer about. Ashwini had recorded the play and I do keep seeing it every now and then. When Deepa Gahlot trashed the play, I got numb. The reactions in Delhi helped me gain confidence as a playwright. In Bombay, the response of the critics made me lose all confidence. There was a show on August 9 but Ashwini says NCPA cancelled it due to a communication gap. My reading of the situation is that Ashwini lost heavily in the production, especially on account of the third show and the fact that she had spent like a woman possessed. She was an earnest producer and whatever she did was for the play. Whatever was the real reason, I was devastated. I went through a long period of depression.
The wounds are not raw, but they still hurt. I am working on a different medium now and planning my next book. Let’s see when that materialises. I have two options in front of me. Either wallow in self-pity and continue hurting myself or forge ahead. I still have to decide my path.
(This essay was written in October 2008)
Aastha is a play I have been extremely proud of, and daresay, consider it to be a finely nuanced script, maybe my best so far. Was 24 when I wrote it and more than a decade later still look at it with a certain amount of satisfaction. I find the relationships well-etched and plot-development fluid. Besides, it has, what Sayeed Alam, the first director of the play, considered, the art of speaking between the lines. The pauses in the play, according to him, played the part of the sutradhar and conveyed what the dialogues left unfinished.
Why am I writing this? I do not know. Maybe a part of me needs catharsis.
Aastha was my tribute to Aastha didi. She had passed away in 1984, committed suicide but I could still feel the pain of her death. On second thoughts, more than the pain of her death, it was perhaps my shot at redemption. In 1996, I read Hermann Hesse’s Gertrude and was tremendously moved by it. And I started writing Aastha, immediately after Man of Letters, my first play, a ghastly concoction of Brecht, Beckett, Sartre, John Osborne and Tendulkar. Getrude became Aastha, Kuhn became Devdutt and Muoth was transformed into Albert Rocha. And everything fell into place with the introduction of Pramod Mittal. Hesse’s story was now Hasan’s. Yes, there was the Buddhist climax (in effect only) which made the story entirely mine. So Aastha came into its own. I showed the first draft to Sayeed Alam and his first reaction was “REWRITE”. But what? No response. “Just rewrite”. I was fed up with him and threw the script in one corner of the house and forgot about it. I next wrote a comedy “Iblees Ka Beta Ishq kar Baitha” It was staged and evoked a few chuckles but that was it. I was writing another play: “Alice in Wonderland” about a middleclass woman who runs away from home and loses her memory. I wrote half the play at a frenetic pace and then lost interest. One day, after rehearsals, over chai and khari, Sayeed Alam said: “I have a booking for November. Give me a play. “Alice in Wonderland,” I said. I decided to finish the play. But the problem was that I could not locate it. I dug into every corner but it was not to be. What came out instead was the discarded Aastha. I read it twice and understood what the problem was. The characters were talking just too much. I picked up a pen and instead of rewriting the play, simply cut off lines. And the new version was ready. And accepted by the director.
The first reading was held. And it left everyone cold except Digambar (he went on to play Devdutt), Kaushik (he wanted to play Devdutt but was cast as Albert) and of course Sayeed Alam. The rehearsals began. Niti was playing Aastha and she too was not very sure about the play. The play was shaping up well. Two weeks before the opening, Kaushik and Alam had a bitter quarrel and we were looking out for another Albert. Vidya Bhushan was roped in and though he did perform decently, everyone was of the opinion that he should have played Albert’s father if I decided to write a part. Malini was doing the lights and since she was in love with Alam she was constantly comparing Aastha unfavourably to Alam’s comedies.
Came the opening at Sri Ram Centre and Alam and I discovered to our horror that none of the newspapers carried any information on the play. We both decided to quit theatre and concentrate on something more worthwhile. That evening a few people did trickle in. The show’s response was well summed up by Malini. “No one in the audience even coughed, forget moving.” I smiled at her and walked away. The shows on Saturday and Sunday got the crowds in. The newspapers had acknowledged us and word-of-mouth was spreading. And the reviews started pouring in. The Hindu, The Statesman, The Times of India, Mid-Day (Delhi), The Sunday Observer were glowing in their reviews. Only Kavita Nagpal of Hindustan Times hated the play. But we didn’t care. We started getting standing ovations and every year Aastha would be on boards for a couple of months. We also got paid-shows from Max Mueller Bhavan and PhD House of Chambers and Commerce. They hosted a dinner for us after the show and most of the cast got drunk. It was a nice feeling. But between me and Sayeed Alam things started to cool off and by 2000 I had written The Last Supper, my last play for his troupe. Once, Alam rejected my Much Ado About Something, it was ‘officially’ over between us. Prakash Bhatia of New Delhi Players produced it and I was directing my first play. A few months later, he asked me to revive Aastha. In the meantime I had decided to move to Bombay and thus, Aastha was to be my Delhi swansong. Within a week of staging three shows, I had moved bag and baggage to Bombay. As an aside, let me add that the reviews again were very positive this time.
The first few years in Bombay were uneventful and were spent in surviving the city and its demands. I joined MouthShut.com and have been there since. A book came in between. And then the plays started happening all over again. First Neither Full Nor Three Quarters (based on a short story by Gulzar) and then Mirror Mirror on the Wall (a solo performed by Paayal Nair). I was back on stage. The big bang was about to happen. I felt it within. I was signed on by Umesh Mehra of Eagle Films to write the screenplay of a film he was planning. Things were working out, I felt. We developed two story ideas but rejected them one after another. A third idea was discussed at length and we began work in earnestness. At the end of the first draft I signed my first film contract and was paid a signing amount. But the film had not taken off as yet. But I was not perturbed as I was on the verge of beginning Aastha in Bombay. That was a dream for all of us back in Delhi – to stage Aastha in Bombay. I was the only one from that team to witness the play being staged here. Bobby Vats had worked with me in Neither Full Nor Three Quarters and he introduced me to Ashwini. Ashwini had recently launched her media company and for the last two years was looking for the “right script”. I narrated the story to her and she was interested. A few days later we had a reading of the play and at the end of it, we shook hands and decided to collaborate. She asked me to also direct the play and I accepted her offer. Now we had to put the cast together in place.
I had just returned from Delhi after attending my brother’s wedding. One of the cable channels was showing ‘Sins’ an awful movie by Vinod Pandey. The only redeeming feature was an actor whom I had seen earlier in television serials and even in Shahrukh Khan’s Om Shanti Om but whose name I did not know. He was Nitesh Pandey, I discovered on the Internet, and a few scenes into the movie I knew I had to approach him for Pramod Mittal’s part. He was simply mesmerising. I got his number from a few friends and fixed up a time with him. We met at Barista, Lokhandwala. I narrated the story to him and he seemed to like it. His only question was: “How far is the last scene of Pramod Mittal from the climax of the play?” “Two,” I lied to him – Mittal’s role ends first scene after interval. On Christmas I met Sumit Ragahvan of Sarabhai vs Sarabhai fame. He liked the story but after a few days excused himself saying that he was very busy. Mithilesh Kumar was roped in to play Afridi’s role and Renu Pandey, his wife. Paayal I just bullied into accepting Sheila’s part. The casting for Aastha, Devdutt, and the journalist Raja Karanjia had still to be done. I met Rupali Ganguly for Aastha’s part but she never got back. In the meantime, the first reading of the play with the rest of the cast was held. People were surprised that the play was in a mixture of Hindi and English – not Hinglish – certain scenes were in Hindi and some in English. I told them that this was an experiment. I was bullshitting. The play was originally written in English and then translated into Hindustani. Over the years, I had a few scenes in English and Hindi left with me – the complete versions of either were lost. So I strung together whatever I had with me into a new chain.
I spent the next two months getting my cast together. I met Joy Sengupta for Devdutt. We met twice and then he decided to attend a reading to help him come to a decision. Nitesh suggested Shweta Gulati, “a young but mature actress”. I met Shweta at a studio in Andheri. Like others she too needed a script. I emailed it to her and a few days later got her assent over SMS.
With the cast in place, except Raja Karanjia, we started reading the play. The group met twice a week at my place. I usually offer my house to kick start a play as it strengthens the bond between the group members. There is no boundation of time and people can stay back as long as they feel. Joy gave us his nod and started participating in the proceedings. In early March he told us that he would be away for a month, shooting for a film based on a Tagore story. We agreed and the rehearsals continued. Scenes would be read and re-read and then interpreted. I had still not begun the blocking but the actors were now getting familiar with the emotional terrain of the play. Ashwini arranged a meeting between Bakul Thakkar and me for Karanjia’s role. Bakul heard the story, took the script and a few days later refused saying “the role has nothing to it, though the play is beautiful. If you had offered me any other part I would have accepted it.” Point taken. I knew Paayal also was not happy with Sheila’s role and was trying to wriggle her way out of it. I had to take a decision. I knew not many mainstream actors would accept Karanjia’s part. So, I decided to change Karanjia’s gender. Paayal would now be doing two roles. Much like Nitesh who was also playing Afridi. After the first reading, he had expressed a desire to do the other role as well. It was more of a polite demand than a request. I consented to it as I did not want to lose out on an actor of his calibre.
Working with Nitesh was indeed a pleasure. Despite his weight, his energy to work was limitless. And so was his capacity to interpret a role and follow the director’s interpretations. His roots in theatre lay with Satyadev Dubey and there were always some anecdotes about his guru. Pramod Mittal was always a very exciting character and Nitesh was building him up with a lot of passion and skill. Rehearsals without Nitesh were so much less fun since without him, Mittal would also be absent.
The first time Shweta came for the rehearsals, I was impressed with her understanding of the basic emotions in the script. A few days later she had her questions and soon got into the groove. She was enjoying the play and it showed. A chatterbox, I enjoyed her company. She would often tell me, “I’ve told my friends, you need to come and see the play. You’ll be proud of me.”
Paayal is an incredible performer and I’ve told her this many-a-time. Unfortunately, I had no major part for her this time but I wanted her in, no matter what. I cajoled her and tried to reason with her but when that did not work, I sent her emotional SMSes. Poor thing had no choice but to cave in. Casting her as the journalist Lavanya Swaroopa Devi seemed to be a master stroke. She and Nitesh were doing this scene together and we were all having fun. They were simply irresistible. Although as Sheila I had felt that Paayal was just sleep-walking through the part.
Joy had reservations about the play but he had no reservations in expressing them. He made me nervous and one day I told him so. I noticed a genuinely affectionate smile on him. I asked him: “You have so many issues with the play, there must be something in it that you like since you are doing it.” “Yes, I like the broad-strokes and the innocence in the relationships.” A few days later Ashwini announced that the play would open at NCPA on May 24 and 25. In February itself Joy had told us that he would be away in May. And May it was that we were to open Aastha. It was the first time I panicked. But since the gang was too enthused, I didn’t worry for long. Everyone was on the phone getting in touch with actors whom they knew. Soon I had to choose between five actors. Aman Verma too was in the running and I thought he would be crucial for the show’s commercial success though I was unsure of his commitment since he was overbooked in television and commercial live shows and also he did come with his own baggage. Nitesh and Shweta recommended Anupam Bhattacharya, a fellow television artiste. Anupam came in and a day later he was on. It was unfortunate that Joy was unable to be part of Aastha since he brought to the table loads of things.
Bobby was the one who had kickstarted the play. He had taken the initiative to introduce me to Ashvini but now all was not well. He is a wooden actor but was working very hard with me. But unfortunately Nitesh made him insecure. The apprehension that Nitesh might chew up the scenery was scary initially, but this insecurity started developing into a full-blown animosity. One day, Bobby lost his balance and almost attacked Nitesh physically. Nitesh handled the situation admirably and things were back on track.
Aastha was going to be Anupam’s stage debut but he went on working like an old warhorse. As the show began to close in, my demands on the group increased. Anupam kept his cool and went on with the proceedings absolutely understanding my almost-tyrannical approach.
One day, Bobby announced that he was going to Singapore for a film-shoot and would arrive two days before the show. Ten days before the opening and our anti-hero decides to go away. A precarious situation it was. Bakul was called in and explained the situation. He said yes this time and within five days was ‘into it’.
As the clock ticked away the rehearsal schedule became intense and we would work well into midnight. Banwari Jhol, the mime artist had two scenes in the play – the first and the last. He would often fall asleep waiting for his turn. Shweta was afflicted with piles and early-morning shoots but she went on unmindful of the physical strain she was in. Nitesh was juggling between two shoots. I myself was down with dehydration. But we all went on, the atmosphere was electric. We were all possessed.
Ashwini had booked the auditorium a day in advance. The day was spent in setting up the stage, props and lights. We watched people book their tickets and smiled, thrilled. At 8 pm, the dress rehearsals began. We had members of Ashwini’s family and a few guards of NCPA as audience. They clapped vociferously in some scenes. Good sign. At ten, I suggested some modifications and we all left, satisfied. Around midnight Ashwini sent me a message, congratulating me for a job well done. I went off to sleep. Next morning, my wife woke me up, excited. “Your play opens today, how can you sleep? Get up.” I was surprisingly relaxed. I shaved and put on my best kurta over jeans and headed to the auditorium, with a song on my lips.
We were there by 10 and the lights were being done. We were told it would take another hour or so. Fine, since Paayal who had hurt her foot a day earlier had gone to visit the doctor. Paayal came by one but the lights were still not done. Another hour passed by and another after that. It was three and I knew expecting a run-through would be asking for too much. But a show without a run-through can be disastrous. At four we got the stage and I put the actors in for a technical rehearsal. Cues for the lights and music done, we broke for lunch at 5 and an hour later the actors got busy with their makeup.
I was not hungry and spent the day gulping coffee, samabhar and soft-drinks with cigarettes. The play was to open within a few hours and I had lost my appetite for everything. At 6:15 I noticed only 15 people had turned up for the 7 o clock show. I got into the panic mode again. Where was the audience? Had it decided to stay away after buying tickets? My fears were unfounded and fifteen minutes before the scheduled time, people started streaming in. I decided to delay the opening by 10 minutes and spent the time checking the properties and having one last discussion with the lights and music guys.
At 7:10 the hall lights went off and a gentle spot enveloped Devdutt Bose and a musical note announced the birth of Aastha in Mumbai. I was standing in the aisle watching the actors get into the act. After Anupam finished his opening soliloquy, it was time for the main action. Nitesh sped in with Banwari Jhol and tripped on his very first line. My heart skipped a beat. He recovered quickly and went bam-bam-bam. Too loud, I thought. Some of his best lines were incomprehensible. Bakul entered and got into a confrontation with Nitesh right away. But there was no chemistry between them. I broke into cold sweat. Next scene was Bakul’s soliloquy and the audience remained unmoved. It was followed by a confrontation scene between Bakul and Nitesh again with Paayal and Anupam having an important part to play. It was an exciting scene always but something was amiss as the audience was not only unresponsive, I could sense them getting restless. When the Nitesh-Paayal scene too did not elicit even a smile, I sought refuge in the green room. Shweta was ready with her entry and I hugged her. She entered the stage and for the first time during the performance I heard the audience applauding. A few scenes later, the audience came out during the interval. No one was saying anything. Whoo! 10 minutes later the bell rang and the audience went back to the play. The court scene was Mittal’s pièce de résistance. Yet, at best Nitesh came up with a nearly decent performance. The applause was there but mild. However, people were simply adoring Shweta’s act. It was Anupam’s turn towards the end and it was difficult for him to sustain. The opening show was done with. I was relieved but sorely disappointed. The general reaction was :”Um … um … good.” Shweta was the talking point, the others were not and the play, um … um … let’s leave it at that.
After the high of the grand rehearsal, I was unusually quiet that night.
Next day, I summoned the cast at noontime. I picked up a mike and made a few changes, here and there. The general feedback was that the performance lacked fire. The last scene was too long for Anupam to sustain. Nitesh and I locked ourselves in a room with Anupam and had a long chat with him. That over, I summoned the cast on stage and made suggestions.
Anupam: You need to have more pace. Don’t shorten the pauses, but make them more energetic.
Nitesh: Concentrate on clarity.
Bakul: Just get into the mind of an alcoholic superstar. Not just an alcoholic.
Shweta: You did fine. Maybe cut down on so and so movement in your breakdown scene.
Banwari Jhol: Clarity. Go slow with your punches, don’t rush through them.
Paayal: Get more energy in the court scene.
Renu Pandey: More energy. Internalise the lines.
Lunch break was again at 5 this evening. The din was less, everyone seemed to be lost in their thoughts. At 5:45 the guys were in the greenroom. By 6:15 everyone was ready. After the customary ‘puja’ and my ‘pass your energy into each other’ ritual, I let the audience in. It was to a full house that Anupam started speaking as Devdutt. This time when Nitesh walked in with Banwari Jhol he held the audience by the scruff and refused to let go. Unlike the opening night, every scene was followed by a loud applause and every line which had potential for a laugh was lapped up with thunderous joy. All intense scenes were met with pin drop silence and appreciated with deafening claps at the end. Today, Nitesh was performing to his potential and everyone else rallied around him. During interval, I met Umesh Mehra and he was all praise for Nitesh and Shweta. Ashwini had a word with Dolly Thakore who was of the opinion that such plays need to be performed more often. Post-interval, the court scene and Aastha’s breakdown sequence and the hospital scene (incidentally, I always thought it was the worst scene in the script) had the audience asking for more. In fact, in the court scene Nitesh and Bakul often had to hold back for the applause to subside. It was the last scene, however, which saw the pace dipping. Anupam could not hold the long soliloquy. My failure as a director.
We got a standing ovation and there were some women in the audience who shook hands with me, saying they cried profusely in the play. I quipped: “In the play, not at the play, I hope.” They gaped at me and I went inside to join the team. Dolly Thakore came backstage and we all clicked pictures with her. It was party time and people just let themselves go. I was drunk without touching a drop of alcohol. I danced a bit, ate a lot and hugged my actors even more. That night, I was satisfied.
The reviews started coming in from the next day. And boy, was the play trashed. The critics uniformly found the play to be very melodramatic. Time Out was at least found the story to be touching but the rest were adamant to blast it. I was not shaken since there was another performance to go and probably the intensity of the reviews had not sunk in as yet. My team was not perturbed, at least they seemed unruffled. We decided to concentrate on the show three weeks hence. But the problem was this time people started taking things for granted, a human tendency to take it easy once you’ve come out unscathed.
Finally rehearsals for the June 22 show started just five days before. I used the gap to work with Anupam. I trimmed the last scene and we sweated it out till midnight. While the entire gang was holidaying or shooting, Anupam would be at the rehearsals every night at 9 and we would be at it till midnight. Shweta and Paayal joined us intermittently but it was Anupam and Anupam only who was made to toil. One day Joy called up and asked me about the venue. “Manik Sabahgriha,” I replied. “Arre why there? It’s not the right place, the audience hardly turns up.” My heart skipped a beat but there was nothing we could do now. Bakul too had warned Ashwini and me of this but at that time we were too concerned about the opening show to pay any attention.
The advance booking was very poor. And so were the current booking. The show was performed to a 20% capacity. As a performance, it was okay but since the audience was not there, there was nothing to cheer about. Ashwini had recorded the play and I do keep seeing it every now and then. When Deepa Gahlot trashed the play, I got numb. The reactions in Delhi helped me gain confidence as a playwright. In Bombay, the response of the critics made me lose all confidence. There was a show on August 9 but Ashwini says NCPA cancelled it due to a communication gap. My reading of the situation is that Ashwini lost heavily in the production, especially on account of the third show and the fact that she had spent like a woman possessed. She was an earnest producer and whatever she did was for the play. Whatever was the real reason, I was devastated. I went through a long period of depression.
The wounds are not raw, but they still hurt. I am working on a different medium now and planning my next book. Let’s see when that materialises. I have two options in front of me. Either wallow in self-pity and continue hurting myself or forge ahead. I still have to decide my path.
(This essay was written in October 2008)
