The gate that opens into Aram Nagar in Versova could be mistaken for a portal to travel into the past. Single-storey houses are scattered within this large compound, connected by an unpaved, pebbled road.
It is not nostalgia for a bygone era that has made me give up a lazy Sunday to drive from my edge of the city to this edge of the city. It is a play at Tamaasha Studio. Having resisted this performance space for months for being too 'far out', I had finally braved the distance a couple of months ago and had come away with goosebumps that persisted for a week. And the memory of that experience has brought me back.
Tamaasha occupies one of the houses in Aram Nagar. Fairy lights brighten the foyer. A kiosk in a corner sells tea, coffee and 'homemade brownies', the homemade reiterated by the Tupperware box they are sold from. A balding, grey-haired man with a cigarette dangling at his mouth mingles among the ticket holders, chatting with the regulars. A few minutes later he will stand by the passage to collect the ticket stubs and later he may well be on stage. He is Sunil Shanbag, renowned theatre director, actor and the curator at Tamaasha.
I can feel the anticipation growling in my stomach as I walk in to take a seat. The performance space at Tamaasha is not the traditional stage set up. A rectangular room, not bigger than an average-sized living room is split into half. The half meant for the audience is demarcated by floor cushions and bleacher-like benches, the other half for the actors is bare.
I am here for Criminal Tribes Act. The play (for the lack of a suitable word) is based on a legislation enforced by the British in 1871. By this Act, certain Indian ethnic and social communities were classified as "addicted to systematic commission of non-bailable offences" and restrictions were imposed on them on the basis of this "addiction" without them having actually committed any crime. In 1952 the communities were denotified and the Act was replaced by Habitual Offenders Act.
What is the relevance of an abolished Act today? Why, a play about it? Because, uncomfortable as it may make us feel, discrimination continues to exist and we are all party to it. Through its narrative, Criminal Tribes Act draws attention to the fact that it may be 2018 but two world continue to exist - that of the discriminator and that of the discriminated.
The performance is informal, structured as a conversation between Chandru who belongs to a Scheduled Caste and Rudy who is a Kshatriya by birth. Chandru's caste has been relevant through his life and Rudy only became aware of it in his adulthood. Through the one hour, both characters talk of their experiences and how their caste has defined their lives. When Chandru takes a piece of chalk and draws the map of his village and demarcates areas where he is allowed and where he isn't the physical reality of the discrimination hits home.
Chandru speaks in his native tongue, some of which can be inferred and some is translated by Rudy. Despite having the propensity to be didactic, the performance is not. The interactions between the two come across as a chat between two friends, debate-like at times but laced with good humour. When the performance ends, Chandru is shown sweeping the stage while Rudy stands on one side. The performance had begun with the same scene. These two simple, silent scenes drive home the point that not much has changed in how our lives continue to be rooted in the circumstances of our birth. By not pointing fingers, Criminal Tribes Act forces us to examine the little acts of discrimination that are so deeply embedded in us that we don't recognize their existence. In a way perhaps, we are worse off than our ancestors, we commit these acts unconsciously and without a pinch to our conscience.
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The week is not over yet, next on the list is Anurag Kashyap's Mukkabaaz. A small film with a cast headlined by Jimmy Shergill. The story follows the life of Shravan, played by Vineet Kumar Singh who looks familiar from perhaps having played bit roles in other Kashyap movies. Shravan is a boxer in a small UP town, where the boxing "federation" is run mafia-style by has-been Bhagwan Das (Shergill). Unlike the other young boxers who are willing to shop and cook and clean for Bhagwan Das to be at the receiving end of his generosity, Shravan dithers from toeing the line. This is the first reason for his clash with the boxing don. Add to that, he falls in love with Bhagwan Das' niece and wants to spend his life with her. But, the don's ego has been pricked and he will not let Shravan succeed, neither as boxer nor as loverboy.
The narrative follows Shravan's fight against the don and in effect also the system which is infected by so many ills that it is no wonder that it cannot be cured. Through the eyes of a young man from a Tier II UP city, Kashyap highlights Caste, religion, corruption, nepotism and more override talent and hardwork, in this case in the field of boxing but possibly true in other fields too. The performances are to the point and the storyteller's unwavering honesty to real settings and characters holds you within the story. There are points where Kashyap wavers away from the storyline with scenes that seem to be there more to showcase his brilliance rather than contribute to the plot. But he is brilliant and you are inclined to forgive his transgressions.
Mukkabaaz is of that ilk as some of the reasonably successful small films of 2017 where the story takes precedence over everything else. Strangely all these films are set in small, mostly North Indian, towns. On my wish list for 2018 is a so-called "small film" in a megacity.
All in all, this week has been a fulfilling one, an assault by creative genius.
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