Fiction Meets Fact:
Naseeruddin and Ratna Pathak Shah are known for their outspoken political views, so it was inevitable that they find new writing to express their concerns.
Ek Dastaan Ek Haqeeqat, as Shah says in his introduction, distills theatre to its essence—a bare stage, words and an actor to speak those words. Using the now popular Dastangoi form, they narrate two very engaging stories that tie into what the country is going through.
The first is the fictional Dastaan-e-Ashok-o-Akbar, narrated by Ratna Pathak Shah, which is not about historical greats but about two men who share their names with emperors. In another time, they would be ordinary citizens; by today’s rigid standards, they are anomalies. The story, as she says, is full of ittefaq (coincidences), which make it funny upto a point, and then uncomfortably dark.
Ashok grew up in Lahore and studied Urdu at Aligarh Muslim University, around the same time as Akbar, who grew up in Varanasi, studied Hindi at the Banaras Hindu University. Both travelled to Bhopal in the same train, to take up teaching positions in the same college. What baffles the staff is that Ashok will teach Urdu, and Akbar, Hindi. The two men live across from each other in the teacher’s colony, and get married on the same day. The communal attitude of others around them do not affect their friendship, and the wives get along too. An unavoidable tragedy makes the two couples accept shared upbringing of a boy they call Azaad.
The country’s Ganga-Jamuni fabric starts fraying and is torn completely after the destruction of the Babri Masjid, and the riots that followed. Azaad, who had grown up to be a perfectly well-adjusted young man, finds that it is no longer possible to be secular.
Along with the story of Azaad’s life and difficult future, Lal has written, and Ratna Pathak Shah, speaks with a steely tone about the faulty legal system that allows perpetrators of crimes to get away, and punishes the innocent. From starting as a Manmohan Desai-ish narrative of impossible ittefaqs, the story reaches this crossroads where communal bias had crept into a society that was perfectly happy and willing to embrace all faiths.
If this story is distressing then the next Dastaan-e-Bhanwar, recounted by Naseeruddin Shah, is relentlessly bleak—reminding audiences of the suffering and indomitable bravery of Rajasthan’s Bhanwari Devi. The lower caste community worker (saathin) was punished for trying to stop child marriage in a high caste family. She was attacked by five man and raped by two, as her husband, Mohanlal, was beaten senseless. At the cost of ostracism and the threat of further violence, she decided to fight and her husband stood by her. As expected, the court acquitted the rapists. However, she was supported by women’s groups and activists, who took up her fight. Her ordeal and the injustice she endured, led to the Bishaka Guidelines and eventually the Prevention of Sexual Harassment Act of 2013, to help women facing workplace sexual abuse. Bhanwari Devi is now ailing and at the end of the tether, but also proud that her fight might not have helped her, but she paved the way for other women, particularly those from marginalised communities.
Both stories are powerful reflections of our society, and who better to hold up the mirror than the two actors, who are among the few in the film industry who are not afraid to speak up and take an anti-establishment stance when needed. Both have clear voices, flawless Urdu (a foreign language as Shah sarcastically says) diction, and are able to command the stage and address an audience that is willing to listen to the truths about people – a fictional Azaad and a real Bhanwari– who have the courage of their convictions.
(This piece first appeared in mumbaitheatreguide.com)