I find myself at the Smriti Sabha to remember one of the giants of Indian theatre — Badal Sircar. Aside from personal remembrances by many theatre stalwarts, there were also excerpts of a public interview with Satyadev Dubey. Badal babu came across as a simple, passionate man, who seemed to be tired of being labelled merely a “playwright.”

“I am a theatre man,” he boomed. “I started writing plays only so I would have plays to produce!” He explained to the Pune audience, how very few people outside of Bengal know too much about his work as a theatre practitioner, because the archiving of our art is so poor. By its nature it is transient, it exists in the moment. Theatre truly is the Keyser Soze of the arts. One minute it’s there and then “like that, poof. It’s gone”. Only the texts remain.
Everyone talks about Shakespeare, but no one about the actors who brought his characters to life like Richard Burbage or the great comedian Will Kempe for whom Touchstone, Lear’s fool, and many other brilliant characters were created.
So is that the legacy of theatre — words on a page?
While play texts are an important part of the history of a people at a particular time, they do not come close to encapsulating the power of a performance.
The script of Charandas Chor remains, but the vitality of Habib Tanvir’s production only exists in memory. It would be a shame if in 20-30 years time there would be no substantial record of great stage actors like Uttkarsh Mazumdar, Geetanjali Kulkarni or even Adishakti’s Vinay Kumar. How would the next generation know of them, learn from them and be inspired by them? But then, how can one properly archive a work of theatre?
Obviously the video medium allows for the “proof” of existence of a particular production. However, the experience can never quite be the same as the live experience, but at least there is a record.
Photography for me is a more pure recording of a production than video. Although not as complete as its moving counterpart, a photograph has the ability to capture the heightened moments. And a play is nothing but a series of “moments” created for an aesthetic response; similar, in mission statement, to photography. Documentaries are a good record too. But for some reason, in Indian theatre particularly, they are few and far between. Perhaps it is due to the lack of commerce in it, or the lack of no how, or because theatre people are doers, living in the moment; not too bothered about recording their work and practises for posterity. Amol Palekar’s recording of the Badal Sircar’s talk was insightful, illuminating and inspiring. Not to mention introducing those who have never met the great man, like me, to what the man was like as a human being and theatre practitioner. That coupled with the shared insights of stalwarts like Ram Gopal Bajaj (who argued with Badal babu on ideological grounds for theatre), Alyque Padamsee (who only knew him through his words), and many others made for a fascinating summation of the work of a man who has permanently impacted the Indian theatre scene. Fortunately, the organisers had the foresight to record the Smriti Sabha. The insights provided by Badal babu’s contemporaries on his work are now forever archived, and will hopefully introduce future generations to the legacy and genius of the great man.