The journey into theatre began during college years, as one of half-a-dozen students contorting around a tall umbrella stand in Mohan Rakesh's play 'Chhatriyan' (Umbrellas). The one-act play was prepared by the college and carried to the youth festival at GHG Khalsa College in Gurusar Sadhar, near Ludhiana. The play managed to get by thanks to passionate professor-directors and an excellent lead actor who later joined the Army.
The Theatrical Start
At dawn, hostel residents lined up to be picked up by professors. Never before or since has so much been packed into a single auto-rickshaw: actors, professors, personal belongings, umbrellas, and a huge metal umbrella stand. They arrived at the bus stand, disgorging humans and objects to the amusement of waiting passengers. An inevitable argument followed over the settled fare versus what had to be paid to the driver. Then they were off.
My memory has selectively retained bits from that day. The key takeaway was the realisation that I enjoyed theatre. As my golfing friends say, 'The bug had bitten.'
From Mono-Acts to Film Offers
As the bug continued chomping, I did the rounds between mono-acts and regular plays. There was even a moment when a film role was offered, but that passed. One memorable moment was when the passionate professors introduced us to the late Gurcharan Singh Channi, already well known for his remarkable street plays. While it was time for me to leave Chandigarh, some newly minted thespians became part of Channi's team.
Back in the hills, the local club—what the West would call a 'gentleman's club'—has a 19th-century mandate to remain theatre-focused, giving the institution its core identity. I was introduced to Dr KC Khanna, a distinguished academic and father of artist Krishen Khanna, who was preparing to stage 'Dial M for Murder'. The next thing I knew, I was part of the cast.
Having just inched out of the teens, I pretended to be as suave and world-weary as only an 'early-twentier' can. That moment passed. Dozens of productions followed—some in English, some in Hindi, and occasional workshops for children. Some were serious, some farcical, some vacuous.
Backstage Dramas and Hidden Traits
Each play has had its moments—a few sad or disappointing, but most delightfully happy. Backstage dramas have unfolded, revealing hidden traits of people, sometimes unpleasant. Once, when I was not part of the regular play, the lead actor threw a tantrum two days before the final production and walked out. I was pulled from the woodwork, with cheat-slips hidden all over the stage and able assistance from prompters, and managed to fill in.
Recently, a cat upstaged players at an open-air theatre in Izmir, Turkey, during the tragic final scene of 'Romeo and Juliet' by the Imperial Russian Ballet Company. The cat pawed at the hair of the 'dead' Romeo (Romeow?). Juliet had to drag the body away from feline attention.
Upstaged by Tourists at Gaiety Theatre
In Shimla, in a homespun amateur production, we had our own moment of being upstaged. The layout of Shimla's enchanting Gaiety Theatre is such that only a couple of doors stand between the stage and the main thoroughfare, the Mall. We were in the middle of a tense scene with a hall packed with an enthusiastic audience, including more than a few VVIPs.
A family of tourists decided to open the doors and saunter in. Someone had forgotten to bolt the outer door. While we stared, stunned, with all lines and cues lost, the husband, wife, and their two children examined us, took a look at the audience, examined us again to fathom if we were real, and ambled off as casually as they had wandered in. The audience was in splits, and the laughter continued while we grappled with a disrupted scene of seriousness.
