IT’S as different from the Satyajit Ray film as you can imagine. Two actors are performing Premchand’s Shatranj Ke Khiladi on Prithvi Theatre’s intimate stage in Mumbai, while director Naseeruddin Shah and the rest of a theatre workshop watch. The director rarely interrupts, except for a smiling shake of the head when his actors fumble. When it ends, seated under the awning, Shah conversationally tells one to stop swaying (‘‘it’s distracting’’) and the other to listen to the narrator, so he doesn’t lose crucial timing.
‘‘I didn’t like the film,’’ Shah, 50, reveals later, seated in the mottled sunshine of Prithvi’s cafe, ‘‘Ray, as great as he was, ventured into an area that he didn’t know about. The film turned out morose, when the story is actually very funny.’’
Shah has begun rehearsals for his new play based on Premchand’s two stories Shatranj Ke Khiladi and Bade Bhaisaab. The third monologue in the series is a story written by contemporary Hindi writer Kamla Nath, called Sankraman. A playwright from the workshop casually asks Shah why he stages only works by Ismat Chugtai, Saadat Hasan Manto (Ismat Apa Ke Naam, Manto Ismat Hazir Hain) and Premchand. What is his issue with writers of today? Shah laughs, then concedes, ‘‘I do it to compensate myself. I discovered this literature at the age of 45 even though my mother tongue was Urdu. It was this great wealth and it’s relevant even today.’’
Shah’s Motley Productions will be ready with the play by this May. Enacted by Jameel ur Rehman, Randeep Hooda, Surekha Sikri and yes, even Shah (who will play the pig-headed father in Sankraman), the theme of the monologues is ‘‘family and living in your own world’’.
Theatre, to the actor who has spent 30 years in films, is the beginning of a new journey. It’s bizarre to hear Shah confess before other actors that he can never get onto a stage and spontaneously perform. Or even submerge himself in the abstract. ‘‘The word is my path,’’ he says. Later, he elaborates, ‘‘The words are so clear and beautiful that I just let myself flow. The actor recedes into the background.’’
Even in his films, you can sense that. Shah was in 2003’s Teen Deewarein and is in the just-released Maqbool. The latter had him team up with old co-star and one of the few actors mentioned in the same breath as Shah, Om Puri. The two are Maqbool’s witches of prophecy in the guise of corrupt, comical policemen. ‘‘Om and I had a blast. We spent time together after years; we had drifted apart. I don’t think we’ve worked together since Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro, nearly 22 years ago,’’ Shah smiles. He’s mistaken. The two last worked together as recently as 2001 in the awful Guru Mahaaguru, but maybe, everything else has faded from memory. ‘‘I’m now trying to rope in Om for my play. If he agrees, I’ll step out as the father in Sankraman.’’
Two to Tango
|
|||||
Story continues below this ad |
|||||
Next up is Rajiv Rai’s Asambhav and no, he isn’t playing the baddie (‘‘Rajiv’s given me my only box office hits in Tridev and Mohra’’). Shah is suddenly reluctant to talk about the film he plans to direct, except that it will be an important dream that he will realise in 2004.
His recent film roles have straddled both the commercial and offbeat and Shah is grateful. ‘‘I hope that Vishal (Bharadwaj, Maqbool’s director) doesn’t cast stars in his next film. You can’t be believable with stars—they spend their lives looking synthetic. Amitabh Bachchan can’t be a failed policeman with asthma,’’ he says, with characteristic forthrightness.
That’s vintage Shah. Bursts of borderline arrogance. Then he stresses on how his mind is ‘‘slow’’—why he needs months to rehearse a play. ‘‘I deeply appreciate that people come to see a Naseeruddin Shah play. But if they go away saying that they just saw him and didn’t meet the character, I’ll consider myself a failure. Show-offy actors put me off,’’ he adds.