Brecht in India: The Poetics and Politics of Transcultural Theatre 2020025082, 2020025083, 9780367466749, 9781003030317

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Brecht in India

Brecht in India analyses the dramaturgy and theatrical practices of the German playwright Bertolt Brecht in post-independence India. The book explores how post-independence Indian drama is an instance of a cultural palimpsest, a site celebrating a dialogue between Western and Indian theatrical traditions, rather than a homogenous and isolated canon. Analysing the dissemination of a selection of Brecht’s plays in the Hindi belt between the 1960s and the 1990s, this study demonstrates that Brecht’s work provided aesthetic and ideological paradigms to modern Hindi playwrights, helping them develop and stage a national identity. The book also traces how the reception of Brecht was mediated in India, how it helped postindependence Indian playwrights formulate a political theatre and how the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India addressed the anxiety related to the stasis in Brechtian theatre in Europe. Tracking the dialogue between Brechtian aesthetics in India and Europe and a history of deliberate cultural resistance, Brecht in India is an invaluable resource for academics and students of theatre studies and theatre historiography, as well as scholars of post-colonial history and literature. Dr. Prateek is a former post-thesis fellow at the University of Queensland, Australia and currently works as an Assistant Professor in the Faculty of English Studies, SRM University, Andhra Pradesh, India. He received a PhD in theatre studies from the University of Queensland, Australia. He was a visiting PhD scholar at Humboldt University and the University of Oxford. He is also a former Fulbright at Yale University.

Brecht in India The Poetics and Politics of Transcultural Theatre

Dr. Prateek

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Prateek The right of Prateek to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Prateek, 1982– author. Title: Brecht in India : the poetics and politics of transcultural theatre / Dr. Prateek. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York : Routledge, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020025082 (print) | LCCN 2020025083 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367466749 (hardback) | ISBN 9781003030317 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Brecht, Bertolt, 1898–1956—Appreciation— India. | Brecht, Bertolt, 1898–1956—Inf luence. | Theater—India— History—20th century. | Postcolonialism and theater. Classification: LCC PT2603.R397 Z797 2021 (print) | LCC PT2603.R397 (ebook) | DDC 832/.912—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020025082 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020025083 ISBN: 978-0-367-46674-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-03031-7 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by codeMantra

This book is dedicated to my amma dadi (grandmother), Parvati Pandey

Contents

Acknowledgements Introduction: Brechtian theatre: a transcultural dialogue Reconfiguring Brechtian theatre in India 3 Situating Brecht in India 8 Outline of the chapters 14 1

Towards a definition of Brechtian theatre in India Modern Indian theatre: an overview 31 The Brechtian theatre: an overview 37 Brechtian theatre in India: a definition 43

2

Performing Brecht on the Indian stage: towards a national theatre Agra Bazaar and subversive Indian theatre 68 Sufaid Kundali and the project of recovery 74

3

Politicising Brecht: a study of Fritz Bennewitz’s theatre Political theatre in India and Brecht 92 Gestus and Bennewitz’s production 96

4

Regionalising Brecht in India Constructing Indian aesthetics 118 Towards a people’s theatre 127

5

The bends versus ends of Brechtian theatre: a study of the theatre of Safdar Hashmi and Amal Allana The bend of new street theatre 143 The bend of post-Brechtian aesthetics 153

Conclusion: a re-reading

Index

ix 1

28

64

90

111

137

175

183

Acknowledgements

This research was supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship. I am grateful to the School of Communication and Arts at the University of Queensland (UQ) for first having faith in my project and second, funding it with the International Postgraduate Research Scholarship, the UQ Centennial scholarship and the Graduate School International Travel Award. I must convey my deepest gratitude to two of the best advisers of all time – Prof Joanne Tompkins (PhD supervisor) and Prof Makarand Paranjape (MPhil supervisor). I am also thankful to other advisers who helped me shape my project with discussions and feedback, which was a time before coronavirus when discussions used to be in person: Dr Bernadette Cochrane at UQ, Dr Angelos Koutsourakis at UQ, Dr Tom Kuhn at the University of Oxford and Prof Erdmut Wizisla at Humboldt University. No book exists in solitary vacuum and for it to prosper the researcher must interact with the larger academic community. I must thank some of the members of this larger academic community who left a lasting impression on me and my book. First, I am thankful to Prof Jane Stadler at the University of Queensland and Dr Maggie Charles at the University of Oxford for teaching me the nuances of academic writing. I am also thankful to Prof Rolf Rohmer (chief archivist at the Bennewitz Archive in Leipzig); Prof Marc Silberman for discussing Brecht with me at the University of Oxford; Rajiv Thind for our weekly literary discussion over a cup of Flat White; Sushma Griffin for her moral and intellectual support; Kendra Marston and Ariel Bardi for providing guidance and Sarah Thomasson for reading my conclusion. I am also thankful to some theatre scholars, who guided me throughout my research: M.S. Sathyu, Shama Zaidi, Moloyashree Hashmi, Sudhanva Deshpande and Nageen Tanvir. To crown all, I am deeply indebted to Priyanka for providing unconditional love and expert comments on my drafts. I have realised that the task of writing a PhD can become more daunting if one is an international student. I am grateful to Angela Tuohy and Jennifer Yared for answering innumerable questions about UQ, in general, and administration, in particular. I am also thankful to friends who embraced me with open arms in Australia and inspired me to research. Some of these friends are: Angela Tuohy, Jennifer Yared, Yasuyo (thank you for keeping me

x Acknowledgements

sane), Jessica Hughes (now Mai), Emily Zong, Lauren Clayton, Amit Sarwal, Wilson Koh, Abbie Trott, Jami Acworth (my cultural adviser), Merlin Morris, Karin Borges, Kirril Shields, Marie Morrison, James White, Paula White and Noel Wildman (and his three-legged dog, Roxy). I am also thankful to Florian and Ankita who provided me resources and helped in translation during my stay in Germany in their beautiful home. I am also thankful to Prof Christel Devadawson and Christina for being an excellent literature professor and German teacher respectively. I am also thankful to my family in India especially to my amma dadi (granny), my parents, my two aunts, Rita and Prabha, chacha, late uncle and my brother, Ankit and my two sisters, Aishwarya and Nandita and their family who always believed in me. Additionally, I am also indebted to my Indian friends especially Shad Naved for teaching me dadirri (deep listening). I am grateful to five writers whom I never met in person, but whose works made me go on. Zadie Smith, Habib Tanvir and Safdar Hashmi made me see the shades of colour and the alchemy of pain. David Forster Wallace illustrated how word after a word is not only power but also a spiritual experience that changes you for good. Jorge Luis Borges, especially his short story, “Kaf ka and his Precursors,” gave me an insight into how writing is a self-effacing act as the writer loses his unified self and becomes a vessel articulating multiple inf luences. I am thankful to Bloomsbury, Norton, Brecht Yearbook, Jana Natya Manch and Seagull books for generously giving me permission to reprint. Simultaneously, I am grateful to the Brecht Archive, Berlin; the Bennewitz Archive, Leipzig; the University of Queensland library, Australia and the Sahitya Academy, India. I am also indebted to my wonderful Routledge team, Laura Hussey, Swati Hindwan and Lucia Accorsi. With their help, this book became possible! Finally, I must register my sincere apology and a note of thanks to all the people whom I could not mention here. To all of you: I am thankful from the deepest core of my heart. In the process of analysing Brecht’s colourful journey in India, sometimes I had to choose one production over the other. I sincerely apologise to all those directors whose work I could not choose. Hope you can forgive me!

Introduction Brechtian theatre: a transcultural dialogue

The laughter Was echoing still, when, from the darkest corner Came a cry: “Hey you, do they know Your verses by heart? And those who know them Will they prevail and escape persecution?” – “Those Are the forgotten ones,” Dante said quietly “In their case, not only their bodies, their works too were destroyed.” The laughter broke off. No one dared look over. The newcomer Had turned pale. (Brecht, “Visit to the Banished Poets,” Collected Poems, 681–682; emphasis added) This book examines Bertolt Brecht’s inf luence on Indian theatre. One of the most established instances of scholarly engagement with the discourse of inf luence in the West is Harold Bloom’s Anxiety of Influence. Bloom’s conceptualisation follows a model where the inf luence that comes from the hierarchical stars descends to something lower.1 As Bloom cogently puts it, the “f lowing from the stars upon our fates and our personalities is the prime meaning of inf luence” (xii). This downward movement from the higher to the lower affirms inf luence as a challenge to the uniqueness of the inf luenced, both in retaliation and submission: the inf luenced is in a subservient position of power. If Bloom’s 1973 approach gave the power to the inf luencer, then Bharat Bhushan Agarwal, in his 1971 doctoral thesis, Hindi Upanyas par Paschatya Prabhav (Western Influence on the Indian Novel), offered it to the inf luenced. Analysing a dozen Hindi novelists who wrote after the death of Premchand, arguably the greatest Hindi prose writer, in 1936, Agarwal offers four characteristic features of prabhav (the most common Hindi word for inf luence): reaction (both positive and negative), partial (not whole), optional (not obligatory) and transitory (not permanent) (66–68; I use Trivedi’s translation, “Colonial Inf luence” 128). These characteristics cited by Agarwal grant the inf luenced a free will that allows them to break free from a subjugated position of inf luence. Written at the time when the new Indian nation was itself

2  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

seeking an independent and unique voice, this reading of inf luence collaborated to the larger project of seeing inf luence as “a palpably postcolonial strategy” to resist the continued dominance of the West on Indian literature (Trivedi, “Colonial Inf luence” 128). Despite being a postcolonial strategy, Agarwal’s perspective remained bound to the hierarchical model, which promoted the “first in the West then elsewhere” approach (Chakrabarty, Provincializing 6), demonstrating how the formation of Indian writers was a direct response to the Western canon. My reading of inf luence goes beyond the theatre of binaries, which places the European work as the centre of action, and the postcolonial adaptation as an instance of mere reaction or piracy.2 Rather than reading inf luence within the temporal frame of European modernity, where it is a moment of rupture emphasising the significance of origins and hierarchies, I see it as a moment highlighting alternative – both parallel and native – constellations of a given construct. By highlighting these parallel and indigenous formations, inf luence challenges the purity and originality of a given construct and articulates what Homi Bhabha calls hybridity. As Bhabha writes, “Hybridity is the revaluation of the assumption of colonial identity through the repetition of discriminatory identity effects. It displays the necessary deformation and displacement of all sites of discrimination and domination” (The Location 159). In its hybridised state, the discourse of inf luence re-evaluates and questions authoritative images and presences. By blurring the line between dominant and the peripheral versions of a given construct, inf luence defies “epistemic violence” (Spivak 280) or the marginalisation of certain voices. Working alongside these imbricated narratives of inf luence and resistance, I examine how the dramaturgy and theatrical practices of the German playwright Bertolt Brecht have been employed in postcolonial Indian theatre. I analyse the dissemination of a selection of Brecht’s plays in India between the 1960s and the 1990s and argue that his work provided aesthetic and ideological paradigms to modern Hindi playwrights, helping them in nation building and to stage identity formation. In other words, I trace how the reception of Brecht was mediated in India, and how this reception helped post-independence Indian playwrights in formulating a political theatre using either poetics or content or both. At the outset, I must point out two aspects of my book. First, by “India,” I refer to the Hindi belt, which is “considered to extend across North India from Rajasthan to Bihar” (Shackle and Snell 4). Second, while Brecht’s practice is extensive, it is not possible to focus on all aspects of his work in this book. I have, therefore, selected some of the more well-known aspects, which have also been pertinent to the Indian context. I re-examine the history of postcolonial Indian theatre in analysing adaptations of Brecht’s plays and demonstrate how their dissemination was instrumental in further diversifying Indian theatre and in nurturing it with more ways of articulating resistance to hegemonic power. This investigation of Brecht in India tracks the dialogue between Brechtian aesthetics in India and Europe while underscoring the different meanings of disseminated

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  3

constructs in India in relation to their original meanings, and a history of deliberate manipulation in this articulation. This means that Indian theatre directors understood the limitations of Brecht’s plays in the Indian context and consciously reworked them to make the plays a political force. Brechtian theatre in India in its transformed state opened up new avenues for its European counterpart 3 and showed that “cultural inf luence circulates, rather than moves in a straight line ‘downward’ from the dominant to the dominated” (Ashcroft, On Postcolonial Futures 1). In this reworked state, the adjective “Brechtian” in India refers to more than the legacy of Brecht and is also more significant than Brecht as a noun, which presents Brechtian theatre as one man’s discovery. To demonstrate the uniqueness of Brechtian productions in India, I use “Brechtian,” where the term stands for two interconnected and inseparable aspects: a wide array of self-ref lexive devices that draws our attention to “how” something happens rather than “what” happens on the stage, and the production of a play where audiences are turned into active producers, as they are made to ref lect on the given situation and draw conclusions from it. The Brechtian style of production highlights the social and economic forces that shape people and their gestures – contrary to naturalistic theatre where they remain hidden – and thus encourages the audience to defy the status quo. The first section of my introduction, “Reconfiguring Brechtian theatre in India,” presents the aims and scope of this transcultural dialogue between Brecht and India. I argue that the active reshaping of Brechtian aesthetics by Indian theatre directors changed its character and turned it into a “pharmakon.” Jacques Derrida draws our attention to the meaning of pharmakon as a paradox when he analyses Plato’s Phaedrus.4 I define the term pharmakon in detail in the second section, “Situating Brecht in India.” I also contend that the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre in the Hindi belt has remained mostly unarticulated. In the first half of this section, I reinforce the under-analysed nature of this dialogue with Brecht in the Hindi belt by engaging with primary and secondary literature on Brechtian theatre in India. Having highlighted the gap in existing literature, in the second half, I articulate my rationale and methodology to fill this gap in Brechtian scholarship. In the last section, “Outline of the chapters,” I offer the structure of my book, demonstrating how it problematises the idea of inf luence.

Reconfiguring Brechtian theatre in India The word pharmakon is, by definition, a paradox: a resistance to one meaning principle. I value the term precisely for its spirit of resistance which Amartya Sen calls “the argumentative tradition” of India (6).5 Derrida teases out at least two of the many semantic variations of the term (remedy and poison) while discussing Plato’s use of it in Phaedrus and presents the pharmakon as a site of différance, whose meaning keeps differing and deferring without getting reduced to an essence. Derrida remarks that “the ‘essence’ of the pharmakon lies in the way in which, having no stable essence, no ‘proper’ characteristics,

4  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

it is not, in any sense (metaphysical, physical, chemical, alchemical) of the word, a substance” (Dissemination 125–126). Brechtian theatre in India could well be seen as a re-articulation of this différance as it continues to differ and defer in meaning not only from its European counterpart, but also from an ossified and absolute Indian version of Brechtian theatre. My book thus explores many variants of Brechtian theatre in India rather than presenting one absolute Indian notion of Brechtian theatre. Rather than seeing its pharmakonic character as a passive gesture of uncertainty, I argue that it is both an active political strategy, designed to counteract the “reek of essentialism” of Brechtian theatre (to borrow a phrase from Gyan Prakash, “Writing” 383), and also a search for a dialectical space. In conveying deliberately ambivalent meanings, Brechtian theatre in India subverts the absoluteness of its European counterpart and asserts its own identity. Moreover, it foregrounds a struggle for space: space for dialogue and space for active creation. My project is to systematically study these shades of meaning while assessing how the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics answers the following question: has the circulation of Brechtian theatre been a Western “poison,” contaminating the authentic growth of post-independence Indian theatre, or has it been a “remedy,” helping Indian theatre to formulate a revolutionary political aesthetics? I also answer the question of whether the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India has allowed Brechtian aesthetics to conquer its own narrative of anxiety by giving it space to f lourish. The act of “turning pale,” as illustrated in the epigraph to this introduction is often entwined with this narrative of anxiety. Anxiety, here, is both the outcome of a political poet’s fear of oblivion amidst the political turmoil of the Nazi era, and, it is the result of the dialectics of change, being forgotten by the people. When Brechtian aesthetics were adopted by Indian theatre directors, both of these fears were conquered. The use of Brechtian aesthetics by the directors overcame the anxiety resulting from the nexus between amnesia and oblivion, while the diversity of presentation – historical, cultural and linguistic – along with a focus on dialectics conquered the angst in relation to a perceived stasis in Brechtian aesthetics. My study, therefore, analyses not only how Brechtian aesthetics helped Indian theatre but also how its dissemination in India kept it inf luential and dynamic. Within the orbit of Brechtian aesthetics, my research highlights how global and local theatrical traditions mutually “cannibalize[d]” one another, to use Arjun Appadurai’s phrase (43). I provide an overview of Brechtian theatre by first outlining its major concepts in Europe in order to demonstrate how Brechtian theatre in India reworks and rethinks some of these features for diverse purposes. Clearly, the book does not attempt to provide an exhaustive study of Brechtian theatre.6 Although I engage with many works of Brecht, my argument has focused primarily on his essays published in Brecht on Theatre and Brecht on Performance. Some of these essays are “The Street Scene” (1940), and “The Short Organon7 for the Theatre” (1949). I choose these texts because they provide a compact

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  5

history of Brecht’s theories from their initial formulation to Brecht’s death in 1956. Let me also underline that I use the phrase Brechtian theatre as an all-encompassing phrase which assimilates all terms used by Brecht to define his new theatre, some of which are “non-Aristotelian,” “epic,” “dialectical,” “gestic” and “theatre of the scientific age.” By putting these terms under the rubric of Brechtian theatre, I point to the widely established practice among Indian practitioners of seeing them as interchangeable. This practice was likely the result of emphasising different aspects of Brechtian theatre throughout different decades. For instance, in the early years, Brecht’s poetics were hailed as more important to his politics, as they were used by the nativist to legitimise Indian performance traditions. Since the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre becomes visible only when we examine the site of inf luence, the discourse of inf luence is central to my study, although I am using it differently than others. Within the context of Brechtian theatre, inf luence is a space that highlights the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre by celebrating its multiple variants. This means that the discourse of inf luence challenges any attempt to construct an absolute and universal voice. To highlight how inf luence remains a site accentuating the ambivalence of Brechtian theatre, I define inf luence using the methodology suggested by both Michael Baxandall and Mary Orr, according to which, inf luence is not an act “on” but “for” (Orr 83). This methodology suggests an approach where inf luence answers the question: what do we need inf luence for? Reading it in this way, inf luence is a deliberate and unique activity, which offers us “the vocabulary [which] is much richer and attractively diversified: draw on, resort to, avail oneself of, appropriate from, have recourse to, adapt, misunderstand, refer to, pick up, take on, engage with…” (Baxandall, cited in Orr 83–84). Following this methodology, I argue that the history of inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics on Indian theatre is simultaneously a history of non-conformity since Brechtian theatre in India is used for purposes that differ from its previous uses in the West. Brechtian practitioners in India constructed a discourse around the diverse uses of Brechtian aesthetics rather than staging either a mirror image of its European counterpart or retaliation against it. These heterogeneous uses of Brechtian theatre in India created an alternative discourse rather than a marginal discourse of Brechtian theatre in Europe. The distinctiveness of the Indian use of Brechtian aesthetics offers uniqueness to Brechtian theatre in India and resists any attempt to see the Indian variant as subordinate to the European variant. I further contend that inf luence is a site of appropriation and questioning. First, inf luence is a site providing an active process of appropriation of what Marx calls Vertretung, or representation that is acquired by stepping into someone else’s shoes (cited in Spivak 276). Since Vertretung is already an act of reinterpretation, as it is clear from Gayatri Spivak’s analysis of it as “proxy” or “substitution” (276), I read inf luence as a double act of re-interpretation, expounding on the partial and biased nature of the politics of representation as reinterpretation. I demonstrate how Indian theatre directors succeeded in developing their

6  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

own consciousness of Brechtian aesthetics rather than letting the universal category of Brechtian theatre speak for them or define them. Thus, the study aims to go beyond the politics of Vertretung by reading inf luence as an act of resistance rather than an act of surrender. I explore this facet of inf luence by demonstrating how theatrical directors in India, far from slavishly inf luenced by Brechtian aesthetics, appropriated them to speak “for” and “to” the people. Against the backdrop of this meaning of inf luence, I present the emergence of Brechtian theatre in India as a unique f lowering of creativity rather than a mere imitation of Brecht’s ideas. This f lowering was the result of the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics, but to see this dissemination as the only factor behind this emergence is incorrect, as Indian director M.S. Sathyu clarifies: Brecht “is inspired by our theatre: Oriental theatre. We [Indians] are not inspired by his theatre” (Sathyu, Personal Interview 11 Dec. 2015). Although Sathyu refuses to acknowledge the importance of Brechtian aesthetics to Indian theatre, he does pay due credit to Indian performance traditions for their contributions to Brechtian aesthetics. The study thus highlights the contribution of India’s own theatrical traditions – classical as well as folk – in the formation of Brechtian aesthetics in India and argues that Brechtian theatre in India has predecessors and true successors. If in its first meaning, “inf luence” is a conscious act of appropriation, then in its second interpretation it questions the idea of representation as portrait, or what Marx calls as Darstellung (cited in Spivak 277). Interestingly, the portrait of Brechtian theatre in India does not resemble its European counterpart mimetically but falls in accordance with what Foucault calls “similarity,”8 a construct that contests the idea of origins and hierarchies. Elucidating on the relationship between resemblance and similarity, Foucault writes: [r]esemblance presupposes a primary reference that prescribes and classes. The similar develops in series that have neither beginning nor end, that can be followed in one direction as easily as in another, that obey no hierarchy, but propagate themselves from small differences among small differences. Resemblance serves representation, which rules over it; similitude serves repetition, which ranges across it. (This is Not a Pipe 44) It was this free play of interpretation rather than the re-presentation of the old that allowed the Indian variant to be politically relevant while engaging with the social and cultural contexts of target audiences. Inf luence, in this second semantic variation, hints at the unconscious role of socio-political and theatrical registers in India in bestowing upon Brechtian theatre this politics of similarity. By demonstrating this emergence as an active instance of Foucauldian “similarity” – in opposition to resemblance – that keeps into account the socio-political registers of India, this book presents inf luence as the defining act of interrogation in the politics of representation. It exorcises the ghost of the authoritative voice that seems to be at the heart of the

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  7

narrative of Brechtian theatre as a universal category. It is necessary to read Brechtian theatre beyond the authoritative voice of Brecht in order to keep the Brechtian quality of the text alive. Brecht’s entire oeuvre insists that to be Brechtian is to challenge the playwright and director Brecht. In other words, the project sees Brechtian theatre as a space highlighting Barthes’ “death of the author” (Image 142) and thus frees the site from the author’s ideological hauntings. More importantly, it demonstrates how Brechtian theatre is more than the sum of Brecht’s own ideas, thus expanding the purview of Brechtian scholarship. The dissemination of Brecht in India was also significant because it created new sites of resistance. To create these sites, Indian playwrights often forged an alliance between working classes and other exploited groups to fight against the absolutist discourses of the State and its ruling classes. Although these Brechtian pockets of resistance resembled their previous Hindi counterparts in their political nature as being anti-state, they differed in their modes of representation. The dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India initiated a new non-mimetic means of representation known as Gestic realism. This new form of representation emerged because the old method of directly representing the outside reality no longer worked in postcolonial India, where human relations had become reified. My study demonstrates how, under the aegis of Indian People’s Theatre Association, or IPTA – the cultural front of the Indian Communist Party active from 1943 in several regions in India, which promoted cross-pollination between the East and the West – Hindi playwrights learned how to question the extremely traditional orientation of Hindi theatre and engage with Brechtian aesthetics. The effects of Brechtian aesthetics in India multiplied not only through proscenium theatre but also through nukkad natak or street theatre. Nukkad natak “is basically a militant political theater of protest. Its function is to agitate the people and to mobilize them behind fighting organizations” (Hashmi, “The First Ten” 13). Analysing the role of IPTA and nukkad natak in detail, I demonstrate how some of these theatrical sites present not only the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics but also an escape from it – that is, the beginning of post-Brechtian aesthetics. The “dissemination” of Brechtian aesthetics operates by unleashing a peripheral discourse (Indian variants of Brechtian theatre that are both metropolitan and provincial) that challenges the universality and absoluteness of a mainstream European narrative. I use the term “periphery” as an alternative system of production that challenges the epistemic privilege of mainstream models (whether Western or urban India). Against this backdrop, the term “to disseminate” refers to the process of embedding the Eurocentric discourse within a particular historical and political context of India – the peripheralising of the mainstream – to create pockets of resistance. I read “dissemination” in the context of Bhabha’s interpretation of it as a play of double negatives – “dis” and “semi” – that undercuts the “nation.” To underline this political wordplay, Bhabha calls it “dissemiNation” (“DissemiNation” 291). I read the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India against the backdrop

8  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

of the discourse of nationalism, and how it challenges or establishes this discourse. In this regard, Brechtian theatre in India presents a double critique of capitalism and the inability of the postcolonial nation-state to provide basic necessities to its people. Let me first clarify two things before I contextualise the existing scholarship on Brecht in India. The very notion of Brechtian theatre is larger than what Brecht wrote and thought and should not be understood so selectively and restrictively. Drawing upon the insights of postcolonial scholar Dipesh Chakrabarty, I propose to “provincialise” Brechtian theatre, that is, to theorise how Brechtian theatre is a product of “particular” intellectual and historical traditions, rather than a “universal” category that is resistant to particular ­histories.9 Throughout my investigation, I see the “universal” as a highly unstable category, and thus explore Brechtian theatre as a “concept” rather than a self-evident object. Not surprisingly, Brechtian theatre in India is not a mirror image of its German counterpart. Brecht never wrote either about India10 or in India, and even when his works were adapted within India something was necessarily transformed, challenged, re-inf lected and rethought. Brechtian theatre was not only the result of change in intellectual and historical traditions but also the consequence of deliberate, consciously made directorial choices that provided agency to Indian theatre directors. These conscious choices should be considered active (as opposed to the passive changes that occurred due to geographical and cultural factors), and they contributed to modifying the concept of Brechtian theatre in India. Besides artistic choices, the different cultural and historical context of India also contributed to certain modifications. In other words, the construction of Brechtian theatre in India was not only the result of one inf luence – that is, of Brechtian aesthetics – but of multiple inf luences, such as that of Indian performance practices and the political and social conditions of India. These actants became instrumental in precipitating what Lucretius called “swerve,” or “an unexpected, unpredictable movement of matter” (cited in Greenblatt 7). In other words, they helped in reformulating Brechtian theatre in the Indian context and in highlighting the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. Lucretius’ account of swerve emphasises, as Martin F. Smith explains it, “that the supposition of the swerve was made not only to explain how compound bodies can be formed, but also to account for free will” (xxvi). I employ this account of swerve in the Brechtian context to explain how Brechtian theatre in India is more than the site of derivation and passive inf luence; it is a site of innovation and free will.

Situating Brecht in India11 It is astonishing how neglected Brecht’s role in redefining modern Hindi theatre has been, attributed to two factors. The burgeoning interest in nationalism after the 1947 independence discouraged promotion of political

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  9

theatre in India. The effect of this was clearly evident in Hindi language theatre. Nandi Bhatia underlined this policy of discouragement in her study of Indian Theatre People’s Association: “at a time of nation building in the life of the newly independent nation, all cultural productions that appeared to be subversive or political were obliterated from state-controlled university curricula and various government-funded cultural organisations” (Acts of Authority 92). India’s independence heightened interest in pre-colonial and folk traditions, encouraged by grants from the Ford Foundation. According to Sudhanva Deshpande, one of the leading theatre critics in India, the Ford foundation played an important role in the “deradicalisation of Brecht” by supporting folk theatre (“What is to be Undone?” 26). By funding the study of folk theatre in India, the Ford Foundation challenged the dissemination of Brecht as a political writer, since he was considered a communist during the Cold War. Despite these challenges, a few scholarly attempts have been made to examine Brecht’s role in shaping the dramatic discourses of post-independence Hindi playwrights.12 However, most of these attempts highlighted Brecht’s connection with Indian classical drama rather than his theatre’s political character. A case in point is Lothar Lutze’s lecture on “Indian Classical Drama in the Light of Bertolt Brecht’s Dramatic Theory and Practice” in 1961, published later in the year 1962, which likely opened this field of inquiry. The article emphasises the contribution of Indian classical drama to Brecht’s theatre. Skilfully, Lutze brings to the fore Brecht’s fascination with classical Indian drama by drawing attention to Brecht’s “Song of the Playwright,” where Brecht states that Indians are “masters of beautiful sentiments” (“Indian Classical” 35). Lutze argues that Brecht probably utilised two elements from Indian classical drama: a b

Indian classical drama is anti-illusionistic and conducive to alienation, because it is (i) largely epical and descriptive and (ii) artistic and audience-conscious in its composition; Its humanity becomes evident, above all, in its combination of realism and serenity (“Indian Classical” 36).

It is clear from this article that in its initial phase, Brechtian experiments with political theatre in India were sidelined while the presumable contribution of Indian classical drama to Brecht’s theatre was stressed.13 I see this emphasis on nationalist theatrical roots over Brecht’s politics as a repercussion of Brecht’s dissemination in India during the Cold War period when “national ideologies” (Davidann and Gilbert 9) were emphasised. Although India remained non-aligned to the two camps – the United States and the Soviet Union – the Cold War was significant in encouraging the discourse of nationalism in India. The article demonstrates how Brechtian aesthetics were initially employed along nationalist lines to legitimise Indian theatrical practices of pre-colonial times.

10  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

The earliest attempt to highlight the political nature of Brecht’s theatre was probably in the January–February 1963 issue of Hindustani Theatre: A Monthly Journal of the Arts, published by the Hindustani Theatre.14 This issue was both the first of the journal and a special issue on Brecht. It was published before the production of Sufaid Kundali (The Caucasian Chalk Circle, 1963), the first production of Brecht in Hindi, to provide some clarity on Brecht’s theatre and theories.15 The year 1968 was a watershed in Brechtian scholarship. Ebrahim Alkazi contextualised the usefulness of Brecht and his strategies to create a politically sensitive theatre in India, averring in his “Brecht Dialog” of 1968 speech that he believed that “Lenin, Brecht and Gandhi will go down in history as the three greatest personalities of the twentieth century” (246). Finally, he presented both Gandhi and Brecht as the champions of “brotherhood and humanity” (247). Impressed by the aim of Brechtian theatre to address larger socio-political issues, Alkazi ensured that Indian theatre engage with Brechtian theatre by inviting German directors Carl Weber and Fritz Bennewitz to India. Alkazi’s invitations were pivotal in paving the way for Brechtian scholarship in India. Brechtian aesthetics were further promoted by the emergence of Indian theatre journals in the late 1960s along with two issues particularly dedicated to Brecht in 1968.16 These issues were published by Enact and Natarang. The English journal Enact, published between 1967 and 1983, provided a timely intervention on the role of Brecht in India. In addition to the critical reviews of a number of Brechtian productions in India, it also published commentaries on Brecht by various Indian theatre directors. Its issue on Brecht in 1968 was crucial in emphasising the significance of Brecht in India. The most significant article in this issue was “Brecht for One Producer” by the Indian playwright and theatre director Habib Tanvir, where Tanvir articulates his idea of Brechtian: “[a]bove all, Brecht teaches you to be yourself. It is a paradox, therefore, that if the Indian playwrights evolve a truly indigenous theatre, it will be a truly Brechtian theatre as well” (n. pag.). Rather than attempting to theorise Brechtian aesthetics, this article was the first clear statement for adapting Brecht. Natarang, the journal in Hindi, published a dedicated issue on Brecht in 1968 in light of Carl Weber’s visit to India and his 1968 production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle with the students of the National School of Drama (NSD). The issue, featuring views of theorists as well as practitioners such as Tanvir, Alkazi, Weber, Sheila Bhatia and M.K. Raina, is very important to this study because it maps multiple ref lections on Brechtian theatre and its utility in the Indian context. If Alkazi used his position as a director at the NSD to disseminate Brechtian aesthetics by inviting Brechtian directors to India, then Balwant Gargi, the Indian playwright, used his first-hand knowledge of Brecht’s plays to introduce a methodology through which to produce Brecht in India. According to this methodology, Brecht can be produced correctly in India if Indians pay attention to their own theatre, which is different from the verbal theatre of the West. Gargi emphasises that “Indian tradition emphasizes body, rhythms,

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  11

and gestures which are distilled from life” (cited in Ortiz 5). He further adds that “[o]ur actors and actresses know 36 types of glances and nine basic emotions like primary colors which are mixed to create any complex emotion or color” (5). Interestingly, Gargi met Brecht in person during the rehearsals of The Caucasian Chalk Circle in 1955 and their conversation helped Gargi to understand the nuances of Brechtian aesthetics and Indian theatre traditions. Gargi’s “The Caucasian Chalk Circle: From Three Angles,” published in The Times of India, compared the National School of Drama’s production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle (herewith Caucasian) with two other versions: Brecht’s own adaptation of Caucasian and New York’s production of Caucasian by Herbert Blau. The comparative structure of the article is helpful in examining some indigenous theatrical forms such as Nautanki and how they can be employed to transform a play into a Brechtian production. To understand the emergence of Brecht and his aesthetics in postindependence India, my book extends Dharwadker’s model in Theatres of Independence: Drama, Theory and Urban Performance in India Since 1947. Although she does not specifically focus on Brecht’s inf luence on Hindi playwrights, she provides a useful model through which to understand the inner dynamics and structure of Hindi theatre. Dharwadker’s model allows us to see how Brechtian practitioners in India used the discourse of inf luence – that is, to what end they used this inf luence. She argues that when modern Indian theatre appeared, it “borrowed its organizational structures, textual features, and performance conventions from Europe (especially England), superseded traditional and popular indigenous performance genres and found its core audience among the growing English-educated Indian middle class” (Theatres of Independence 3). But in practice, the new form was assimilated into many longstanding theatrical traditions in many indigenous languages, such as Hindi and Marathi. The inf luence of Western textual models produced “a body of new ‘literary’ drama and dramatic theory in several Indian languages” (Theatres of Independence 3) and produced the first nationalist arguments about the cultural importance of a national theatre in India. She contends that Indian post-colonial theatre “is not a seamless extension of either colonial or pre-colonial traditions but a product of new theoretical, textual, material, institutional, and cultural conditions created by the experience of political independence, cultural autonomy, and new nationhood” (Theatres of Independence 2). I begin with Dharwadker’s premise and demonstrate how Brechtian theatre in India contributes to it. The title of my book further hints at my research methodology. “Brecht in India” studies the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India and how this dissemination inf luences the poetics and politics of both Indian and Brechtian theatre. By showing the manifold and unique uses of Brechtian theatre in India, the site of inf luence highlights the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. As mentioned above, by “India” I refer to the Hindi belt, where the inf luence of Brechtian theatre has been under-analysed. The word “transcultural” has been strategically placed in the subtitle to highlight the Indianness of Brechtian theatre along with the

12  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

Brechtian-ness of Indian theatre. Following Dharwadker’s argument in Theatres of Independence, I call the translation of Brechtian plays in Hindi a rupantar or transcultural adaptation rather than interlingual translation or translation proper (“On Linguistic” 261), as defined by Roman Jakobson. Dharwadker calls the new text an adaptation because it changes from the old texts on two levels: first, in terms of the language and second, in terms of the cultural codes. Since the new text “is the product of a process of transculturation that carries a text across from one historical-cultural register to another and assimilates canonical Western and Indian texts to the modern Indian languages and contemporary experience” (Dharwadker, Theatres of Independence 358–359), it can fittingly be described as transcultural adaptation. Dharwadker reminds us that transcultural adaptation is very similar to what we term in Hindi as rupantar, “a systemic ‘transformation’ that changes the ‘appearance’ of the original, so that it does not seem alien or alienating in the target language” (Theatres of Independence 359). Since I read the Indian production of Brecht’s plays as an instance of rupantar or transcultural adaptation, it is necessary to underline my usage of the term “adaptation” in the book. Rather than presenting this relation with adaptation through the recognised trope of “resemblance,” I argue that, in the Indian context, this relation is of what Foucault calls similarity (This is Not a Pipe 44). Building on this idea of similarity within the ambit of transcultural theatre, I propose that the adaptation of Brechtian theatre in India was carried out through a repetition which is “less than one and double,” to borrow a phrase from Bhabha (The Location 139). Bhabha used this phrase to indicate the spread of knowledge disseminated by the British in colonial India, and how this knowledge was articulated “syntagmatically with a range of differential knowledges and positionalities that both estrange its ‘identity’ and produce new forms of knowledge, new modes of differentiation, new sites of power” (The Location 171). More poetically, these positionalities can be considered as “the magic fountain,”17 to borrow from Ngugi wa Thiong’o (“Europhonism” 7) from which Brechtian theatre in India draws and which positions it against the idea of Brechtian theatre as a totality with fixed ideals and belief systems. I argue that Bhabha’s model of the dissemination of knowledge can be extended to understand the dynamics of the adaptation of Brechtian aesthetics in India. In proximity to this model of adaptation, I demonstrate how differential knowledges and positionalities present in the Indian subcontinent transformed Brechtian theatre and gave rise to the Indian variant(s). Significantly, it is a study in the “active” politics of negotiation – that is, how traditions in India transform the universally accepted notion of Brechtian theatre – rather than passively submit to it. To present this spirited encounter between theatrical traditions of India and Brechtian aesthetics, I have chosen five representative performances produced between the 1960s and the 1990s in Hindi showing Brechtian inf luences: Sufaid Kundali (The Caucasian Chalk Circle, 1963), Teen Take Ka Swang (The Threepenny Opera, 1970), Shajapur Ki Shantibai (The Good Person of Szechwan,

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  13

1978), Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain (Don’t Blame the Powerful, 1980) and Himmat Mai (Mother Courage and her Children, 1993). My thematic entry point into Brechtian theatre in India is to look at how these performances address the idea of the Indian nation-state. Here, the metaphor of pharmakon can be extended to understand how performances problematise the idea of the nation-state, as it goes beyond conceptualising the binary manifestation of the nation-state as a “remedy” to the anxiety of post-independence India or as a “poison” causing this anxiety. Importantly, the study aims to unsettle the idea of the “Indian nation” as a cohesive category signifying singularity. I demonstrate that this challenge to the fixed character of the Indian nation is not only played out in performances celebrating diversity in metropolitan cities such as Delhi but also in the small towns of Chhattisgarh. To understand the various facets of this transcultural encounter between German and Indian theatrical traditions, I also engage with the broader field of enquiry related to Brecht and Indian theatre, in general.18 This book also considers the disciplines of theatre studies and postcolonial studies in an intersectional manner and pays close attention to the performative sphere that remained unacknowledged until the late 1990s by postcolonial studies. One of the earliest texts to admit the crucial role of the performative sphere is Helen Gilbert and Joanne Tompkins’s PostColonial Drama: Theory, Practice and Politics. This text triggered the larger project to document the effect of cultural imperialism on performance and performativity. Aparna Dharwadker uses Gilbert and Tompkins’s analytic method in her comprehensive study of Indian theatre, Theatres of Independence: Drama, Theory and Urban Performance in India Since 1947, to investigate how imperialism irrevocably changed and hybridised indigenous theatre. Moreover, she illustrates that Indian theatre is a site of struggle – a defiant space, more than the narrative of the empire writing back. In tandem with Dharwadker’s project, the book aims to theorise the discourse of resistance and its evolution, an important element of Brechtian theatre in India. This engagement with the discourse of resistance further assists me in recuperating knowledge of the “Other” by demonstrating how a given representation or adaptation changes in a transcultural setting. At the heart of my investigation of the “Other” is Dipesh Chakrabarty’s Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, which addresses the question of how the mythical figure of Europe is taken to be the original site of the modern in non-Western countries. Thus, “to provincialize Europe was then to know how universalistic thought was always and already modified by particular histories, whether or not we could excavate such pasts fully” (Chakrabarty, Provincializing xiv). Like Chakrabarty, my study challenges the notions of origins and authenticity as I demonstrate how Brechtian theatre in India is neither marginal nor dependent on its European counterpart.19

14  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

Outline of the chapters This study is divided into five chapters. Each chapter analyses a different perspective across time and place to offer diversity to my argument that inf luence is a site articulating the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. I  highlight the pharmakonic aspect of Brechtian theatre by reading the discourse of inf luence for, rather than on, as I foreground the distinctiveness of the uses of Brechtian aesthetics in different environments. These chapters thus argue that there are multiple variants of Brechtian theatre in India rather than one monolithic idea of it. Chapter 1, “Towards a definition of Brechtian theatre in India,” examines the emergence of Brechtian theatre in India. To problematise this new and radical performance tradition, I read this emergence against the backdrop of “inf luence for” – that is, how Indian playwrights deployed Brechtian aesthetics – and offer three arguments. First, I argue that there was an urgent need to create a performance tradition that was anti-imperialist and a constant challenge to the Parsi theatre’s commercial and spectacle formation model, which was responsible for introducing Western theatrical practices in India. Second, the country needed a theatre that could articulate postcolonial political identity rather than the fourth-wall illusionism of the Indian naturalistic theatre of the 1930s. Finally, a theatre was needed that was continuously in dialogue with the diverse performance traditions of India and that celebrated diversity rather than remaining fixed to one performance tradition embodied by the Natyasastra20 and represented by the roots movement in the 1950s. I argue that the entwined strands of Indian theatrical and cultural history present a starting point to understand the characteristics of Brechtian theatre in the context of performance. In Chapter 2, “Performing Brecht on the Indian stage: towards a national theatre,” I investigate the first use of the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics in India by reading the politics of Brechtian theatre in India against the Indian carnivalesque tradition. Drawing upon insights from the theatre group Hindustani Theatre, the first professional theatre troupe in India, and its 1963 production of Sufaid Kundali (The Caucasian Chalk Circle), the first example of Brecht’s plays in the Hindi belt, I argue that since its first staging in the Hindi belt, Brechtian theatre is an assertion of what Foucault calls “similarity” (This is Not a Pipe 44). I examine a subversive variant of Indian proscenium theatre before the introduction of Brechtian theatre in India and demonstrate how this variant remained crucial to shaping India’s definition of Brechtian theatre. This means that the emergence of Brechtian theatre cannot be credited solely to the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India but it also recognises India’s own political and subversive theatrical traditions. Chapter 3, “Politicising Brecht: a study of Fritz Bennewitz’s theatre,” probes the crucial role of Brechtian aesthetics between the late 1960s and early 1970s in creating a new strain of political theatre in India, which marked another use of the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics in India. I argue that the formation of this new variant was the result of the creation of a “theatrical idiom”

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  15

of Gestic realism through the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics. I examine one such instance of Brechtian aesthetics with Gestus, a Brechtian device that establishes a nexus between body, history and society. Besides underscoring the role played by Gestic realism, I further propose that the device of Gestus is dependent on the social and political contexts of the target audience, which means that the Indian version of Brechtian theatre will continue to swerve into something new and different from its European counterpart. Drawing upon the performance of Teen Take Ka Swang (The Threepenny Opera, 1970) by the East German director Fritz Bennewitz, the chapter problematises and expands the purview of Brechtian scholarship in India. Broadly, it examines the capacity of Brechtian theatre to articulate the discourse of India. Chapter 4, “Regionalising Brecht in India” continues the discussion on the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics and its disparate uses in India by analysing the theatre of Habib Tanvir, a playwright and director from India. With my analysis of Shajapur ki Shantibai (The Good Person of Szechwan, 1978), I demonstrate how Tanvir ultimately used Brechtian aesthetics in India to challenge the nation-state, an act that remained independent of Brechtian theatre’s previous uses in the European context. I argue that the production “regionalised” Brechtian theatre in India and should be read as the culmination of Tanvir’s endeavour to create a “regional” theatre apparatus, which appropriated both Western and mainstream Indian variants of Brechtian theatre. The last chapter, “The bends versus ends of Brechtian theatre: a study of the theatre of Safdar Hashmi and Amal Allana,” maps out the further evolution of Brechtian theatre in the wake of the changes in political21 and theatrical scenes.22 I further explore the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics and its distinctive uses in India after the Emergency and globalisation. I analyse two bends of Brechtian theatre – new street theatre and post-Brechtian theatre – and argue that these interventions can’t be considered as an “end” of Brechtian theatre but only a challenge to orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. In the first section of the chapter, I analyse the first “bend” of Brechtian theatre via Safdar Hashmi’s production of Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain (Don’t Blame the Powerful, 1980), a representative example of street theatre in India. In the second section, I analyse the second “bend” of Brechtian theatre through Amal Allana’s production of Himmat Mai (Mother Courage and her Children, 1993). In the conclusion, I highlight my contribution to three disciplines: Brechtian studies, postcolonial studies and theatre studies, and demonstrate how my research can be pivotal to future scholars. Overall, the project aims to peripheralise the discourse of Brechtian theatre by first analysing the import of Brechtian theatre from Europe to India and then from the metropolitan centres of India to small towns. The aim in provincialising Brechtian theatre is to reconsider Indian theatre by thinking through the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics. Brechtian theatre in India is neither utterly alike nor completely different from its European counterpart but a manifestation of the Foucauldian discourse of “similarity.” Moreover, the study focuses on reciprocity, rather than one-sidedness of cultural f low, between Brechtian theatre and

16  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

Indian theatre, namely how Brechtian aesthetics transformed Indian theatre and were simultaneously transmuted in the process. This study demonstrates how “theatre is an activity” (Bharucha, Theatre and the World 10) that is in ceaseless contact with the socio-political realities of the world that produces it. It is this relation of theatre with the society that bestows a pharmakonic character on Brechtian theatre. This project raises substantial questions on the significance of Brecht in India while suggesting possibilities for further research on Brecht in the Hindi belt. It demonstrates how Brechtian theatre in India is more than a European invention and thus challenges attempts to legitimise Brechtian theatre as part of the legacy of Europe. In other words, the study arrives at the idea of polygenesis of Brechtian theatre, rather than reading Brechtian theatre as an import of Europe to India.

Notes 1 Bloom identifies six types of inf luence in the context of the poetry between the father figure and his successor. First, it is a poetic misprision, misreading of the former poet by the latter. Second, it is an antithesis, in which the latter poet sees himself as antithetical to the former. Third, it is discontinuity, when the latter poet deliberately ruptures the thread that connects him to the former. Fourth, it is daemonization, when the latter poet sees the former’s uniqueness as the result of powers outside him. Fifth, it is ascesis, when the latter poet exorcises the ghost of the former poet. Finally, it is submission, where the latter poet gives in to the style of the former.

3 By European counterpart, I refer to the productions of Brecht’s plays in Europe. I have used the terms Western, German and European counterpart interchangeably so is the case with the West and Europe. 4 Derrida challenges the past scholarship, which reads Plato’s Phaedrus as a failed attempt in creating a definite binary opposition. He sees Plato’s pharmakon as a study in ambivalence rather than an idealist site separating one meaning of the term (cure) from the other (poison). Ref lecting on the central myth of Phaedrus, that is, of the Egyptian God, Theuth, Derrida demonstrates how the binary separation of things, based on idealism, does not work in Plato’s Phaedrus because the text deconstructs itself by dovetailing these two meanings into one turning the phamarkon into “the movement, the locus, and the play: (the production of ) difference. It is the differance [sic] of difference” (Dissemination 127). According to the myth, the Egyptian God offers the King of gods, Thamus, “writing” as a “remedy” to help memory. The King refuses it on the grounds that it will inculcate forgetfulness in him. By denying to keep the gift, King Thamus underlines the negative aspect of pharmakon – that is, a poison (127). This myth shows that

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  17

5 6 7

8 9

10

11

the pharmakon is a site generating indeterminacy towards definite meanings as it can be both a remedy as well as a poison. According to Sen, “the dialogic commitment” and “acceptance of plurality” are central to the idea of heterodox India (39). Reinhold Grimm notes that there are at least seven volumes of Brecht’s theoretical writings in the authoritative 20-volume Gesammelte Werke (1967). These writings are further superseded by the 30-volume Werke (1988–) (36). Throughout my study, I use the word “Organon” rather than “Organum.” My decision to use “Organon” is based on John White’s argument in Bertolt Brecht’s Dramatic Theory. White argues that “unfortunately, to substitute the Latin ‘Organum’ for the Greek ‘Organon,’ as English discussions of the work often do, risks implying too exclusive an indebtedness to Francis Bacon’s Novum Organum of 1620. Brecht may have even deliberately opted for the Greek term because it was used collectively for Aristotle’s various writings on logic or he may have done so because it also occurs in the title of the standard German translation of Bacon’s Novum Organum” (191). It is also translated as similitude. There is no denying the fact that Brecht was also suspicious of universal ideas and Marxism as a whole. Frederic Jameson underlined this side of Brecht when he argued that Marxism which Brecht learnt from his Marxian teacher, Karl Korsch “was not a set of doctrines and principles, which could serve as just such a framework, but, rather, an attitude hostile to system in general” (24). He further adds that “[y]et if it means didactic, then we must add that Brecht never exactly had a doctrine to teach, not even ‘Marxism’ in the form of a system” (2). One of the earliest references to India was in Brecht’s diary entry of 26 September 1920 when he refers to Rabindranath Tagore’s Home and the World. He calls the novel as “a wonderful book, strong and gentle” (Diaries 55). India was invoked again in Brecht’s play Man Equals Man (1926) and his one act political farce, The Elephant Calf (1926), which was originally the part of Man Equals Man. Invocations to India exist in Brecht’s plays, essays and poems such as Lion Feuchtwanger’s Calcutta, 4 May (1927, written in collaboration with Brecht); The Threepenny Opera (1931); the poem “The Playwright’s Song” (1935); in his essay “On New Dramatic Writing” (1928); his 1935 poem “Question from a Worker who Reads”; his essay “Two Essay Fragments on Non-Professional Acting” (1939); in his journal entry of 20 September 1943. Scholars on regional language theatres in India have engaged profusely and consistently with Brecht. The most illuminating study in this regard is Rustom Bharucha’s Rehearsals of Revolution: The Political Theater of Bengal which examines both Calcutta’s tradition of political theatre and its Brechtian legacy while calling for theatre scholars to pay attention to the role of political theatre in India. Other seminal contributions in this field include Bharucha’s “Beyond Brecht: Political Theatre in Calcutta”; Arundhati Banerjee’s “Brecht Adaptations in Modern Bengali Theatre”; Aparna Dharwadker’s “John Gay, Bertolt Brecht, and Postcolonial Antinationalisms”; Joerg Esleben’s “From Didactic to Dialectic Intercultural Theater: Fritz Bennewitz and the 1973 Production of the Caucasian Chalk Circle in Mumbai”; and Boris Daussà-Pastor’s “Estrangement in Kathakali.” This scholarship on Brecht contributes to my project in two significant ways. First, it presents the intracultural aspect of Indian theatre, situating the theatre tradition in India not as an isolated canon but rather as informed by other performance practices in India. In other words, to adapt Brecht in India is to engage with both intra and intercultural performance practices. Second, this regional scholarship on Brecht clarifies the frequent mistake of equating the estrangement of classical theatre traditions, “which are largely based on gestural stylization and codified and presentational acting” (Daussà-Pastor 48), with Brecht’s Verfremdungseffekt

18  Introduction: Brechtian theatre through fragmentary comparisons. One such comparison is noted by K. Satchidanandan who calls K. Aravindkshaw’s claim that “epic theatre is a Marxist Kathakali” an attempt to misconstrue Kathakali (cited in Daussà-Pastor 49). Discussing how estrangement in Kathakali differs from Brecht’s Verfremdungseffekt, Boris Daussà-Pastor explains that a Kathakali performance is meant to generate an emotional response in the audience so that they can move from the unfamiliarity of mythical situations to familiarity – as opposed to Brecht’s epic theatre, which renders a familiar situation somewhat unfamiliar (50–52). Besides these critical inquiries discussing adaptation of Brecht in regional languages, the playwright was also adapted into English in India. One of the most important texts in this field of inquiry is Richard Schechner’s “Malleable Brecht: The Performance Group’s Mother Courage in India, 1976.” 12 Rekha Kamath’s and Mohan Thapaliyal’s article “Preliminary Bibliography of Hindi Translations from Bertolt Brecht” draws attention to Brecht’s plays and their translation in Hindi. It presents an inventory of Brecht’s plays that were translated in Hindi in the 1960s and 1970s. In dialogue with the bibliographical tradition established by Kamath and Thapliyal, Vasudha Dalmia’s “Brecht on the North Indian Hindi Stage: Facts & Figures” contributed to the field of research in providing an update of Hindi productions of Brecht until 1983. It is worth mentioning that Dalmia’s essay assures that due credit is given to the director of the Weimar Theatre, Fritz Bennewitz, whose constant efforts helped in the dissemination of Brecht in India in the 1970s. The essay hints at, without elaboration, the role played by the National School of Drama – which had entered into an agreement with the Government of the German Democratic Republic – in allowing Bennewitz to visit and direct plays by Brecht in India. Dalmia’s second publication, “Brecht in Hindi: The Poetics of Response,” is a brief historical account of modern Hindi drama’s theatrical aesthetics in the context of Brecht. It provides a comparative study of one Indian folk form, Nautanki or Svang, and Brecht’s epic theatre. Although it lacks in-depth analysis in its brief account of the similarities and differences between Nautanki and epic-theatre, it is still an important document, stating a theoretical base for future research on Brecht scholarship in India. Dalmia’s third publication, “To be More Brechtian is to be More Indian: On the Theatre of Habib Tanvir,” provides an insightful reading of the inf luence of Brecht on Habib Tanvir’s theatre. Dalmia demonstrates that Tanvir creatively used the inf luence of Brecht to create a theatre that resisted the endeavours of the State culture industry to nationalise and homogenise the folk traditions of India. I use the article as an initial starting point for my study of Habib Tanvir’s theatre and its act of rewriting Brecht in India. Another important contribution to Brechtian scholarship in India is Suresh Vashishtha’s Hindi Natak aur Rangmanch: Brecht Ka Prabhav (Hindi Drama and Theatre: The Influence of Brecht), which offers a study of the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics on Hindi theatre, and has remained so far the most conclusive study on Brecht in Hindi. Although the book focuses on the effect of Brecht on Hindi theatre, it is limited to the inf luence of Brecht’s plays and his theories on Hindi theatre and makes no attempt to compare Brecht’s own staging of his plays with Hindi productions of Brecht. To expand this field of scholarship and highlight the contribution of Indian theatre directors to Brechtian theatre, Nissar Allana edited a volume entitled A Tribute to Bertolt Brecht. The book, which provides a bibliography of Brecht’s plays in India up until 1993, also includes two essays by Amal Allana – “Director’s Note on Himmat Mai,” and “Production Notes: Himmat Mai” – that remain seminal to my project as they underline the intercultural aspect of Brechtian theatre in the Hindi belt by mapping the production history of Amal Allana’s production of Himmat Mai (Mother Courage and her Children) in

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  19 1993. Although Allana’s edited book gives the viewpoint of theatre directors on Brecht and his theatre, it does not present a complete engagement with Brecht’s theatre in India. Dalmia’s fourth publication, Poetics, Plays, and Performances: The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre addresses this gap in Brechtian scholarship. Dalmia’s book displays her lucid thinking on Hindi theatre in general and Brecht in particular. She demonstrates how in 1940 the Indian People’s Theatre Association triggered the urban interest in traditional forms, resulting in the search for an indigenous idiom in Brecht’s epic theatre, which provided a model for the same search for an indigenous idiom in contemporary stage productions. Although the book provides a detailed study of modern Hindi theatre, it contains few insights on the inf luence of Brecht on Indian theatre. With Dalmia republishing her last two essays on the significant role played by Brecht in Hindi theatre, the book collects existing debates in the field of inquiry rather than contribute something new to existing scholarship on Brecht in India. Although the book claims to highlight the impact of Brecht in Hindi plays, it traces only the genealogy of modern Hindi theatre rather than a full-scale genealogy of the emergence of Brecht in the Hindi belt. A recent essay in the scholarship on Brecht in the Hindi context is Amal Allana’s “Brecht: A Participant in the Process of Nation Building” which documents a chronological history of productions of Brecht in India. However, it does not focus entirely on Hindi theatre because only a small section is devoted to Hindi productions of Brecht, and its limitation lies in its inability to state a theoretical framework that can be used to understand the significance of Brecht and the reasons that led to the dissemination of his literary corpus in India. The essay gives an overview of the role played by Brecht not only in one region in India, but all over the country. 13 Lutze acknowledges the inf luence of Esslin’s Brecht: A Choice of Evils over his presentation. In the book, Esslin mistakenly separates Brecht the propagandist from Brecht the artist. 14 The journal was published regularly for one year in 1963, and “it was quite likely the first publication of its kind in India, seeing how it was published in 1963, at least two years before any other major theatre-centric magazines, such as ‘Sangeet Natak’ and ‘Natarang’ in 1965, ‘Enact’ in 1967, began cropping up” (Sastry). Although the journal was one of the earliest publications on theatre in English, it was not the first because Natya: Theatre Arts Journal was in publication since October 1956. 15 Although there are 13 contributions in this issue of Hindustani Theatre (three poems by Brecht, four articles on epic theatre by Brecht, with the remaining six by theatre practitioners), only one article, “Towards a Popular Theatre” by Shama Zaidi, deals directly with Brecht in the context of Indian theatre. Zaidi’s lead article encouraged Indian theatre directors “to put the popular forms of art to aesthetic use” (“Towards a Popular” 2) rather than discarding them in favour of so-called high themes meant for “the snobs” (“Towards a Popular” 1). Zaidi’s use of the term “the snobs” refers to the urban theatre directors who discard popular indigenous forms for “the Freudian,” a term used by Zaidi to underline abstract theatre practices. To explain this point further, Zaidi asserted that “[t]he epic style of acting is more akin to the Commedia dell’arte or Nautanki, but as Brecht points out ‘the social purpose of these old effects was entirely different from ours’” (“Towards a Popular” 3). Otherwise put, the method to create popular theatre in India was to mix popular forms with social reality. According to Zaidi, the “popular” in the context of Brecht means two things: popular theatre should address the “interests” of the common people, and this theatre should address the question of “how,” that is, what needs to be done to convey the message to the audience. The article remains significant to my study because it was likely

20  Introduction: Brechtian theatre

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the first attempt “to cultivate a theatre literate audience” (Sastry) who could understand Brecht and also the first to embrace “popular” folk theatrical practices of India. The emergence of theatre journals in the 1960s can be read as an answer to the nationalist call to articulate and establish Indian theatre criticism that came in the wake of India’s independence in 1947. Moreover, the founding of the National School of Drama in 1959 was also pivotal in the emergence of these journals since it fostered theatre culture in India. Discussing the work of African writers in European languages, Ngugi writes that what gives these works “innovative difference is surely its relationship to African languages and the great heritage of orature in those languages” (“Europhonism”  6). For Ngugi, these African languages offer African writers writing in European languages “perpetual youthfulness” and thus these languages must be called “the magic fountain” (“Europhonism” 7). Seminal texts in this area include Ramanlal Kanaiyalal Yajnik’s The Indian Theatre: its Origins and its Later Developments under European Influence, with Special Reference to Western India, Adya Rangacharya’s The Indian Theatre, Farley P. Richmond, Darius L. Swann and Phillip B. Zarrilli’s Indian Theatre: Traditions of Performance, Anjala Maharishi’s A Comparative Study of Brechtian and Classical Indian Theatre, and Nandi Bhatia’s edited volume, Modern Indian Theatre. Some other seminal texts that theorise this resistance and its mode are Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin’s edited volume, The Post-Colonial Studies Reader, Leela Gandhi’s Postcolonial Theory: A Critical Introduction, Homi K. Bhabha’s Nation and Narration, The Location of Culture, and Nandi Bhatia’s Acts of Authority, Acts of Resistance: Theatre and Politics in Colonial and Postcolonial India. This is one of the earliest known Indian treatises on performance. The Emergency refers to the period of 21-month between 1975 and 1977 when the fundamental rights of the citizens were suspended by the Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. The great wave of street theatre as 30,000 street performances marked the first birthday of Safdar Hashmi since his death in January 1989.

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22  Introduction: Brechtian theatre ———. “Narrating the Nation.” Nationalism. Eds. John Hutchinson and Anthony D. Smith. Oxford: Oxford U P, 1994. 306–312. Print. ———. The Location of Culture. New York: Routledge, 2004. Print. Bharata. The Natyasastra: A Treatise on Hindu Dramaturgy and Histrionics. Trans. Manmohan Ghosh. Vol. I. Calcutta: The Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1950. Print. Bharucha, Rustom. “Beyond Brecht: Political Theatre in Calcutta.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 11. 1982. 73–89. Print. ———. Rehearsals of Revolution: The Political Theater of Bengal. Honolulu: U of Hawaii P, 1983. Print. ———. In the Name of the Secular: Contemporary Cultural Activism in India. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 1998. Print. ———. Theatre and the World: Performance and the Politics of Culture. London: Routledge, 1993. Print. ———. Terror and Performance. New Delhi: Tulika Books, 2014. Print. Bhatia, Nandi. “Staging a Change: Modern Indian Drama and the Colonial Encounter.” Diss. University of Texas at Austin 1996. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Aug. 2014. ———. Acts of Authority, Acts of Resistance: Theater and Politics in Colonial and Postcolonial India. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2004. Print. ———. ed. Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. Print. ———. “Modern Indian Theatre: An Introduction.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. XI–XXXIX. Print. ———. Performing Women/Performing Womenhood: Theatre, Politics, and Dissent in North India. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2010. Print. Bloom, Harold. The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry. 2nd ed. New York: Oxford U P, 1997. Print. Brecht, Bertolt. Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Trans. John Willett. Ed. John Willett. 2nd ed. London: Methuen, 1974. Print. ———. “Against Georg Lukács.” Aesthetics and Politics. London: Verso, 1977. 68–85. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht’s Me-ti: Book of Interventions in the Flow of Things. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Print. ———. Diaries 1920–1922. Trans. John Willett. London: Eyre Methuen, 1979. Print. ———. Journals 1934–1955. Trans. Hugh Rorrison. Ed. John Willett. London: Methuen, 1993. Print. ———. Mother Courage and Her Children. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1994. Print. ———. The Caucasian Chalk Circle. Trans. Eric Bentley. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1999, Print. ———. Brecht on Art and Politics. Eds. Tom Kuhn and Steve Giles. London: Bloomsbury, 2003. Print. ———. The Threepenny Opera. Trans. Ralph Manheim and John Willett. London: Bloomsbury, 2005. Print. ———. Poetry and Prose. Eds. Reinhold Grimm and Caroline Molina Y. Vedia. London: Continuum, 2006. Print. ———. Brecht on Performance. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print.

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  23 ———. “Notes on The Threepenny Opera.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 71–80. Print. ———. “Notes on The Mother (1933).” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 86–96. Print. ———. “Theatre for Pleasure or Theatre for Instruction.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 109–117. Print. ———. “On Experimental Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 133–146. Print. ———. “Verfremdung Effects in Chinese Acting.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 151–159. Print. ———. “On Gestic Music.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 167–169. Print. ———. “The Street Scene.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 176–183. Print. ———. “Realism and the Proletariat.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 200–206. Print. ———. “Short Organon.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 229–255. Print. ———. “Theatre Work.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 263–267. Print. ———. “Dialectical Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 283–285. Print. ———. “A Detour: The Caucasian Chalk Circle.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 298–299. Print. ———. Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. The Good Person of Szechwan. Collected Plays: Six. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 1994. 1–111. Print. ———. The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. Trans. Ralph Manheim. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 113–214. Print. ———. “Visit to the Banished Poets.” Collected Poems. Trans. David Constantine and Tom Kuhn. New York: Norton, 2018. 681–682. Print. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Print. ———. “Clothing the Political Man: A Reading of the Use of Khadi/White in India Public Life.” Postcolonial Studies 4.1 (2001): 27–38. Print. Dalmia, Vasudha. The Nationalization of Hindu Traditions: Bharatendu Harischandra and Nineteenth-Century Banaras. Delhi: Oxford U P, 1997. Print. ———. Poetics, Plays, and Performances: The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2008. Print. Dalmia-Lüderlitz, Vasudha. “Brecht on the North Indian Hindi Stage: Facts & Figures.” Communications from the International Brecht Society 17.1 (1987): 53–61. Print. ———. “Brecht in Hindi: The Poetics of Response.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 16 ( Jan.– Mar. 1988): 59–72. Print.

24  Introduction: Brechtian theatre ———. “To Be More Brechtian Is to Be More Indian: On the Theatre of Habib Tanvir.” The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre, Own and Foreign. Eds. Erika Fischer-Lichte, Josephine Riley and Michael Gissenwehrer. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 1990. 221–235. Print. Daussà-Pastor, Boris. “Estrangement in Kathakali.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 36. 2011. 45–54. Print. Davidann, Jon Thares and Marc Jason Gilbert. Cross-Cultural Encounters in Modern World History. Upper Saddle River: Pearson, 2013. Print. Derrida, Jacques. Dissemination. Trans. Barbara Johnson. London: Athlone Press, 1981. Print. Deshpande, Sudhanva. “What is to be Undone?.” Our Stages: Pleasures and Perils of Theatre Practice in India. Eds. Sudhanva Deshpande, Akshara K.V. and Sameera Iyengar. New Delhi: Tulika, 2009. 21–32. Print. Dharwadker, Aparna. “John Gay, Bertolt Brecht, and Postcolonial Antinationalisms.” Modern Drama 38.1 (1995): 4–21. Print. ———. Theatres of Independence: Drama, Theory, and Urban Performance in India since 1947. Iowa City: U of Iowa P, 2005. Print. Esleben, Joerg. “From Didactic to Dialectic Intercultural Theater: Fritz Bennewitz and the 1973 Production of the Caucasian Chalk Circle in Mumbai.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 36. 2011. 303–312. Print. Esleben, Joerg, Rohmer Rolf, and David G. John. Fritz Bennewitz in India: Intercultural Theatre with Brecht and Shakespeare. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2016. Print. Esslin, Martin. Brecht: A Choice of Evils: A Critical Study of the Man, His Work, and His Opinions. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1959. Print. ———. Brecht: The Man and His Work. New York: Anchor Books, 1971. Print. Foucault, Michel. This is Not a Pipe. Trans. James Harkness. Ed. James Harkness. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Print. ———. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. Alan M. Sheridan-Smith. London: Routledge, 1989. Print. Fuegi, John. The Essential Brecht. Los Angeles: Hennessey & Ingalls, 1972. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht: Chaos, According to the Plan. London: Cambridge U P, 1987. Print. Gandhi, Leela. Postcolonial Theory: A Critical Introduction. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1998. Print. Gargi, Balwant. “The Caucasian Chalk Circle: From Three Angles.” The Times of India (29 June 1969): V. Print. ———. “Meeting Brecht in Person.” A Tribute to Brecht. Ed. Nissar Allana. New Delhi: Theatre and Television Associates, 1993. 25–26. Print. Gilbert, Helen, and Joanne Tompkins. Post-Colonial Drama: Theory, Practice, Politics. London: Routledge, 1996. Print. Greenblatt, Stephen. The Swerve: How the Renaissance Began. London: Bodley Head, 2011. Print. Grimm, Reinhold. “Alienation in Context: On the Theory and Practice of Brechtian Theater.” A Bertolt Brecht Reference Companion. Ed. Siegfried Mews. London: Greenwood Press, 1997. 35–46. Print. Hashmi, Qamar Azad. The Fifth Flame: The Story of Safdar Hashmi. Trans. Madhu Prasad and Sohail Hashmi. Delhi: Viking, 1997. Print. Hashmi, Safdar. “The Right to Perform.” Radical Street Performance: An International Anthology. Ed. Jan Cohen-Cruz. London: Routledge, 1998. 31–37. Print.

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  25 ———. “The People Gave Us So Much Energy.” Theatre of the Streets: The Jana Natya Manch Experience. Ed. Sudhanva Deshpande. Interviewed by Eugene van Erven. Delhi: Janam, 2007. 17–58. Print. ———. “The First Ten Years of Street Theatre.” Theatre of the Streets: The Jana Natya Manch Experience. Ed. Sudhanva Deshpande. Delhi: Janam, 2013. 11–17. Print. Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. Print. Jain, Kirti. “Natya Samaroh: Nehru Shatabdi Natya Samaroh.” Natarang 14.53 (1990): 65–70. Print. ———. “Theatre Training: Some Issues.” Rasa: The Indian Performing Arts in the Last Twenty-Five Years. Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Vol. II. Eds. Ananda Lal and Chidananda Dasgupta. Calcutta: Anamika Kala Sangam, 1995. 63–70. Print. ———. “Theatre Education.” The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Ed. Ananda Lal. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2004. 488–490. Print. Jain, Nemichandra. “Dilli Ka Rangmanch.” Natarang 4.14 (1970): 49–56. Print. ———. “Nautanki.” The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Ed. Ananda Lal. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2004. 312–313. Print. Jakobson, Roman. “On Linguistic Aspects of Translation.” Selected Writings. Word and Language. Vol. II. Paris: Mouton, 1971. 260–266. Print. Jameson, Fredric. Brecht and Method. New York; London: Verso, 1998. Print. Jana Natya Manch. Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain. Chowk Chowk Par Gali Gali Mai. New Delhi: Sahmat, 2010. 23–44. Print. Kapur, Anuradha. “Reassembling the Modern: An Indian Theatre Map since Independence.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. 41–55. Print. ———. “The Representation of Gods and Heroes: Parsi Mythological Drama of the Early Twentieth Century.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 23 & 24 (1993): 85–107. Print. Lutze, Lothar. “Indian Classical Drama in the Light of Bertolt Brecht’s Dramatic Theory and Practice.” Yearbook. Ed. Helmo Rau. New Delhi: Max Mueller Bhavan, 1962. 29–49. Print. ———. “Enacting the Life of Rama. Classical Traditions in Contemporary Religious Folk Theatre of Northern India.” The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre, Own and Foreign. Eds. Erika Fischer-Lichte, Josephine Riley and Michael Gissenwehrer. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 1990. 209–220. Print. Maharishi, Anjala. A Comparative Study of Brechtian and Classical Indian Theatre. New Delhi: National School of Drama, 2000. Print. ———. “Europhonism, Universities, and the Magic Fountain: The Future of African Literature and Scholarship.” Research in African Literatures 31.1 (2000): 1–11. Print. Orr, Mary. Intertextuality: Debates and Contexts. Cambridge: Polity, 2007. Print. Ortiz, Christopher. “Indian Drama with Balwant Gargi.” The Miscellany News. Vol. 5. New York: Vassar College, 1982. LXXII.11. Print. Parker, Stephen. Bertolt Brecht: A Literary Life. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Print. Plato. The Symposium and the Phaedo. Trans. Raymond Larson. Ed. Raymond Larson. Wheeling, IL: Harlan Davidson, 1980. Print. Prakash, Gyan. “Writing Post-Orientalist Histories of the Third World: Perspectives from Indian Historiography.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32.2 (1990): 383–408. Print. ———. Mumbai Fables. Noida: Harper Collins, 2011. Print.

26  Introduction: Brechtian theatre Rangacharya, Adya. The Indian Theatre. New Delhi: National Book Trust, 1971. Print. Richmond, Farley. “The Political Role of Theatre in India.” Educational Theatre Journal 25.3 (1973): 318–334. Print. Richmond, Farley P., Darius L. Swann, and Phillip B. Zarrilli. Indian Theatre: Traditions of Performance. Honolulu: U of Hawaii P, 1990. Print. Sastry, Sharvari. “Hindustani Theatre: A Journal of the Arts.” Word Press 2015. Web. 5 May 2015. Sathyu, Mysore Shrinivas. “An Exhibition on Bertolt Brecht and his Theatre, New Delhi, Azad Bhawan, 10–19 February 1963.” Bertolt Brecht Archiv Austellungen. Berlin: Akademie Der Kunste Archiv, 1963. 1–16. ———. “Theatre Niyamit Hona Jaroori.” Interview with Mysore Shrinivas Sathyu. By Suresh Vashishtha. Natarang 14.55 (1991): 45–48. Print. ———. Personal Interview. 11 Dec. 2015. Schechner, Richard. “Malleable Brecht: The Performance Group’s Mother Courage in India, 1976.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 36. 2011. 5–24. Print. Sen, Amartya. The Argumentative Indian: Writings on Indian History, Culture and Identity. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2005. Print. Shackle, Christopher, and Rupert Snell. Hindi and Urdu since 1800: A Common Reader. New Delhi: Heritage Publishers, 1990. Print. Silberman, Marc. “A Postcolonial Brecht?” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 36. 2011. 241–247. Print. ———. “Bertolt Brecht, Politics, and Comedy.” Social Research 79.1 (2012): 169–188. Print. Smith, Martin F. “Introduction.” Lucretius: On the Nature of Things. Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company, 2001. Print. Smith, Jonathan Z. “The Bare Facts of Ritual.” History of Religions 20.1/2 (1980): 112–127. Print. Smith, Zadie. “Two Paths for the Novel.” The New York Review of Books 55.18 (2008): 89–94. Print. Spivak, Gayatri. “Can the Subaltern Speak?” Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture. Eds. Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg. London: Macmillan, 1988. 270–313. Print. Szondi, Peter. Theory of the Modern Drama: A Critical Edition. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1987. Print. Tanvir, Habib. “Brecht for One Producer.” Enact 15 (1968): n. pag. Print. ———. “Habib Tanvir Se Antrang Baatcheet.” By Vibhu Kumar. Natarang 6.21 (1972): 43–50. Print. ———. “Theatre is in the Villages.” Social Scientist 2.22 (1974): 32–41. Print. ———. “Habib Tanvir Interviewed.” By Rajinder Paul. Enact 87 (1974): n. pag. Print. ———. Shajapur Ki Shantibai. 1978. Collection of Nagin Tanvir, Bhopal. ———. “It Must Flow – A Life in Theatre.” Seagull Theatre Quarterly: A Journal of Contemporary Performance and Theatre in India 10 (1996): 3–38. Print. ———. Agra Bazaar. Calcutta: Seagull, 2006. Print. Thapaliyal, Mohan, and Rekha Kamath. “Preliminary Bibliography of Hindi Translations from Bertolt Brecht.” Journal of the School of Languages 5.1&2 (1977): 179– 185. Print.

Introduction: Brechtian theatre  27 Thiong’o, Ngugi wa. “Enactments of Power: The Politics of Performance Space.” TDR 41.3 (1997): 11–30. Print. Trivedi, Harish. “Colonial Inf luence, Postcolonial Intertextuality: Western Literature and Indian Literature.” Forum for Modern Language Studies 43.2 (2007): 121– 133. Print. Trivedi, Lisa N. Clothing Gandhi’s Nation. Bloomington: Indiana U P, 2007. Print. Vashishtha, Suresh. Hindi Natak Aur Rangmanch: Brecht Ka Prabhav. Delhi: Prem Prakashan Mandir, 1995. Print. White, John J. Bertolt Brecht’s Dramatic Theory. New York: Camden House, 2004. Print. Yajnik, Ramanlal Kanaiyalal. The Indian Theatre: Its Origins and Its Later Developments under European Influence, with Special Reference to Western India. New York: Haskell House, 1970. Print. Zaidi, Shama. “Towards a Popular Theatre.” Hindustani Theatre: A Monthly Journal of the Arts 1.1&2 (1963): 1–4. Print. ———. Personal Interview. 9 Dec. 2015.

1

Towards a definition of Brechtian theatre in India

The emergence of Brechtian theatre in India began with the Hindustani Theatre’s adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle in 1963 – almost certainly the first instance of any of Brecht’s play performed in the Hindi belt. It sparked a new political theatre in urban India. It was mobilised by two events: the founding of All-India Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA) in 1936 and the rise of Nehruvian socialism with India’s independence in 1947. Brechtian theatre in India was galvanised as a result of these cultural and political forces, rather than as just a European import separated from its Indian surroundings. The relationship between Brechtian theatre and the socio-political circumstances of India also highlights the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. Explaining the relationship between pharmakon and ambivalence, Jacques Derrida writes, “If the pharmakon is ‘ambivalent,’ it is because it constitutes the medium in which opposites are opposed, the movement and the play that links them among themselves, reverses them or makes one side cross over into the other” (127). Applying the term pharmakonic to Brechtian theatre underlines its ambivalence, its f luctuating and ever-changing essence. This becomes more apparent in the way that Indian theatre directors appropriated Europe’s Brechtian theatre in India, adapting it for new purposes that drastically departed from their previous uses. On 10 April 1936, a group of left-wing intellectuals decided to found the AIPWA at a conference presided over by Jawaharlal Nehru,1 “the high priest of Indian socialism” (Dam 69), and attended by many prominent leftist leaders. The founding was meant both to show solidarity with the Union of Soviet Writers, an association affiliated with the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and to form a United Communist Front against literature that promoted the theory of “Art for art’s sake.” It was the Manifesto2 of the AIPWA that set the founding stone for the emergence of Brechtian theatre in India. It states that (1) Indian writers must introduce “scientific rationalism” in literature and thus challenge reactionary and revivalist literary trends; (2) Literature should articulate the voice of the people and engage with the problems faced by the common people on a daily basis, such as the problems of hunger and poverty; (3) Literature should encourage “the critical spirit,

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  29

which examines customs and institutions in the light of reason, which helps us to act, to organize ourselves, to transform, we accept as progressive” (Malik 651). Extolling “scientific rationalism in literature” and “critical spirit,” the manifesto set the stage for Indian Brechtian theatre. The AIPWA also became the first organised literary movement in India wedded to Marxist ideals, eventually paving the way for the formation of the Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) in 1943. IPTA, since its inception, remained the cultural wing of the Communist Party of India, and played a major role in disseminating Marxist theatre practices throughout India. The Indian historian Sumit Sarkar tells the story of modern India as having three incomplete translations, out of many: the Gandhian dream of the peasant coming into his own in Ram-rajya [the reign of Lord Rama], as much as the left ideals of social revolution. And as the history of independent India and Pakistan (and Bangladesh) was repeatedly to reveal, even the problems of a complete bourgeois transformation and successful capitalist development were not fully solved by the transfer of power of 1947. (4) If the AIPWA was responsible for the literary and cultural changes that set the stage for Brechtian theatre, then Nehruvian socialism, which emerged with India’s independence, provided the political energy that triggered its emergence in India. Nehruvian socialism articulated the untapped potential of socialism. It had the power to cast a critical eye over problems in the country, so that much needed social reform could be carried out. In the words of Jawaharlal Nehru, who went on to become the first Indian Prime Minister, “if, therefore, we are opposed to this imperialism and exploitation, we must also be opposed to capitalism. The only alternative that is offered to us is some form of socialism” ( Jawaharlal Nehru: An Anthology 292). His words point towards the benefits of restructuring society along socialist lines. Brechtian theatre in India paid heed both to Nehru’s idea of socialism and its capacity for meaningful reform, which was also intertwined with the period of Soviet diplomacy in India when socialism was seen as the common thread between India and the Soviet Union. Nehruvian socialism supported the functioning of AIPWA, which probably considered the Union of Soviet Writers as its parent body. India is a mosaic of diverse cultures. It is this interweaving of diverse cultural trends that constructs what Nehru called “a spirit peculiar to it [India]” (The Discovery of India 59). The development of India’s peculiar spirit is based on both international and intra-national inf luences. In the same way, the emergence of any performance tradition in India doesn’t happen in isolation but is rather constantly being elaborated and shaped by other diverse performance traditions. Brechtian theatre, in keeping with this point, also doesn’t belong to the linear history of Hindi theatre under modernity. It never keeps

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to itself, but changes and transforms, reacting to and participating in the widest possible social vista. To understand this, one only needs to look at how the IPTA’s values were first manifested in Bengali theatre before they were disseminated in the Hindi belt. Aparna Dharwadker developed the definitive model of canon formation in the post-independence Indian theatre scene. Since its inception in 2005, it has remained an established and often cited model in demarcating postindependence theatre in India. Dharwadker breaks down the process of canon formation in three interlinked but antithetical historical movements. The first movement, which is purely radical, identifies “theatre with nation during the period from the 1870s to the 1940s” (Theatres of Independence 25).3 The second movement began after India’s independence in 1947, “weakened the radical positions of the 1940s and developed a revisionary view of theatre’s sociocultural role in the now-independent nation” (Dharwadker, Theatres of Independence 25).4 The third movement marked the “explosion in theatre activity (in terms of both playwriting and production) that gave shape to the post-independence tradition between about 1950 and 1980” (Theatres of Independence 25). The third movement is most relevant to the discussion of Brechtian theatre here, given its timeline. But Dharwadker’s model of canon formation, which places the movement “largely outside the ambit of the radical positions of the 1940s and the revisionary discourses of the 1950s” (Theatres of Independence 25) has limitations in the Brechtian context. The difficulty in classifying Brechtian theatre lies in its radical poetics and politics. The performance studies scholar Loren Kruger’s idea of “post-imperial Brechts,” which names Brecht in the plural, can be renamed in the Indian context as “post-independence Brechts,” referring to two radical new roles in post-independence India, namely aesthetic radicalism and political radicalism. These two forms of radicalism give Brechtian theatre its distinctive identity – a uniqueness that sets it apart not only from Dharwadker’s model but from the Western definition of Brechtian theatre. Aesthetic radicalism refers to Brechtian theatre’s attempt to break away from the “elite” conventions of performance traditions in India to forge new dimensions. Yet, while Brechtian theatre parted ways with these prevalent traditions, it was still shaped by them through what American theatrologist Marvin Carlson, in a different context, has called “ghosting,” in which, he writes, the “present experience is always ghosted by previous experiences and associations while these ghosts are simultaneously shifted and modified by the processes of recycling and recollection” (Carlson 2). The presence of elite Indian performance practices reshaped Brechtian theatre in India and made it unique from its European counterpart. However, despite the differences between the variants of Brechtian theatre in India and Europe, Brechtian theatre consistently brings to the fore radical aesthetics. The political radicalism of Brechtian theatre hints towards three unique stances: anti-imperialistic, anti-bourgeois (or anti-capitalist), and anticommunalist (or anti-fascist). With its imagery, rooted in the “familiar

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  31

gestures, expressions, and attitudes [of the people], which illuminate their conditions of life and their relation to the political situation in the country” (Bharucha, Rehearsals 199), Brechtian theatre evolves into a new urban political theatre in India. It was the tension between these two radical strands – aesthetic and political radicalism – that played a crucial role in Brechtian theatre a unique identity in India. The tension between them also highlights the absence of any essential core in the ambivalent pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre, whose non-essentialist character succeeded in articulating the particular anxieties and dilemmas of urban as well as rural India. Looking at the trajectory of modern Indian theatre and Brecht separately, it is obvious how their original character each changed when they were brought together by Indian playwrights.

Modern Indian theatre: an overview Modern Indian theatre contains an intricate web of theatrical constructs, often considered the result of India’s encounter with the West, along with its own indigenous theatre traditions. Before the advent of Brecht, it could be divided into four movements: Parsi Theatre, Naturalistic Theatre, Bengali Theatre and IPTA, and the Theatre of Roots. Each movement played an important role in the construction of diverse and heterogeneous variants of Brechtian theatre in India, highlighting its pharmakonic character. The Parsi theatre In the immediate aftermath of the modernist movement in India, a novel theatre developed in the urban city of Bombay (now Mumbai), merging performance traditions of both East and West.5 This new theatre, Bombay Amateur Theatre, was the first urban theatre experiment on Indian soil, though its “Indianness” was marred by the fact that the plays were performed only in English. However, this experiment of 1776 evolved into Parsi theatre,6 the first authentic Indian urban theatre, which “f lourished for well over a century,” with India’s last Parsi theatre – The Moonlight, in Calcutta – performing for live audiences until 1962 (Dalmia-Lüderitz, “Brecht in Hindi” 61). The first stride in the direction of the Parsi theatre, according to the noted theatre scholar Erin Mee, was the import of “plays, playhouses, and the idea of ticket sales to Mumbai in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century” by the British (“Decolonizing” 140). Once established, these playhouses soon gained currency among upper-class Indians, who wanted to be in proximity to the British. The second phase in the evolution of Parsi theatre deals with young Indian men, schooled in British classics within English colleges, who began to write their own productions, which were performed “in the theatres formerly reserved for English drama” (Mee 140). But these upper-class college students, thanks to their English education, distrusted

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native entertainment. Thus the “modern drama became synonymous with European naturalism” (Mee 141). Parsi theatre remained a cogent weapon in disseminating Western theatrical practices in India and was one of the most successful commercial institutions in colonial times. It adopted a regional language – Gujarati – in its early stages, followed by Urdu, which by the end had become mixed with Hindi and the occasional appearance of English. The use of vernacular dialogue made Parsi theatre the first successful Indian urban experiment, but its theatrical heritage still remains intrinsically Western, with European-style scripts divided into conventional acts and scenes (Hansen, “Languages on Stage” 383). It also avoided controversy7 as “the Parsi theatre steered clear of politics” (Solomon 21). Other Western performance practices remained dominant during the colonial era, including linear melodramatic and sentimental narratives, musical extravaganzas,8 and elaborate stage settings. Parsi theatre came to be associated with these hugely popular bourgeois9 entertainments, with their theatrical experiences based on “profusion, excess and eclecticism” (Kapur, “Reassembling the Modern” 49). Parsi theatre used these characteristics to create a “spectacle,” providing not only commercial entertainment to the people but also keeping a check on the revolutionary activities of Indians.10 The Parsi theatre scholar Somantha Gupt writing on the afterlife of Parsi theatre, highlights its power over India during the colonial period: “In the distant north, a number of companies were started in imitation of Parsi companies in Peshawar, Lahore, Amritsar, and Ludhiana. Many theatrical companies were also established in Uttar Pradesh” (191). Through the inf luence of its touring companies, the impact of Parsi theatre became integral to the development of modern Indian drama. Not only did it shape all theatrical forms in India, but also the Bollywood film industry, which continues to be known for its Parsi theatre-inf luenced uses of melodrama and the spectacular.11 Naturalistic theatre In the 1930s, a new entertainment colossus surfaced: the talkie. While Parsi theatre continued to garner attention and command widespread inf luence, it was displaced by the talkie as India’s prime mode of entertainment. Naturalism had emerged as a new, distinct style on the Indian stage, debunking the Parsi theatre’s style of representation, which followed a sentimental and melodramatic style of acting, just like the eighteenth- century English plays from which it borrowed. It was championed by Indian playwrights Lakshmi Narayan Mishra, Bhuvaneshvar Prasad Srivastava and Upendranath Ashk, and reached its pinnacle in the plays of Indian playwright Mohan Rakesh. In India, a realistic acting system called the lokadharmi (245) from classical Sanskrit theatre predated naturalistic theatre by over two thousand years,12

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as noted in Bharata’s Natyasastra, an ancient Sanskrit text on Indian poetics. But lokadharmi practiced a more stylized form of acting, similar to natyadharmi, the second tradition of acting mentioned in the Natyasastra. Highlighting the stylised nature of both natyadharmi and lokadharmi systems, Kallinatha,  the ancient Sanskrit scholar, in his commentary on the ­ Sangita-ratnakara, another ancient text on music and dance, writes that they use angikka abhinaya, or acting through body parts including facial expressions, to accompany the words, which “are not merely used as in the way of common practice of the world.” Only sentences enunciated with the right vakyabhinaya – in this case, speech – count as lokadharmi, writes Kallinatha, while the “rendering of the sentence with intonation (ragayukta) is natyadharmi” (cited in Mehta, Sanskrit Play 190). Unlike a more common, realistic practice of presentation, the lokadharmi system required at least the stylised acting of the body. Further highlighting the stylised character of the lokadharmi system, Tarla Mehta, a Sanskrit theatre scholar, remarks that lokadharmi practice, as “an assimilation of the ways of the world,” was likely less dependent on “rigorous specialization as the natyadharmi system,” and was “comparatively less formal.” She notes that lokadharmi was performed according to “hereditary traditions governing the four-fold abhinaya [acting]” (189). The acting traditions that inf luenced the lokadharmi system enhances its stylised quality, further distinguishing it from naturalistic theatre. Clearly, naturalistic theatre in India was not inf luenced by the lokadharmi tradition but was rather inspired by the works of Henrik Ibsen and August Strindberg. Like those playwrights, Indian naturalistic theatre explored “the problems connected with women’s emancipation and relationships between the sexes” (Dimitrova 4). As a dramatic form, naturalism in India focused on the relationships of individuals rather than the role of history (as explored in the historical plays by Jay Shankar Prasad) or the importance of Indian aesthetic (rasa), as in the plays by Bharatendu Harishchandra. For instance, all the major plays of the naturalist playwright Mohan Rakesh – Ashad Ka Ek Din (A Monsoon Day, 1958), Lehron Ke Rajhans (The Swans of the Waves, 1968), and Adhe Adhure (Halfway House, 1969) – remain limited to explorations of interpersonal relationships. The playwrights of naturalistic theatre take pride in employing naturalistic characterisation techniques to show what the noted theatre scholar, Diana Dimitrova, points out “dramatis personae are individuals who are determined by their social milieu” (5). She further adds that “the author provides as much background information and physical, behavioral and biographical details as possible” to punctuate the relation between the character and social background (5). Naturalistic theatre erupted onto the Indian stage as a truth-seeking, “non-melodramatic” style of representation. But, in India as well as in the Western context, it nonetheless remained what Australian theatre scholar Meg Mumford calls “a tool for preserving the bourgeois

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status quo” (66). According to Mumford, naturalistic theatre “manipulates spectators into close identification with characters and an involvement in an uninterrupted linear f low of action led to fatalistic self-indulgence, in which any ability to ref lect critically on social reality was inhibited” (66). This affect is accomplished by using a naturalistic style of characterisation. If “plot was the dominant element in both melodrama and the well-made plays,” writes the theatre scholar Christopher Innes, “characterization is the basis of Naturalism” (13). Despite offering many advantages over Parsi theatre, naturalistic theatre remained a mere mode of entertainment that lacked the ability to articulate the woes of the new nation. With the use of realistic characterisation, Brecht remarks that naturalistic theatre continued to “intoxicate” spectators, as well as “supply them with illusions, help them forget the world, reconcile them with fate” (“On Experimental Theatre” 144). A naturalistic style of representation was mechanically imported from the West, making it contradictory to “the symbolism of the Indian heritage in drama,” as Anand Patil has put it (338). In classical Sanskrit drama, symbolism does not promote a naturalistic representation of the world. Although the naturalistic mode provided a respite from the melodramatic voice of Parsi theatre, it could offer neither a platform to the nativist to articulate the theatre traditions of India nor a stage to the revolutionaries to protest against the failures of the nation-state. Brechtian theatre, steeped in practices that were revolutionary, and which resembled the theatrical traditions of Indian theatre, presented itself as an alternative to naturalistic theatre. The Bengali theatre and IPTA Although Bengali satires, such as Michael Madhusudan Dutt’s Ekei Ki Bale Sabhyata (So This is Civilisation, 1860), were probably the first to engage with contemporary social themes, it was Dinabandhu Mitra’s Neel Darpan (Indigo Mirror, 1860) that confronted “social and political problems in a more realistic manner,” as Rustom Bharucha writes (Rehearsals 16). In brief, Neel Darpan, in a drastic contrast to any play that had come before it, depicted the tormented lives of the ryots, the tenant cultivators of rural Bengal, who were forced by mostly European planters to farm indigo. To articulate the victimisation of the ryots, the play focuses on the life of an Indian landowner, Golak Basu, and his family, showing how they were persecuted by two European planters, Mr. Wood and Mr. Rogue. The proletarian play explained two factors leading to the non-violent uprising of Indigo farmers against planters in 1859: dadan (the advanced payments made by the planters to the peasants that bound them to the planters for the duration of their lives) and the literal rapes of Bengali women as well as the symbolic rape of Mother India. Neel Darpan contributed immensely to Indian theatre in general and Bengali theatre, in particular. With its first production in 1872, it became “the first play in the history of the Bengali theatre that sold tickets to the public without discriminating against particular social class or caste,” according to

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  35

Bharucha (Rehearsals 19). The shift in spectatorship that Neel Darpan initiated would later be used by Brechtian productions in India. In India, where social class and caste play important roles, this counted as a dramatic transformation. The play was also the first instances, writes Bharucha, of “theatre as a political force confronting the British government,” as well as “the first attack on the Raj’s commercial exploitation and, indirectly, its political tyranny and disregard of human rights” (Bharucha, Rehearsals 17). Neel Darpan was likely the first realistic anti-imperialistic play in India, and one of the first instances in India when the peasant revolution was dramatised and debated by intellectuals. Neel Darpan heralded a tradition which fostered a new stage identity: No more a terrain monopolised by the rich, the stage became a site to ref lect upon contemporary social issues often related to the poor. The language in the play, unlike that used in the Natyasastra tradition, also represented a shift from archaic linguistic structures to something much more colloquial and contemporary. Avant-garde theatre activity in post-Independence Bengal continued to follow in the footsteps of Neel Darpan. After independence, a new Bengali theatre emerged “as an alternative to the purely entertainment-oriented commercial theatre” along the lines of Neel Darpan, writes Arundhati Banerjee, “commonly known as the ‘group theatre movement’” (Banerjee 2), an “offshoot of the Indian People’s Theatre Association” (2). This theatre was the first to produce a play of Brecht’s in India with its 1957 adaptation of The Exception and the Rule. Just four years later, the play was adapted by Soumitra Chattopadhyay, a popular Bengali theatre and film personality (Banerjee 3). These first productions of Brecht in Bengal, an Indian state considered to be the strongest hub of Marxism, highlighted Brecht’s potential in taking forth the mission started by Neel Darpan, namely the privileging of the voice of the people over the voice of the State, whether colonial or postcolonial. It gave a political voice to the people. Both people-oriented and subversive, Brechtian theatre was seen as the new face of the political theatre movement in India started by the IPTA. As the first organised national theatre movement, writes Bharucha, the IPTA also represented the first significant “reaction to the ‘cheap commercial glamour,’ ‘pseudo-aesthetic posturing,’ and ‘sobstuff ’ of the contemporary theater” (Rehearsals 40). It endeavoured to give rise to the people’s theatre, and in order to accomplish this mission, the IPTA, in its early stages, became the “folk theater of India, that rich and diverse field of primitive theatrical forms including the jatras, the tamashas, the kathakalas, the burrakathas, and the jarigans that f lourished in the rural areas of India” (Rehearsals 40), Bharucha has observed. After India’s independence in 1947, the IPTA also critically engaged with classical forms and function as a politically committed theatre, but its heyday was over. The subversive theatre form, once hailed as the most successful weapon against the British Raj, became a thorn in the side of the new government. In her study of the IPTA, Nandi Bhatia elaborates that at a time of nation building all cultural productions that appeared to be subversive or

36  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India

political were removed from government-funded cultural organisations, and that it is “no coincidence that at this juncture, the trends of New Criticism and modernism were taken to be ideally constituted for defining culture” (Acts of Authority 92). The Nehru administration’s decision to levy an entertainment tax on theatre slowed the growth of non-profit organisations like the IPTA and contributed to the IPTA’s ultimate decline. Although it dwindled in 1949, the IPTA left a legacy of political theatre in India. In the 1960s, some of its practitioners returned to the theatrical scene to give rise to another form of political theatre marked by the aesthetics of Brecht, meaning that Brechtian theatre in India owes a great contribution to the subversive aesthetics of the IPTA. But unlike the IPTA, which wanted to create a people’s theatre “by performing for the rural and the nonliterate public instead of a limited elite audience,” as theatre critic and scholar Nandi Bhatia has written (Acts of Authority 93), Brechtian theatre in India is primarily an urban political phenomenon restricted to cities like Delhi. Unlike IPTA’s productions, Brechtian productions are produced purely for urban audiences by urban actors (with the exception of Naya theatre, Habib Tanvir’s troupe) with the aim to interrogate the postcolonial state. Since this interrogation is limited to urban cities in India, its approach is not as widespread as the IPTA’s. But the politics of the IPTA impressed upon Indian theatre the need for engaging with contemporary social themes to understand the complexities of modern life. After the IPTA, the defining feature of Bengali theatre was its engagement with contemporary social and political themes. The IPTA represented the first time in the theatre history of India that theatre rose above the entertainment model and took the form of political theatre. This new theatre, with all its political energy, created the ideal cradle for Brecht. Theatre of Roots In April 1956, at a seminar organised by the Sangeet Natak Akademi (the National Academy of the Performing Arts),13 the participants collectively launched what has been called a “multidirectional attack on Parsi theatre” (Dharwadker, Theatres of Independence 39) to justify the battered state of urban Indian theatre. The seminar delineated two aims: to create a theatre inherently rooted in Indian theatre practices and performance theories, in contradistinction with Parsi theatre, and to promote preferential treatment of one form of linguistic lineage (Hindi) over the other (Urdu)14 as a reaction against the Urdu character of the Parsi theatre. In 1989, Suresh Awasthi, one of the 40 participants in the 1956 seminar, named this new theatre the “Theatre of Roots.”15 Awasthi described it as an unconventional theatre, which is a result of modern theatre’s encounter with tradition…It is deeply rooted in regional theatrical culture, but cuts across linguistic barriers, and an

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  37

all-India character in design…[This] return to and discovery of tradition is inspired by a search for roots and a quest for identity. (“Theatre of Roots” 48) According to Awasthi’s explanation, the Roots movement is both introspective and retrospective, seeking to recover past traditions in order to understand the contemporary world. Moreover, it participated in the whole process of “decolonization of lifestyle, social institutions, creative forms, and cultural modes” (“Theatre of Roots” 48). While supporting the preservation of indigenous traditions in India, the Roots movement also strives to “make a body of work that was different from modern European theatre, and different from traditional Indian performance,” writes Mee (“Decolonizing” 13). In the wake of this new nationalism, the movement’s body of work took the form of national theatre, a state-mediated form of theatre that facilitated theatrical practices of classical Sanskrit theatre. To carry out this agenda, the state-sponsored National School of Drama played a crucial role by strategically establishing Hindi as the language of theatre production, under the directorship of Ebrahim Alkazi. The Theatre of Roots primarily engaged with traditional genres that were classical and thus pointed towards a “Hinduised” version of history. Awasthi, the secretary of the Sangeet Natak Akademi, “instituted a system of aid and rewards to young directors who assimilated traditional genres into their modern productions,” explains Shayoni Mitra (Mitra 215). It was the formation of the AIPWA and the rise of Nehruvian socialism that led to the emergence of a new India. To articulate the values of this new India, a new political theatre was needed that could not only give voice to the indigenous ethos but would also keep India connected to the rest of the world. This new theatre was also expected to address the problems faced by common people. Brechtian theatre in India, also expected to articulate the anxieties and problems of everyday Indians, fundamentally differed from its Western counterpart, turning the history of inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics on Indian theatre into a history of nonconformity.

The Brechtian theatre: an overview Brechtian theatre emerged in the late 1920s as a revolt against culinary16 theatre. Culinary theatre, writes Brechtian scholar Martin Esslin, “oscillates between emotional uplift and after-dinner entertainment,” which he identified in Germany as that of Goethe and Schiller (Brecht: The Man 128). It was based on the Aristotelian concept of drama, which Esslin calls “the drama of catharsis by terror and pity, the drama of spectator-identification with the actors, the drama of illusion, which tries to create magical effects by conjuring up events which are represented as ‘totally present,’17 while probably they are not” (Esslin, Brecht: The Man 130). To Brecht, a conventional form of realism, represented by the theatre of illusion or in the works of Aristotle, seemed to

38  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India

hide more than it revealed. With Brechtian theatre emerged a new method of investigating reality based on the emerging science of Marxism.18 Brecht saw Marxism as the science of the new age; accordingly, he, referred to his theatre as the “theatre of the scientific age” (“Short Organon” 256). Between 1927 and 1933 Brecht’s Marxism formed a heterodox character as it shifted from behaviourist materialism to dialectics. Steve Giles emphasises this aspect of Brecht’s Marxism when he mentions that the “subsequent development of his Marxism in the Weimar Republic was strongly inf luenced by encounters with the sociologist Fritz Sternberg and the philosophers Otto Neurath and Karl Korsch” (“A New Theatre” 13). By underlining the inf luence of these philosophers who focused on different aspects of Marxism, Giles highlights the lack of a definite position towards Marxism in Brecht’s oeuvre between 1927 and 1933. Despite the presence of heterodoxy in Brecht’s Marxism, according to Giles, Brecht’s theatre after 1930 “moved in a more explicitly Marxist direction” (“A New Theatre” 14) and began paying “increasing attention to the economic structures of capitalist society and class struggle” (Giles, “A New Theatre” 14). In contrast to the new theatre of the 1930s, in the 1920s, Brecht’s Marxism was limited to “a strictly sociological approach to art in general and theatre in particular,” which sought to “abandon aesthetic and moral categories such as eternal value and the notion of an unchanging human nature” (“A New Theatre” 14). The move from behavioural materialism of the 1920s to the more explicit Marxist practice of class critique in the 1930s was responsible for constructing what Brecht called his dialectical theatre. Reinhold Grimm offers another interpretation of Brecht’s dialectical method, which he reads in the light of Hegel’s dialectics. Grimm remarks that the initial comprehension, which is “both imperfect and incomplete” resembles a Hegelian thesis. This initial partial understanding gives way to a temporary “total incomprehension,” and thus equals a Hegelian antithesis. In turn, the total incomprehension provokes the “final and genuine comprehension, which is tantamount to a Hegelian synthesis or a Hegelian ‘sublation’ (Aufhebung)” (42). In other words, the Brechtian method first presents the audience with the familiar so that we can enjoy the assumption that we have understood the world. It then renders this familiar world unfamiliar and challenges our naïve assumptions. Finally, it pushes the audience to critically combine these experiences, thus arriving at a true understanding. The Brechtian method seeks to sensitise actors as well as the audiences to certain ways of interpreting reality. Brechtian theatre thus engages in a dialectical investigation of reality rather than offering morals to the audience. It aims to narrate incidents that can assist the audiences to make decisions on their own: the Brechtian playwright “would treat the moral question as a historical one too,” and try to understand the utility of a particular moral system “within a particular social order, observe the way it functions, and arrange the sequence of incidents so as to explain how the moral system works” (Brecht, Brecht on Performance 41). The Brechtian method relies on certain staging techniques to execute its

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  39

plan of investigating reality so that it can deconstruct Aristotelian elements of catharsis, which are based on empathy – namely, feelings of being “totally present,” organic unity, the individual and emotional gestures of characters, and structures reaffirming status quo, otherwise known as Verfremdungseffekt, montage, Gestus, and Fabel. Verfremdungseffekt19 To create his new non-Aristotelian theatre, Brecht wanted first to jolt the audiences out of the grip of empathy that leads them into catharsis. To achieve this, he created a device called Verfremdungseffekt, which the theatre scholar Laura Bradley explains as a “method of provoking critical ref lection and prompting spectators to question phenomena which they usually take for granted” (7). Brechtian plays through Verfremdungseffekt succeed in provoking a sense of critical awareness in the audiences so that they fail to empathise with the actors. The term Verfremdungseffekt has been misunderstood by some Brechtian scholars on account of the uncertainty as to whether or not the alienation refers to a total emotional alienation of the audience. The term is often thought to imply alienating the audiences of all emotions, however, Bradley writes, “it does not imply any rejection of emotion. The characters in epic theatre experience the full range of emotions, and Brecht simply wants the spectator to retain sufficient critical detachment to analyze their emotions” (7). The term Verfremdungseffekt is also often confused with two other words – Entfremdung and Befremdung – that share the same root word “fremd” and suffix “dung.” Grimm unravels the mystery behind them: Entfremdung refers to the “state of alienation,” while Verfremdung stands for the “device or act of alienation.” Unlike Entfremdung, which is a “passive experience,” Verfremdung denotes an “active experience.” Befremdung refers to the “result of alienation” which inspires within the audience new insights and eventually, a feeling to take action and thus, it is both a “passive and an active experience” (43). One of the common ways Brecht alienated the audience was through either a spoken or sung narrative, related to the term “epic theatre” in which the epic refers to a narrative in verse or prose. The epic is further associated with narratives that privilege actions over characters, such as the Homeric epic as opposed to Greek tragedy. Besides distancing the audiences from the events on the stage, Verfremdungseffekt deconstructs the Aristotelian idea of being “totally present” by historicising events (Brecht, “Verfremdung Effects” 156). This is, achieved, as Brecht explains, through “the music (choruses, songs) and the setting (placards, etc.)” and was “principally designed to historicize the incidents portrayed” (“Verfremdung Effects” 156), writes Brecht, thus dismantling the timelessness of objects emphasised by bourgeois theatre. In Brecht’s 1938 essay “The Street Scene,” Brecht goes further in detailing his intentions, writing that the “object of this ‘effect’ is to allow the spectator to criticize

40  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India

constructively from a social point of view” (180–181). The Verfremdungseffekt is used to question the system that turns the social phenomenon into mysteries. It dislodges the Aristotelian model, with its insistence on empathy and the creation of a “totally present” feeling. With the usage of the Verfremdungseffekt, Brecht replaced the conventional representation of political issues with politicised representation. This aspect of Brechtian theatre, which focused on radicalising aesthetics, set it apart from other forms of political theatre in India. The Verfremdungseffekt helped the audience to make a connection with the larger aesthetic model of the play rather than get carried away by sentimental issues. Montage In Poetics, Aristotle writes, “The parts of the actions performed ought to be organized in such a way that, when any part is displaced or removed, the whole becomes something different and changes. For that which makes no noticeable difference when it is there or not there is no part of the whole” (Aristotle 31–32). In other words, the organic whole is more important than its individual parts. Unlike Aristotelian theatre, however, Brechtian theatre presents scenes with autonomy, with every scene conceived as an organic whole. To achieve this wholeness, Brecht embraces the device of montage.20 The primary reason for using montage in a work of art is well documented by Sergei Eisenstein, who wrote that the “spectator not only sees the represented elements of the finished work, but also experiences the dynamic process of the emergence and assembly of the image just as it was experienced by the author” (32). Each scene in Brechtian performance functions as a tableau, demonstrating both a montage of contradictory perspectives along with a thorough analysis of the socio-economic conditions behind them. Each scene presents the movement of a dialectic in the form of thesis and antithesis, meaning that, in Brechtian performance, every scene can also be seen as montage. The presence of montage offers a conscious investigation of dramatic material and fossilised reality while simultaneously underlining an important element of epic theatre, namely its analytical approach. Brecht juxtaposes contradictory images in each scene in the form of “a tableau for the spectator to criticize” (Barthes, Image 75), as Roland Barthes has observed. Every tableau presents a complete picture and thus remains autonomous on its own, Barthes writes: Brecht indicated clearly that in epic theatre (which proceeds by successive tableaux) all the burden of meaning and pleasure bears on each scene, not on the whole. At the level of the play itself, there is no development, no maturation; there is indeed an ideal meaning (given straight in every tableau), but there is no final meaning, nothing but a series of segmentations each of which possesses a sufficient demonstrative power. (Barthes, Image 72)

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  41

This kind of autonomy cannot be seen in naturalistic theatre, where every scene strives to cohere so that the full effect of the narrative is felt as a whole, rather than through individual scenes. Beyond allowing the spectator to criticise contradictory images, these pictorial images, or tableaux, also give the audience a chance to engage more dynamically with the theatre. As Brecht explains, the audience can create “in its mind additional situations and ways of behaving, and, while still following the plot, compares them to what the theatre presents. In this way the audience itself is transformed into a storyteller” (Brecht, “Dialectical Theatre” 284). By transforming conventional scenes into tableaux of contradictory images, Brechtian theatre challenged the Aristotelian model of organic whole and managed to provide agency to the audience. Gestus In Aristotelian theatre, the theatre director expresses the individuality and psychology of characters through their gestures. In Brechtian theatre, however, the gestures of characters – what Brecht calls Gestus – show the relationship between their bodies and social structures. For Brecht, Gestus marks the means by which Brechtian theatre shifts from a demonstration of the psychological emotion of characters to a social emotion embedded in the plot. In this sense, Gestus establishes a “visible connection” between “the actor’s body,” writes David Barnett and its relationship with “social contexts” (Brecht in Practice 95). In Brechtian theatre, the body of the actor becomes a voice to be reckoned with.21 By using Gestus to assert the connection between the body of the actor and larger social contexts, Brecht demonstrates how gestures are not an articulation of the characters’ inner selves but rather a manifestation of the effect of social structures on their bodies. This means that for Brecht, gestures voice the effect of ideology perpetuated through social structures on the human body. By showing this relationship between the individual and society, Brecht questions the naturalness of gestures. If Gestus highlights the unnaturalness of naturalness then the primary aim of gestic theatre is, writes Barnett, “to show the interrelationship between individual and society in order to dispel a sense that people behave ‘naturally’ in or independently of any given situation” (Barnett, Brecht in Practice 96). In other words, Gestus presents both the dialogue between the individual and the society as well as the contradictoriness of this dialogue. Since individual psychology is dependent on social dynamics, Brechtian theatre requires that actors distance themselves from their characters in order that they might reveal the socio-economic conditions that have shaped their psychology. For Brecht, to accept what is considered natural at face value is to accept the ideology of dominant groups. Through Gestus, writes Mumford, Brecht presents “one or all of the following: social(ized) gesticulation as opposed to psychological facial expression; contextualized and alterable comportment; and the rhetorical crafted

42  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India

gestures of a performer” (54). Mumford further explains that the expression “show the Gestus” artistically presents “the mutable socio-economic and ideological construction of human behaviour and relations” (54). Gestus disrupts the Aristotelian idea of the emotional individualism of characters by underlining the super-purpose of the plot rather than the characters’ objectives. However, it reaffirms another theory of Aristotle’s, namely the dominance of plot over characters. Grimm notes that this is the only element in Brechtian theatre where Brecht acknowledged “his adherence to Aristotelian principles,” which privilege plot over character portrayal (39). Despite their similar approaches in regards to plot, the function of the plot is perceived differently by Aristotle and Brecht. Brecht’s plot is a sequence of contradictions underlying socio-economic conditions, which Brecht emphasises by almost negating the existence of his characters. In Brecht, characters continuously lose their individuality to articulate the higher voice of social and economic forces. Aristotelian characters, though also dependent on plot, still hold sway over their individuality. Fabel Brechtian theatre presents an interpretational retelling of the old narrative with the aim of bringing out contradictions in the narrative. As Barnett has explained, the role of Fabel is to interpret “fictional events through the lens of real social contradictions” (Brecht in Practice 89), while Arrangement describes the “the visual representation of the Fabel on stage” (Brecht in Practice 90). The purpose of every Brechtian performance is to present the Arrangement as “a tableau that makes the social relations on stage readable for an audience. This is a way for contradictions to be clearly articulated so that the audience can understand the nature of the tensions” (Brecht in Practice 90), continues Barnett. In “The Street Scene,” Brecht accentuated the social relevance of performance, stating that “the demonstration should have a socially practical significance” (177). Fabel plays an important role in highlighting the contradiction in the plot, and thus challenges the status quo. Brecht’s idea of Lehrstücke (usually translated as either “didactic plays” or “learning plays”)22 is one of the most creative and revolutionary experiments in theatre history. Discussing the difference between Lehrstücke and epic theatre, Roswitha Mueller writes: “while the theoretical and practical purpose of Brecht’s epic theatre was to work with democratic ideals under the conditions of capitalist societies bringing bourgeois ideology to bear upon its own presuppositions, the historical basis for the Lehrstück [sic] is a society in transition to socialism” (“Learning for a New Society” 104). The experiment of Lehrstücke was carried out to turn the passive consumers of the theatre into active producers.23 Brecht accomplished this task by creating a theatre that was meant only for the actors. As a concept, Lehrstücke was used to

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  43

instruct the actors politically rather than for presentation on a stage in front of the spectators.24 The disavowal of spectators also signals Brecht’s ultimate rejection of the bourgeois apparatus, and in turn its values. To inculcate revolutionary consciousness and dialectical thinking in the actors (who are also the audiences), they perform different roles in the same play, forcing them to ref lect on their situation. If Aristotle represents emotion, then Brecht is reason. All the key concepts in Brechtian theatre show how reason can be used to revolutionise both the stage and society. Brecht’s focus on reason, executed through a range of dramatic devices, changes the traditional definition of theatre. Brechtian theatre, equipped with a wide array of alienating devices, stages not “what” happens but “how” it happens. It provokes the audiences to ref lect on the given situation and draw their own conclusions rather than letting them slip into an escapist fantasy that maintains the status quo. The term “scientific” in the context of Brecht has been derived from the radicalised Enlightenment of Marxism, which advocated for a scientific understanding and explanation of history as a means of political change. Brechtian theatre is the “theatre of the scientific age” since it turns the audiences and actors into active producers rather than passive consumers. This ability to highlight the social and economic forces that shape people and their gestures, while presenting a yawning gap between the bourgeoisie and the workers, is what made Brechtian theatre apt for socialist democracies like India.

Brechtian theatre in India: a definition Indian theatre directors privileged certain concepts of Brecht’s corpus, rather than exploring its whole length and breadth, since the postcolonial condition of India made some aspects of Brechtian theatre more relevant than others. By disavowing many of the European concepts of Brechtian theatre, Brechtian theatre in India presented the site of inf luence as a space of questioning and appropriation. This distinguishes Brechtian theatre in Europe from its Indian counterpart, which challenged the hierarchical frameworks of purity and originality and developed a hybrid approach. Explaining hybridity, Homi Bhabha calls it “the name for the strategic reversal of the process of domination through disavowal (that is, the production of discriminatory identities that secure the ‘pure’ and original identity of authority)” (The Location 159). These directorial choices were dependent on the needs of the postcolonial nation: that is, Indian directors privileged practices that both assisted in nation building (based on the idea of Nehruvian socialism) and highlighted the socio-economic conditions of the time. The new conditions that arose after independence demanded a theatre that could interrogate the social processes that lead to fragmentation and exploitation. Brecht provided an answer to India’s postcolonial search for a new performance medium

44  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India

because in Brechtian theatre, explained Brecht himself, “the spectators are welcomed into the theatre as those who change the world rather than accept it, who intervene in natural and social processes in order to master them” (Brecht, “On Experimental Theatre” 144). Indian theatre directors wanted theatre practices that were relevant to their postcolonial world. This can also be credited to the fact that Asian countries faced a different set of conditions than European countries in their path to modernization in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The Indian variant of Brechtian theatre underlined its pharmakonic nature and lack of fixed essence. It asserted Brechtian theatre as an active site of inf luence, one which negotiated existing theatrical traditions. Brechtian theatre in India developed as the result of three such negotiations. First, it resisted the Aristotelian system of Parsi theatre, meeting an urgent need to create a new performance tradition that challenged the commercial and spectacle formation model of Parsi theatre, which introduced Western theatrical practices to India. Second, Brechtian theatre in India protested against naturalistic theatre, responding to the country’s call for a theatre that could articulate postcolonial political identity rather than adhere to the fourth-wall illusionism of 1930s-era Indian naturalistic theatre. Finally, India’s Brechtian theatre challenged the Roots movement, which had sought to develop a theatre that was continuously in transaction with the diverse performance traditions of India. It focused on celebrating diversity, rather than remain fixed to one performance tradition embodied by the Natyasastra or represented by the Roots movement in the 1950s. These entwined strands of Indian theatrical and cultural history present a starting point for understanding the characteristics of Brechtian theatre in the context of performance. Writing on Brechtian theatre, Vasudha Dalmia explains that “‘why Brecht’ can provide us with an answer to the ‘how Brecht’” (Dalmia-Lüderitz, “Brecht in Hindi” 59). This is especially true with regard to Indian Brechtian theatre. One should approach Brecht in the Indian context is by answering the question “why” Brecht is adopted in the first place and “why” his theatre was considered appropriate to articulate the socio-political conditions of the country. The primary reason for a shift in performance practices was the formation of the AIPWA in 1936 (which eventually led to the founding of the IPTA in 1943) and the emergence of Nehruvian socialism after independence in 1947. Both these events remained responsible for the surge in socialist cultural patterns and theatrical practices in India. Indian directors resisted Parsi Theatre and its Aristotelian dramaturgy and interrupted two other dominant theatre conventions of postcolonial India  – naturalistic theatre and the Roots movement – to construct Brechtian theatre. The interweaving threads of Brechtian theatre and indigenous performance practices emphasise the difference between the Indian and European variant of Brechtian theatre, reinforcing the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre.

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  45

Interrupting the Parsi theatre Unlike the Aristotelian dramaturgy ref lected in the plays of the Parsi theatre, Brechtian productions interrupt the linear f low of the plot and thus force the audience to critically ref lect on their socio-economic conditions and deliberate how these conditions can be changed. The Indian variant of Brechtian theatre interrupts the Aristotelian system of the Parsi theatre through the use of three techniques, namely sutradhar as Verfremdungseffekt, music as alienation, and metatheatrical settings. The presence of these three strategies, which are distinct to India, help endow Brechtian theatre in India with its uniqueness and point to the ambivalence and non-essentialism of Brechtian theatre. Sutradhar as Verfremdungseffekt Brechtian theatre is steeped in the view that “the changeability of the world stands on its contradictoriness” (“Dialectical Theatre” 284), writes Brecht. These conditions are created in Brechtian productions by rupturing the illusion of realism through Verfremdungseffekt.25 Brecht underlines the purpose of this effect in “The Street Scene,” writing that the purpose of this “effect” is to permit the audience to critique a performance from “a social point of view” (181). Explicating how Verfremdungseffekt ruptures the f low of the narrative, Fredric Jameson argues that …the familiar or habitual is reidentified as the ‘natural’, and its estrangement unveils that appearance, which suggests the changeless and the eternal as well, and shows the object to be instead ‘historical,’ to which may be added, as a political corollary, made or constructed by human beings, and thus able to be changed by them as well, or replaced altogether. (40) Jameson argues that the historicity of the object unveiled by Brechtian theatre underscores that the so-called “natural” is man-made. This historicity, per Jameson, points towards the changeability of the world, meaning it can be changed by human beings. Brechtian theatre highlights this change by making audiences critically ref lect on the social conditions without letting them slip into the sentimental narrative and “spectacular plot” of Parsi theatre. But how? On the Indian stage, the most common device for interrupting the coordination of the plot, and in turn interrupting the audience is the “sutradhar,”26 a popular mechanism designed to interrupt the linear f low of the narrative. Sutradhar is an indigenous Indian performance trope. It draws a plethora of definitions, but at its most elemental means “a character who manages the various ‘strands’ of a performance, mediates actively between play, actor, and spectator, and addresses the audience directly” (Dharwadker, Theatres of

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Independence 39). The device is generally hailed as well-suited for Brechtian productions. But how can such a deep-seated convention of “Indian” dramaturgy, however disruptive it looks from a “Western” normative perspective, still be a force for disruption when redeployed in a “Brechtian” setting in modern India? Namely, because the sutradhar which was supposedly an integral part of performance practices in pre-colonial India is different from the sutradhar of postcolonial India used in Brechtian productions. In Brechtian productions, the sutradhar is a site of political intent. Theatrical directors take recourse in this device for its usefulness in alienating audiences. It can be considered an important device in Brechtian theatre on account of its remarkable combination of demonstration (i.e., a character in a play who demonstrates to other characters and spectators) and objectivity (as in a Greek Chorus, wherein incidents are narrated objectively to the audience). The point is not to keep referring to something stably Indian but to understand how the Indianness of sutradhar becomes one component in the production of cultural forms which have a clear political intent. Sutradhar is redeployed as a modern avatar, a type of “demonstrator” which comes close to aligning with Brecht’s idea of the storyteller. Literary scholar Peter Szondi differentiates between earlier drama, which he calls “absolute drama,” and modern drama on the basis of a uniform signifying system. For Szondi, unlike earlier drama, modern drama debunks the existence of any uniform perspective or signifying system which could unite the experiencing subject with the world around him. It is precisely this absence or breakdown of communication channels between the experiencing subject and the surrounding world that led to the reinvention of the epic narrator, or what Szondi calls “the epic I” (45) in modern theatre. Rather than Szondi’s term, however, the term “demonstrator” it fits more closely with the Brechtian idea of theatre as an act of demonstration. The idea of theatre as “demonstration” is a founding notion of Brecht’s theory of epic theatre: an eyewitness demonstrating to a collection of people how a traffic accident took place. The bystanders may not have observed what happened, or they may simply not agree with him, may ‘see things a different way’; the point is that the demonstrator acts the behaviour of driver or victim or both in such a way that the bystanders are able to form an opinion about the accident. (Brecht, “The Street Scene” 176) Like the “demonstrator” in Brechtian theatre, the sutradhar in the Indian context demonstrates the characters, rather than embodies them. The “demonstrating aspect” of sutradhar challenges the spectacle model of Parsi theatre by challenging the audiences from getting submerged in the linear plot. Brechtian practitioners in India reworked the device of sutradhar, once prevalent in classical Sanskrit drama, by adapting it for political purposes. This shift points

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  47

towards inf luence as the space where both Indian and Brechtian performance practices are recalibrated and revised. This ability of inf luence to subvert notions of essentialism can be further evidenced in music. Music as alienation In Parsi theatre, songs, according to Gupt, “did nothing to advance the plot or characterization,” (182) but rather remained more appealing and spectacular than the action of the play. However, in Brechtian performance, “songs interrupt the dramatic action,” as pointed out by Bradley (5), and thus present another way of defamiliarising the audience and interrupting the linear narrative. In this sense, songs in Brechtian productions are also antithetical to traditional Indian theatrical forms and folk theatres, where songs, writes Dalmia-Lüderitz, “serve to highlight a moment already apparent in the play. They do not exist independently but as part of the overall tone of the play. Considered from the rasa aspect, they can of course be regarded as contributing to the creation of a dominant state” (“Brecht in Hindi” 67). This difference between indigenous forms and the form of Brechtian theatre can be attributed to the political nature of Brechtian performance, which enables the audience to understand the social milieu in order to improve it by enacting changes. For a performance to be Brechtian in the Indian context, it needs to hamper the formation of rasa, which comes close to the Western idea of linearity. Literally, rasa means “sap/essence”; writes intercultural studies scholar Rosa Gómez, “the origin of the term rasa must be searched for in the Rg Vedic literature, where it has the meaning of ‘juice,’” the juice of a plant: soma, the Gods’ nectar or elixir (Gómez 107). According to Bharata,27 it is rasa that binds the play, and the primary purpose of ancient Sanskrit theatre is its creation. Bharata devoted an entire chapter of the Natyasastra to expounding the point that Indian dramaturgy circles around rasa, or sentiment, which was propounded as the essence of drama. Importantly, the birth of rasa takes place when the Sthayibhava (static emotions) in the individual are awakened by his perception of the Vibhavas (determinants), Anubhavas (consequents), Vyabhicaribhavas (transitory), and Sattvic bhavas (responsive). In a play well-constructed from the perspective of Indian aesthetic theory, all the elements (music, plot, acting, etc.) of the play facilitate the formation of rasa. If rasa is central to the idea of a well-constructed Sanskrit play in India, then linearity is integral to the Western concept of a well-constructed play. For a performance to be considered Brechtian, it needs to challenge both the idea of Western linearity and Indian rasa. Music, with the sole purpose of providing commentary, ruptures the f low of both, making it one of the most important tools used in Brechtian theatre. Expounding upon the theory of rasa in the context of a fool, Lothar Lutze comments that “it is for the vidhushaka [fool in the classical Sanskrit drama] to ‘spoil’ rasa so that, after this

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intervention, another moment of extreme pleasure can be built up” (“Enacting” 217). In other words, dialogue spoken by a fool in a classical Sanskrit play postpones the formation of rasa. In fact, the fool generates liberation through laughter rather than liberation through rasa (Lutze, “Enacting” 216). The narrative songs in Indian productions of Brecht function like the fool of classical Sanskrit drama in their ability to disrupt the f low of rasa. Songs with built-in social commentaries helped achieve what Brecht calls the Verfremdungseffekt, a “method of provoking critical ref lection and prompting spectators to question phenomena which they usually take for granted” (Bradley 7). A Brechtian production succeeds in “de-automatizing the audience’s attention” (Schwarz 85) through the Verfremdungseffekt of music and thus manages to provoke a sense of critical awareness. In the hands of Brechtian practitioners, music interrupted rasa-formation, showing how in Indian Brechtian theatre, all essential and absolute definitions are subverted and undermined. Metatheatre settings Under the new postcolonial conditions of India, practitioners sought a theatre that could help build a nation. The spectacular stage design of the Parsi theatre was seen as lacking a purpose, and the stage design of Brechtian theatre in India developed largely as a reaction against it. In Parsi theatre, “painted curtains which dropped from pulleys according to the action were used in every play” (Gupt 176) in juxtaposition to traditional Indian theatre,28 describes Gupt, often decorated with scenes of palaces, gardens, jungles, or camps (176). What made Parsi theatre even more spectacular, writes Kathryn Hansen, was “the use of the European-style proscenium with richly painted backdrop curtains and trick stage effects” (“Foreword” vii). Spectacle remained a very important feature in emphasising the superhuman qualities of kings and gods in Parsi plays. Discussing these effects, Anuradha Kapur, an Indian theatre scholar, describes how it was “possible to attempt a Sudarshan Chakra [spinning disk-like weapon], or f lying beds, or pyres with strips of red paper, red lights and fans” (“The Representation of Gods and Heroes” 105). Another theatre scholar, Vasudha Dalmia-Lüderitz has emphasized the historical and sociological context of the plays, which were “set within the conservative ideological framework of the emerging urban middle classes in England, … [and] manipulated emotions, created pleasurable suspense and appeased social tension” (“Brecht in Hindi” 61). This intensified the need for spectacular designs. The original stage design of Parsi theatre, based on the eighteenth-century English model, was discarded because it remained steeped in colonial conventions of stage design. In Indian Brechtian theatre, the elaborate stage setting of the Parsi theatre was replaced as a means of providing commentary, rather than spectacle.29 Considering how Brechtian performance defies the formation of spectacle, one can argue that the overall aim of Brechtian performance is to advance a

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  49

critical way of rethinking social reality. The Indian director and playwright Habib Tanvir theorised that for “us to be more Brechtian…would mean that we have to be more Indian” (quoted in Rea 60). But to be more Brechtian not only implies being more Indian, but also more political in the Brechtian sense, which relies on the dialectical method. While there were many instances of political engagement in Indian theatre before the emergence of Brechtian aesthetics, these instances differed from Brecht’s for not being Gestic realist. The purpose of Gestic realism is to present the subject through a dialectical lens, a task that is often accomplished through stage settings designed to be metatheatrical – meaning, that provide commentary on the play and break the illusion of the fourth wall. One popular way of breaking the illusion is through “mobile” sets like the revolving stage used by Brecht, who believed that stage sets needed to be active participants in the play. Brecht notes in the post-script of his essay, “Stage Design for the Epic Theatre,” that “The theatre must acquire qua theatre the same fascinating reality as a sporting arena during a boxing match. The best thing is to show the machinery, the ropes and the f lies” (Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic 233).30 As practical tools to break the spell of theatrical illusion, stage sets helped in the construction of Brechtian theatre. Utpal Dutt, an early proponent of the people’s theatre in India, explains that the stage sets should “take part” in the performance. The chief task in front of the theatre director is to make the sets “mobile” (30). For Dutt, the movement of the stage sets signifies action. He notes, “the bourgeoisie does not want, for example, action. They are afraid of action” (30). Dutt also contextualises this idea in relation to Brecht’s idea of stage sets when he declares that sets must follow “the proletarian revolutionary concept of art” by highlighting the changeability of the present moment (30). Thus, stage sets should make use of what “Brecht calls ‘staunen’” (Dutt 31), astonishing the audience so that they feel alienated. Besides mobile stage sets, stage scenery is also used in Brechtian productions to astonish and alienate the audience so that they are prevented from empathising with the actors on the stage. Because the emergence of Brechtian theatre in India was directly related to Parsi theatre, its objectives, which naturally affected its poetics, differed from its European counterpart. The second objective of Brechtian theatre in India sought to articulate the dilemmas and anxieties of the postcolonial nation. Since naturalistic theatre failed in this task, Brechtian practitioners sought a different dramaturgy that remained largely anti-naturalistic. This second objective remained specific to India and thus offered a unique identity to the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre. Anti-naturalistic theatre Having considered the primary characteristic of naturalistic theatre in the history of modern Indian theatre, we are left with several questions: Did

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the post-independence Indian theatre directors seek an illusionistic theatre like this? If not, then what form of theatre did they pursue? With its focus on personal family problems and relationships between men and women, (Dimitrova 12) naturalistic theatre in India was not effective in finding a solution to the postcolonial dilemma faced by the nation. Indian playwrights sought a theatre that could articulate the nation’s dilemmas and provide help in nation building. It was this quest that took them away from the subjective acting style of naturalistic theatre, which was based on psychological realism. In looking for a dialectical style of acting, Indian theatre practitioners found an alternative to naturalistic theatrical forms in Brechtian theatre. The Gestic style of acting offered them a new form that could voice the conditions of postcolonial India. “Gestic” style of acting Indian theatre director Amal Allana discusses acting methodologies in the context of the basic contradiction in the existence of two selves – the character and the actor – within the body and mind of one single actor. She breaks down acting methodologies in post-independence India into three parts. The first one is naturalistic, based on Konstantin Stanislavski’s idea of acting, which “proposes that the two selves be reconciled so completely, superimposed on one another so carefully, that they merge into one seamless identity where neither is distinguishable from the other” (Allana, “The Power” 56), writes Allana. This style of acting was institutionalised by the National School of Drama.31 The second one is Indian, and has the opposite purpose to “entirely separate the two persons, drain the personal self of its identity and then allow the character to enter this emptied-out vessel or patra. This approach does not call for the actor to be personally involved in the depiction of the role at all” (Allana, “The Power” 56). Contextualising the Indian style of acting with regard to the Svang, the folk theatre of North India, Dalmia-Lüderitz like Allana, believes that [t]he player in the svang makes no attempt to identify totally with the figure in the play and in costume and manner preserves the characteristics of his own person, he accepts the role of the figure he is playing and attempts to fit the role. This is said to conform to the concept of the player as patra, a vessel, merely conveying the role to the spectator. ( Dalmia-Lüderitz, “Brecht in Hindi” 66) This style remained an integral part of nationalist movements like the Roots movement. The third acting methodology in post-independence India, writes Allana: draws substantially from Indian and eastern performance traditions, proposes to allow all the identities to be shown. In effect, besides the two

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identities which include the actor himself and the character he plays, is a third, which is the ‘actor as performer’. These identities can be shown openly and frankly as existing parallel to each other…. But it is perhaps Brecht who can be considered one of the earliest theorists to propose a postmodernist approach, not only to acting, but to all aspects of performance language. (Allana, “The Power” 56) This third style of acting, which Allana associates with Brecht, stands in stark contrast to the first style of acting, which is naturalistic. For Brecht, naturalistic drama harbours illusions through an invisible fourth wall, enhanced through the naturalistic style of acting. Brecht’s style of acting, with its emphasis on dispelling illusions, answered the questions sought by Indian dramatists as they struggled to evaluate postcolonial dilemmas and anxieties. The choice of the Brechtian style of acting over the other two styles of acting can be further understood in light of the Brechtian theory of Gestus. As a distancing device between the actor and the character, Gestus, writes Roland Barthes, plays an important role “to cut the circuit between the actor and his own pathos, but it is also, and essentially, to re-establish a new circuit between the role and the argument; it is, for the actor, to give meaning to the play, and no longer to himself in the play” (Barthes, “Seven Photo Models of Mother Courage” 44). In other words, Gestus as an apparatus can compel actors to seek out the “super-purpose” of the play rather than the “purpose” of the characters they portray, which is what the directors who decided to critically engage with Brecht set out to accomplish. To these Indian theatre practitioners, the Brechtian style of acting privileged the objective purpose of the play over the character and thus remained apt in articulating their postcolonial dilemma. Angelika Hurwicz, an actor of the Berliner Ensemble, further elucidates the role played by Gestus when she says that Brecht’s Gestus: “is aimed against actors who forget about their super-task, who only see their own parts, and who offend against the content of the play as a whole, even when they give their parts interesting details and great acting ability” (cited in Witt 133). It is clear in both Barthes’ analysis and Hurwicz’s testimony how Gestus continuously reminds the actor of its existence as a substructure within the larger historical structure of the play. Brechtian performance highlights characters as bio-mechanical, pointing towards the socio-economic conditions of the society32 that thus remain explainable by historical factors. This feature allowed Indian playwrights to illustrate how the conditions of the people were alterable, since they themselves were the product of history. Gestus further affirms Brechtian theatre as a political theatre, connected to the living conditions of the people and indicating how they can be improved. The second attribute of Brechtian performance is to espouse the Gestic style of acting, in contrast to naturalistic styles of representation. As Gestic

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styles of acting in India developed as the consequence of the postcolonial nation’s urge to articulate itself, it differed from the European variant, reshaping the poetics and politics of Brechtian theatre in India in resistance to the Roots movement. Resisting the Roots movement The nationalist theatre inspired by the Roots movement failed to give space to diverse performance traditions. As Mee has argued, “by returning to their roots in ritual, popular entertainment, classical dance, Sanskrit aesthetic theory, and the Sanskrit plays of Kalidasa and Bhasa (c. 400 CE)” practitioners of Indian nationalist theatre “were trying to place themselves back in a tradition that they saw as having been disrupted by colonialism, a tradition from which they had been cut off ” (Mee, “Decolonizing” 27–28). The artists behind the Theatre of Roots wanted theatre in India to be placed squarely back in the tradition of Natyasastra (Awasthi, “Theatre of Roots” 48). The most debated contention levied against the Roots movement is that the pre-modern forms that it tried to revive are primarily Sanskrit, and thus the movement remains Hindu and Hindi-centric. Compartmentalising pre-modern forms on the basis of communal and linguistic character marred India’s multi-cultural heritage. The movement’s reliance on the Natyasastra or rasa theory, as mentioned assisted the nation in creating its own brand of nationalism. As the tenthcentury theoretician Abhinavagupta’s explained rasa, “both the mystical and the aesthetic experience imply the cessation of the world – the ordinary historical world, the samsara – and its sudden replacement by a new dimension of reality” (cited in Chakrabarty, Provincializing 174). Rather than letting the audience slip into this magical or transcendental world of rasa, created to infuse spectators with a sense of nationalist belonging, the purpose of Brechtian theatre is to continuously remind the audience that they are positioned in the historical world. Though the Roots movement challenged some of the Western values of Parsi theatre, the voice that it articulated remained limited to Hindu traditional genres and the Hindi language. The Roots movement narrated the Indian self with a particular version of history that often remained selective in its representation. In writing off the cultural contribution of Parsi theatre to the theatrical history of India, the movement erased almost a century of cultural history. In its penchant to return to the Natyasastra tradition, the Roots movement – with the help of rasa aesthetics – re-conceived of nationalism as an imagined community, redefining India into what Benedict Anderson calls as “an imagined political community” (6). In the absence of any history of colonial theatre, the theatre of roots rewrote the connection between postcolonial and pre-colonial traditions. Since the beginning, Brechtian theatre in India resisted the aesthetics and politics of the Roots movement, whose politics

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  53

emanated from the dismissal of the desire to recover pre-modern forms as a postcolonial fantasy. The commitment of the Roots movement to return to pre-colonial roots was steeped in postcolonial scholarship, where postcolonial discourses dismantle the universals of colonial discourse by creating their own (Chakrabarty, Provincializing 5). Instead, Brechtian theatre acknowledges the presence of contradictory traditions (both precolonial and colonial) and assimilates them into its corpus, resisting the Roots movement using two dramaturgical strategies, namely the dialectical use of indigenous tradition and multi-linguistic narratives. This is done in the aim of alienating the audience so that they can critically think about their conditions. Dialectical use of indigenous tradition According to David Barnett, the Brechtian method is a “dialectical investigation of dramatic material” (Brecht in Practice 84), and a “way of approaching the representation of reality” (Brecht in Practice 110). Barnett proposes the definition of Brechtian method as an interpretation of reality in proximity with the dialectician’s idea of reality as “the result of processes in which contradictory demands struggle with each other” (Brecht in Practice 103). In light of Barnett’s definition, one can see in the Indian context that indigenous traditions are invoked in Brechtian productions to demonstrate to the audiences the dialectics33 of the world rather than with the primary agenda of preserving indigenous theatrical traditions. This strategy of using indigenous material stands in contrast to the Roots movement,34 wherein the writer returns to the indigenous traditions to regain his “Indianness” and in the process preserve these traditions. Indigenous traditions incorporated into Brechtian productions in India are not produced primarily for the entertainment of urban audiences, but to impel the audience towards critical analysis through alienation effects.35 They are not designed to make the urban audiences nostalgic, but to make them ref lect. Multi-linguistic narratives By mixing languages or dialects, Brechtian production highlights India’s diversity. Brechtian performance cuts across linguistic lines to bridge the gap that divides Indian theatre into communal groups. Linguistically, Brechtian productions remain closer to Parsi theatre, recognized for its “high incidence of multilingualism” (Hansen 384), than the Theatre of Roots, which failed to acknowledge the f luidity of Indian languages. Unlike the Roots movement, which remained Hindi-centric, Brechtian productions are performed in Hindustani (a mix of Hindi and Urdu) or in regional languages. The use of regional variants of a standard language or the mixing of two languages can force audiences to ref lect critically on the socio-economic conditions of people who engage with a different dialect or language. Thus, the third characteristic of Brechtian theatre is its ability to emulate the cultural

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diversity of India and its performance traditions. By embracing this diversity, Brechtian theatre in India again diverged from the European variant. Although Brechtian theatre avoids the intemperate commercialism of Parsi theatre, the culturalism and violence of nationalist movements such as the Roots movement, and the illusionistic practices of Indian naturalistic theatre, it does not discard them in their entirety. Rather, it perennially negotiates and re-negotiates with them. Brechtian theatre in India is a hybrid product of Brecht’s theatre and Indian theatre practices – to isolate one from the other is to deny its existence overall. In India, the adoption of Brecht’s theatre practices was triggered by the AIPWA and Nehruvian socialism, and Brechtian theatre in India extended the poetics and politics of social plays started by Bengali theatre and popularised by the IPTA. The Brechtian plays produced for Indian audiences in post-independence India thus constituted an important part of the construction of an Indian political identity as well as an Indian stage identity. They did this by accomplishing a materialist 36 reading of the world. In India, Brechtian theatre emerged from a cauldron of diversity, and thus celebrates India as a pluralist civilisation. It repudiates the homogenising project of the nation-state, promoted by the Theatre of Roots: “the modern nation-state has never found it easy to live with ambiguity, and it cannot countenance open-endedness. Civilizations have been more tolerant in this respect, and once again India furnishes many examples” (Lal 181). This means that in its search to find close-ended narratives, which articulate only one version of truth, the nation-state resists diversity. Brechtian theatre forges a narrative of dissent, which nurtures a more expansive version of truth, rather than the monolithic version of truth promoted by the construct of the modern nation-state. Additionally, it negotiates between marga (national) and desi (sub-national) traditions. Rather than disseminating one-sided nationalist (rastra) discourse, it offers a plurality of regional (rajya) discourses. Brechtian theatre in India interweaves the European variant with Indian performance practices, and thus remains equal – rather than subordinate – to its European counterpart. The formation of this new Indian variant recasts the site of inf luence. It shows that it no longer highlights the hierarchical relationship between inf luencer and inf luenced but serves as a space to underline the distinctive uses of old constructs in a new environment. These distinct uses of Brechtian theatre in India demonstrate how Indian Brechtian theatre both differs from and defers to its European counterpart. The inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics on Indian theatre makes it possible to see the shift in the meaning of Brechtian theatre, namely that inf luence is the site reinforcing the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre in India. By taking up residence in the aesthetic and political radicalism of cultural and political histories of India, Brechtian theatre became not only the new political theatre of India, but also constructed an identity remarkably different from its Western counterpart.

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  55

Notes 1 Hafeez Malik notes that “within the Congress, Nehru was the leader of the left-wing” (649) and that’s why he was invited by Sajjad Zaheer, under whose leadership the first conference was held. 2 The Manifesto was drafted in 1935 in London by Sajjad Zaheer, Muhammad Din Tasir, Mulk Raj Anand, Pramod Sen Gupta, and Jyoti Ghosh. 3 Dharwadker notes that the radical temperament of the first theatrical movement is located in theatre’s identification with nation, which initially began in “‘regional’ expressions of nationalist and anticolonial sentiment in Bengali and Marathi theatre,” followed by “national purview” of organizations such as the Indian People’s Theatre Association, and the Bharatiya Natya Sangh (Indian Theatre Guild) (Theatres of Independence 25). 4 While discussing the second theatrical movement in India, Dharwadker invariably invokes Suresh Awasthi’s idea of the “theatre of roots,” which remains inherently Indian in its aesthetics as well as politics. 5 Dharwadker notes that the conventional historical argument considers Indian literary modernity as “a consequence of the dissemination of the European literary canon on the subcontinent, the institutionalization of English literary studies in the mid-nineteenth century, the formation of modern print culture in the course of the nineteenth century, and the large scale assimilation of modern Western literary forms” (Theatres of Independence 132–133). 6 The etymology of the word Parsi refers specifically to Persia (modern day Iran). In the eight-century after the Muslim conquest of Persia, Parsis immigrated to India from Persia. They embraced Indian customs and Gujarati language but maintained their Zoroastrian faith. In the first scholarly study on the Parsi theatre, Somnath Gupt notes that “the phrase ‘Parsi theatre’ signifies the playhouses built and operated by the Parsi community, along with Parsi playwrights, Parsi dramas, Parsi stages, Parsi theatrical companies, Parsi actors, Parsi directors, and so on. Also included are those playwrights and actors who were not Parsis, but who worked on a salaried basis for the Parsi theatrical companies” (23). 7 In the 1868 production of Indian Theatrical Company’s Nana Sahib, the portrayal of the protagonist, Nana Sahib was historically inaccurate because he was presented as a rebel not a patriot, “thus expressing the Parsis’ loyalty to the British” (Gupt 154). This is one example of how the Parsi theatre did not want to court any political controversy. 8 Gupt documents that “Dadi Patel introduced the notion of opera with Benazir Badremunir, and the addiction to songs grew to such an extent that occasions of joy, deaths, wars, and dialogues were all accompanied by singing” (182). 9 Hansen argues that the bourgeois nature of the Parsi theatre is established during the time of its emergence: “when Parsi theatrical performances began in 1853, they were accompanied by much fanfare in the press. Playbills, theatre reviews, and letters to the editor were frequently carried in the city’s papers, with the explicit intention of attracting an audience and nurturing the theatre in what was called its ‘infancy’” (“Languages on Stage” 384). 11 Kathryn Hansen notes in the “Foreword” to Somnath Gupt’s The Parsi Theatre that “although largely displaced by motion pictures after the advent of sound in the 1930s, the Parsi theatre remains significant for its long-term impact on diverse regional theatrical styles and on the popular cinema” (vii).

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13 14

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18 19 20 21

22 23 24

extraordinary kind, and requires acting with playful f lourish of limbs and possesses characteristics of dance and requires conventional enunciation, and is dependent on emotionally carried persons” (246). In contrast to natyadharmi, Bharata mentions another tradition, that is, of lokdharmi, “[i]f a play depends on natural behaviour and is simple and not artificial, and has in its professions and activities of the people and has [simple acting and] no playful f lourish of limbs and depends on men and women of different types” (245–246). The Sangeet Natak Akademi was originally formed in 1952 and it became functional from January 1953. Shayoni Mitra comments that “naturally, Hindi’s more lyrical cousin Urdu, was given the short shrift in the exchanges of the Drama Seminar. Not only had the lines between Hindi and Urdu congealed into two unassimilable linguistic registers by this time, the dramatic inheritances of the two are also clearly delineated. The repeated invocations of Sanskritic tradition willy-nilly imply a Hindu past, and possibly a Hindu future” (159). Mee notes that “Awasthi picked up the term up from Richard Schechner” (“Decolonizing” 63). It seems that if the English proverb “the proof of the pudding is in the eating” was Brecht’s favourite proverb, then “culinary” would have been his favourite word. It has been used so many times by him to refer to opera and drama of yore that turn audiences into passive consumers. One of the first sightings of this word is in “Notes on the Opera Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny.” The phrase “totally present” needs some explanation. Goethe and Schiller used the phrase in “On Epic and Dramatic Poetry” to denote the representation of events by the dramatic poet against the epic poet who represents events as “totally past” (Goethe and Schiller 379). By creating events that give an illusion of “totally present,” the dramatic poet does not allow the critical distance to the audience. Brecht’s epic theatre plans to restore this critical distance to the audience by challenging the idea of “totally present” (379). Although the essay “On Epic and Dramatic Poetry” was written by Goethe, he added Schiller’s name because the essay was “the result of their discussion of the subject in letters and conversation” (379). In “Short Organon,” Brecht notes that “the new science [of Marxism] that deals with the nature of human society, and was founded about a hundred years ago, was founded on the struggle between rulers and ruled” (234). In the beginning of his thinking about this concept, Verfremdung was called Entfremdung (borrowed from Marx and Hegel), but after visiting Moscow in 1935 Brecht started calling it Verfremdung (Grimm 43). Brecht considers montage as the defining characteristic of the modern work of art (Mueller, “Distancing Brecht” 473). Barnett differentiates this understanding of Gestus to his use of Haltung which “combines what is usually a mental state in English (attitude) with physical expression (bearing)” (Brecht in Practice 97–98). Barnett further notes that “Brecht wants the actor to embody Haltungen and to show how they change as the situation changes” (Brecht in Practice 98). Simply put, Gestus articulates the effect of the social state on the body while Haltung presents the mental state through the body. Brecht had a lifelong concern with this form but the majority of Lehrstücke were written between 1928 and 1930. Groups inf luenced by the Lehrstücke include The Living Theatre and the Bread and Puppet Theatre. Karl-Heinz Schoeps notes that “most of them were eventually performed before audiences” (71).

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  57

58  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India

Bibliography Allana, Amal. “Director’s Note on Himmat Mai.” A Tribute to Brecht. Ed. Nissar Allana. New Delhi: Theatre and Television Associates, 1993. 69–71. Print. ———. “The Power of Detail: Manohar Singh in Performance.” Seagull Theatre Quarterly 4 (1994): 51–59. Print. ——— “Production Notes: Himmat Mai.” A Tribute to Brecht. Ed. Nissar Allana. New Delhi: Theatre and Television Associates, 1993. 73–85. Print. ———. “Gender Relations and Self Identity: A Personal Encounter.” Muffled Voices: Women in Modern Indian Theatre. Ed. Lakshmi Subramanyam. Delhi: Shakti Books, 2002. 165–192. Print. ———. “Brecht: A Participant in the Process of Nation-Building.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 36. 2011. 27–43. Print. ———. “Post-Independence Enactments.” The Act of Becoming: Actors Talk. Ed. Amal Allana. New Delhi: NSD and Niyogi, 2013. 132–141. Print. Althusser, Louis Pierre. For Marx. New York: Verso, 1996. Print. ———. On the Reproduction of Capitalism: Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses. Trans. G.M. Goshgarian. London: Verso, 2014. Print. Anand, Mulk Raj. The Indian Theatre. London: Dennis Dobson, 1950. ———.“Indian Theatre in the Context of the World Theatre.” Indian Drama in Retrospect. New Delhi: Sangeet Natak Akademi, 2007. 281–303. Print. Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. New York: Verso, 2006. Print. Aristotle. Poetics. Trans. Joe Sachs. Newburyport: Focus, 2006. Print. Awasthi, Suresh. “‘Theatre of Roots’: Encounter with Tradition.” Tulane Drama Review 33.4 (1989): 48–69. Print. ———.“Hindi Folk Drama.” Indian Drama in Retrospect. New Delhi: Sangeet Natak Akademi, 2007. 136–146. Print. ———. “In Defence of the ‘Theatre of Roots.’” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. 295–311. Print. Banerjee, Arundhati. “Brecht Adaptations in Modern Bengali Theatre: A Study in Reception.” Asian Theatre Journal 7.1 (1990): 1–28. Print. Barnett, David. “‘I Have to Change Myself Instead of Interpreting Myself.’ Heiner Müller as Post-Brechtian Director.” Contemporary Theatre Review 20.1 (2010): 6–20. Print. ———. “Toward a Definition of Post-Brechtian Performance: The Example of In the Jungle of the Cities at the Berliner Ensemble, 1971.” Modern Drama 54.3 (2011): 333–356. Print. ———. Brecht in Practice: Theatre, Theory and Performance. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. A History of the Berliner Ensemble. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 2015. Print. Barthes, Roland. “Seven Photo Models of Mother Courage.” Tulane Drama Review 12.1 (1967): 44–55. Print. ———. Image, Music, Text. London: Fontana, 1977. Print. ———. S/Z. Oxford: Blackwell, 1990. Print. Bhabha, Homi K. “DissemiNation: Time, Narrative, and the Margins of the Modern Nation.” Nation and Narration. Ed. Homi K. Bhabha. New York: Routledge, 1990. 291–322. Print. ———. “Narrating the Nation.” Nationalism. Eds. John Hutchinson and Anthony D. Smith. Oxford: Oxford U P, 1994. 306–312. Print.

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  59 ———. The Location of Culture. New York: Routledge, 2004. Print. Bharata. The Natyasastra: A Treatise on Hindu Dramaturgy and Histrionics. Trans. Manmohan Ghosh. Vol. I. Calcutta: The Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1950. Print. Bharucha, Rustom. “Beyond Brecht: Political Theatre in Calcutta.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 11. 1982. 73–89. Print. ———. Rehearsals of Revolution: The Political Theater of Bengal. Honolulu: U of Hawaii P, 1983. Print. ———. In the Name of the Secular: Contemporary Cultural Activism in India. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 1998. Print. ———. Theatre and the World: Performance and the Politics of Culture. London: Routledge, 1993. Print. ———. Terror and Performance. New Delhi: Tulika Books, 2014. Print. Bhatia, Nandi. “Staging a Change: Modern Indian Drama and the Colonial Encounter.” Diss. University of Texas at Austin 1996. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Aug. 2014. ———. Acts of Authority, Acts of Resistance: Theater and Politics in Colonial and Postcolonial India. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2004. Print. ———. ed. Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. Print. ———. “Modern Indian Theatre: An Introduction.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. XI–XXXIX. Print. ———. Performing Women/Performing Womenhood: Theatre, Politics, and Dissent in North India. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2010. Print. Bradley, Laura. Brecht and Political Theatre: The Mother on Stage. Great Britain: Oxford U P, 2006. Print. Brandon, James R., and Martin Banham. The Cambridge Guide to Asian Theatre. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 1993. Print. Brecht, Bertolt. Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Trans. John Willett. Ed. John Willett. 2nd ed. London: Methuen, 1974. Print. ———. “Against Georg Lukács.” Aesthetics and Politics. London: Verso, 1977. 68–85. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht’s Me-ti: Book of Interventions in the Flow of Things. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Print. ———. Diaries 1920–1922. Trans. John Willett. London: Eyre Methuen, 1979. Print. ———. Journals 1934–1955. Trans. Hugh Rorrison. Ed. John Willett. London: Methuen, 1993. Print. ———. Mother Courage and Her Children. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1994. Print. ———. The Caucasian Chalk Circle. Trans. Eric Bentley. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1999, Print. ———. Brecht on Art and Politics. Eds. Tom Kuhn and Steve Giles. London: Bloomsbury, 2003. Print. ———. The Threepenny Opera. Trans. Ralph Manheim and John Willett. London: Bloomsbury, 2005. Print. ———. Poetry and Prose. Eds. Reinhold Grimm and Caroline Molina Y. Vedia. London: Continuum, 2006. Print. ———. Brecht on Performance. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print.

60  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India ———. “Notes on The Threepenny Opera.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 71–80. Print. ———. “Notes on The Mother (1933).” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 86–96. Print. ———. “Theatre for Pleasure or Theatre for Instruction.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 109–117. Print. ———. “On Experimental Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 133–146. Print. ———. “Verfremdung Effects in Chinese Acting.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 151–159. Print. ———. “On Gestic Music.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 167–169. Print. ———. “The Street Scene.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 176–183. Print. ———. “Realism and the Proletariat.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 200–206. Print. ———. “Short Organon.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 229–255. Print. ———. “Theatre Work.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 263–267. Print. ———. “Dialectical Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 283–285. Print. ———. “A Detour: The Caucasian Chalk Circle.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 298–299. Print. ———. Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. The Good Person of Szechwan. Collected Plays: Six. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 1994. 1–111. Print. ———. The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. Trans. Ralph Manheim. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 113–214. Print. Carlson, Marvin. The Haunted Stage: The Theatre as Memory Machine. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2001. Print. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Print. ———. “Clothing the Political Man: A Reading of the Use of Khadi/White in India Public Life.” Postcolonial Studies 4.1 (2001): 27–38. Print. Dalmia, Vasudha. The Nationalization of Hindu Traditions: Bharatendu Harischandra and Nineteenth-Century Banaras. Delhi: Oxford U P, 1997. Print. ———. Poetics, Plays, and Performances: The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2008. Print. Dalmia-Lüderlitz, Vasudha. “Brecht on the North Indian Hindi Stage: Facts & Figures.” Communications from the International Brecht Society 17.1 (1987): 53–61. Print. ———. “Brecht in Hindi: The Poetics of Response.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 16 ( Jan.– Mar. 1988): 59–72. Print.

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  61 ———. “To Be More Brechtian Is to Be More Indian: On the Theatre of Habib Tanvir.” The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre, Own and Foreign. Eds. Erika Fischer-Lichte, Josephine Riley and Michael Gissenwehrer. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 1990. 221–235. Print. Dam, Sukumar. “Democratic Socialism in India.” The Indian Journal of Political Science 26.4 (1965): 69–74. Print. Derrida, Jacques. Dissemination. Trans. Barbara Johnson. London: Athlone Press, 1981. Print. Dharwadker, Aparna. “John Gay, Bertolt Brecht, and Postcolonial Antinationalisms.” Modern Drama 38.1 (1995): 4–21. Print. ———. Theatres of Independence: Drama, Theory, and Urban Performance in India since 1947. Iowa City: U of Iowa P, 2005. Print. Dimitrova, Diana. Western Tradition and Naturalistic Hindi Theatre. New York: Peter Lang, 2004. Print. Dutt, Utpal. “An Armoured Car on the Road to Proletarian Revolution.” Interview with Utpal Dutt. By Malini Bhattacharya and Mihir Bhattacharya. Journal of Arts & Ideas 8 (1984): 25–42. Print. Eisenstein, Sergei. The Film Sense. New York: Harcourt, 1947. Print. Esslin, Martin. Brecht: A Choice of Evils: A Critical Study of the Man, His Work, and His Opinions. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1959. Print. ———. Brecht: The Man and His Work. New York: Anchor Books, 1971. Print. Foucault, Michel. This is Not a Pipe. Trans. James Harkness. Ed. James Harkness. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Print. ———. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. Alan M. Sheridan-Smith. London: Routledge, 1989. Gargi, Balwant. “The Caucasian Chalk Circle: From Three Angles.” The Times of India (29 June 1969): V. Print. ———. “Meeting Brecht in Person.” A Tribute to Brecht. Ed. Nissar Allana. New Delhi: Theatre and Television Associates, 1993. 25–26. Print. Giles, Steve. “A New Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 9–18. Print. ———. “The Threepenny Opera.” Writing Brecht. Oxford University 2016. Web. 7 Nov. 2017. Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, and Friedrich Schiller. “On Epic and Dramatic Poetry.” Schiller and Goethe from 1794 to 1805. Trans. George H. Calvert. New York: Wiley and Putnam, 1845. 379–390. Print. Gómez, Rosa Fernández. “The Rasa Theory: A Challenge for Intercultural Aesthetics.” Intercultural Aesthetics: A Worldview Perspective. Eds. Antoon Van den Braembussche, Heinz Kimmerle and Nicole Note. Vol. IX. Dordrecht: Springer, 2008. 105–117. Print. Grimm, Reinhold. “Alienation in Context: On the Theory and Practice of Brechtian Theater.” A Bertolt Brecht Reference Companion. Ed. Siegfried Mews. London: Greenwood Press, 1997. 35–46. Print. Gupt, Somnath. The Parsi Theatre: Its Origins and Development. Trans. Kathryn Hansen. New Delhi: Seagull Books, 2005. Print. Hansen, Kathryn. “Indian Folk Traditions and the Modern Theatre.” Asian Folklore Studies 42.1 (1983): 77–89. Print. ———. Grounds for Play: The Nautanki Theatre of North India. Berkeley: U of California P, 1991. Print.

62  Definition of Brechtian theatre in India ———. “Languages on Stage: Linguistic Pluralism and Community Formation in the Nineteenth-Century Parsi Theatre.” Modern Asian Studies 37.2 (2003): 381– 405. Print. ———. “Foreword.” The Parsi Theatre: Its Origins and Development. By Somnant Gupt. Trans. Kathryn Hansen. New Delhi: Seagull Books, 2005. vii–xiii. Print. Haug, Wolfgang Fritz. “Philosophizing with Marx, Gramsci, and Brecht.” Boundary 2 34.3 (2007): 143–160. Print. Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. Print. Innes, Christopher. A Sourcebook on Naturalistic Theatre. New York: Routledge, 2000. Print. Jameson, Fredric. Brecht and Method. New York; London: Verso, 1998. Print. Kapur, Anuradha. “Reassembling the Modern: An Indian Theatre Map since Independence.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. 41–55. Print. ———. “The Representation of Gods and Heroes: Parsi Mythological Drama of the Early Twentieth Century.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 23–24. (1993): 85–107. Print. Kruger, Loren. Post-Imperial Brecht: Politics and Performance, East and South. New York: Cambridge U P, 2004. Print. Lal, Vinay. Empire of Knowledge: Culture and Plurality in the Global Economy. London: Pluto Press, 2002. Print. Lutze, Lothar. “Indian Classical Drama in the Light of Bertolt Brecht’s Dramatic Theory and Practice.” Yearbook. Ed. Helmo Rau. New Delhi: Max Mueller Bhavan, 1962. 29–49. Print. ———. “Enacting the Life of Rama. Classical Traditions in Contemporary Religious Folk Theatre of Northern India.” The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre, Own and Foreign. Eds. Erika Fischer-Lichte, Josephine Riley and Michael Gissenwehrer. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 1990. 209–220. Print. Malik, Hafeez. “The Marxist Literary Movement in India and Pakistan.” The Journal of Asian Studies 26.4 (1967): 649–664. Print. Mee, Erin Baker. “Decolonizing Modern Indian Theatre: The Theatre of Roots.” Diss. New York University 2004. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Oct. 2004. ———. Theatre of Roots: Redirecting the Modern Indian Stage. London: Seagull, 2007. Print. ———. “The Fight for Regional Autonomy through Regional Culture: Antigone in Manipur, North-East India.” Antigone on the Contemporary World Stage. Eds. Erin B. Mee and Helene P. Foley. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2011. 107–126. Print. Mehta, Tarla. Sanskrit Play Production in Ancient India. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1995. Print. Mitra, Shayoni. “Contesting Capital: A History of Political Theatre in Postcolonial Delhi.” Diss. New York University 2009. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Dec. 2014. Mueller, Roswitha. “Distancing Brecht: Montage in Brecht.” Theatre Journal 39.4 (1987): 473–486. Print. ———. “Learning for a New Society: The Lehrstück.” The Cambridge Companion to Brecht. Eds. Peter Thomson and Glendyr Sacks. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 2007. 101–117. Print. Mumford, Meg. Bertolt Brecht. Hoboken: Taylor & Francis, 2009. Print. Nehru, Jawaharlal. The Discovery of India. Delhi: Oxford U P, 1985. Print.

Definition of Brechtian theatre in India  63 ———. Jawaharlal Nehru: An Anthology. Ed. Sarvepalli Gopal. Calcutta: Oxford U P, 1983. Print. Patil, Anand. Western Influence on Marathi Drama: A Case Study. Goa: Rajhauns Vitaran, 1993. Print. Plato. The Symposium and the Phaedo. Trans. Raymond Larson. Ed. Raymond Larson. Wheeling: Harlan Davidson, 1980. Print. Rea, Kenneth. “Theatre in India: The Old and the New.” Theatre Quarterly 8.32 (1979): 47–66. Print. Sarkar, Sumit. Modern India, 1885–1947. Delhi: Macmillan, 1985. Print. Schoeps, Karl-Heinz. “Brecht’s Lehrstücke: A Laboratory for Epic and Dialectic Theater.” A Bertolt Brecht Reference Companion. Ed. Siegfried Mews. London: Greenwood Press, 1997. 70–87. Print. Schwarz, Roberto. “Brecht’s Relevance: Highs and Lows.” New Left Review 57 (2009): 85–104. Print. Schwarz, Walter. “Two-Party Democracy Faces a Test Run.” The Guardian (14 May 1977): 5. Print. Solomon, Rakesh H. “The Historical Terrain of Kichaka-Vadha.” Globalization, Nationalism and the Text of Kichaka-Vadha. Ed. Rakesh H. Solomon. London: Anthem, 2014. 3–42. Print. Szondi, Peter. Theory of the Modern Drama: A Critical Edition. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1987. Print. Witt, Hubert. Brecht as They Knew Him. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1975. Print. Witt, Mary Anna Frese. Metatheater and Modernity: Baroque and Neobaroque. Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson U P, 2013. Print.

2

Performing Brecht on the Indian stage Towards a national theatre

The history of the dissemination of Brechtian theatre in India is simultaneously a history of nonconformity. Following the last chapter’s investigation into the theoretical assumptions that defined the field of Brechtian theatre in India, I turn to examine the 1963 performance of Sufaid Kundali (The Caucasian Chalk Circle), which is arguably1 the first example of any of Bertolt Brecht’s plays in the Hindi belt. The production’s distinct poetics and purpose destabilised the characteristic features of Brechtian theatre and marked the emergence of an alternative architecture of Brechtian theatre in India. The displacement of meanings in the Indian variant again underpins the pharmakonic structure of Brechtian theatre in India – that is, its indeterminacy towards definite meanings and essences – and shows that the Indian variant is an alternative discourse rather than an extension of Brechtian theatre in Europe. Sufaid Kundali was performed under the banner of the Hindustani Theatre, a Delhi-based theatre troupe.2 Hindustani Theatre consciously attempted to present this first production of Brecht in the Hindi belt as a part of Brecht’s legacy by organising a Brecht exhibition 3 before it, making it important to compare Sufaid Kundali with Brecht’s original. Yet despite being the first production of Brecht’s plays in the Hindi belt, there has been virtually no place reserved for it in Brechtian scholarship.4 The creation of Brechtian theatre in the form of Hindustani Theatre’s Sufaid Kundali was the result of the assimilation of India’s own subversive theatre tradition rather than the sole consequence of the import of Brecht to India. Tanvir’s Agra Bazaar is also an important reference because Tanvir’s production inf luenced Sufaid Kundali.5 This stresses that the emergence of Brechtian theatre in India cannot be credited solely to the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics but must be seen as an acknowledgement of India’s own political and subversive theatrical traditions. The presence of two inf luences – Brecht and Tanvir – in the performance of Sufaid Kundali shows that the site of Brechtian inf luence is also a site of questioning. It becomes a space asserting what Foucault calls “similarity,” a construct which contests the idea of origins and hierarchies. Put differently, Brechtian theatre in India was more than the mimetic version of its

Performing Brecht on the Indian stage  65

European counterpart since it also borrowed from subversive Indian theatre. In conveying the varied poetics and politics of Brechtian theatre in India, the Indian variant subverts the absoluteness of its European counterpart and asserts its own pharmakonic identity. Habib Tanvir’s production of Agra Bazaar (1954) – the earliest example of subversive theatre in post-independence India and the pre-Brechtian face of Indian proscenium theatre – inf luenced Sathyu’s staging. The similarity between Tanvir’s and Sathyu’s productions underlines not only the multivalent nature of inf luence – meaning that the Indian variant is a conf luence of subversive Indian aesthetics and Brechtian aesthetics – but also the deviant character of Brechtian theatre in India. Agra Bazaar’s subversiveness was the result of its articulation of what Mikhail Bakhtin calls the carnivalesque. Interestingly, the carnivalesque is also present in Brecht in the form of “realist grotesque,” according to Bakhtin, where “it is related to the tradition of realism and folk culture” (46).6 The production articulated its subversive character through its use of the production set, the dialects of actors, and the topic of inquiry, the elements whose politics remained interwoven with traditional Indian theatre in general and Nautanki, a folk operatic theatre, in particular. By traditional Indian theatre I refer to the aesthetics of ancient Sanskrit and folk dramatic traditions that overlap in modern India on the basis of their common features – “preliminary rituals, stylised acting and gestures, stock characters like the stage director (sutradhar) and clown (vidushaka), and abundant song and dance” (Hansen, “Indian Folk” 77). The production’s revolutionary poetics of carnivalesque became visible through its use of the grotesque body of the actors. Sathyu’s deployment of Indian poetic realism translated and rewrote Brechtian aesthetics, giving rise to an alternative version of Brechtian theatre in India, while the use of poetic realism punctuated the contradictoriness and ambivalence of Brechtian theatre in India. Importantly, the distinct uses and poetics of the new version opposed any attempts to read Brechtian theatre in India as a response to Brechtian theatre in Europe: The poetic realism of the Indian theatre does not construct the reality on stage but provides certain formalised “gestures, sounds and movements” (Anand, The Indian Theatre 17) which equip the audience to create this reality using their imagination. Offering an interpretative agency to the audience not only resonated with Brecht’s idea of activating audiences, but it also diverged from it. While the Gestic realism of Brecht resembles the poetic realism of Indian theatres in its dismissal of naturalistic theatre through stylised gestures, songs and narration, it differs from Indian theatres in its ability to transcend the narrative and critically comment on it. In other words, in contrast to the poetic realism, where symbols or gestures help the audience either emphasise the narrative or reach a higher emotional state,7 the Gestus of Brechtian theatre critiques the capitalist system by presenting a “visible connection” between the actor’s body and its relationships with “social contexts” (Barnett, Brecht in Practice 95). By privileging poetic realism over Gestic realism, Sufaid Kundali became

66  Performing Brecht on the Indian stage

a dissentient variant of the original Brechtian strain. This diverse use of Brechtian theatre in India underscored the underlying difference between the Indian and the European variants and articulated the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre in India. The Hindustani Theatre’s assimilation of the poetic realism of traditional Indian theatre turned Brechtian theatre into a composite theatre, a kind of Gesamtkunstwerk that combined music, gestures, song, dance and narration in order to create rasa – the sentiments that affect the audience.8 Although Sufaid Kundali’s engagement with the poetic realism of traditional Indian theatre gave it a progressive character, this subversive nature differed from Brecht’s production. While Brecht’s political theatre aimed to provide a critique of the bourgeois world, Sufaid Kundali’s subversive character remained limited to its use of revolutionary Indian aesthetics – as opposed to the aesthetics of the naturalistic theatre – without any political critique. It is important to note that at this time in the life of the newly independent nation, all productions that appeared “to be subversive or political” were eliminated from various government governed cultural organisations (Bhatia, Acts of Authority 92). In the wake of these changes, the primary political agenda of the production was to answer the nation’s call to create an Indian theatre based on India’s own past theatre traditions. Hindustani Theatre’s blocking of the wedding scene – central both to Sufaid Kundali and Brecht’s production – and the use of traditional Indian theatre to stage Brecht’s play turned Brechtian theatre into an unwitting collaborator in the project of Indian nationalism. Hindustani Theatre’s intention to promote home-grown theatrical forms was apparent in two ways. First, the prologue of Brecht’s play, which offers a model of socialist society to the audience, was eliminated from the Indian production. This demonstrated Hindustani Theatre’s ability to erase components of the original that diverted the attention of the audience from the production’s politics of aesthetics9 and clarified its qualm with political activism. Second, the exhibition on “Bertolt Brecht and his Theatre”10 that preceded the production pointed at the probable connection between Brechtian devices and Indian theatrical practices. For example, Plate 28 in the exhibition, which showed “a half-curtain from Kathakali which is also common to some other forms in India,” was juxtaposed with Plate 29, which presented “[a] halfcurtain from ‘The Threepenny Opera’ [sic]” (Sathyu, “An Exhibition” 7).11 Hindustani Theatre’s was thought to be the form that would address the gap created in the absence of a national theatre in India, making its construction of a composite theatre significant. Hindustani Theatre saw its composite theatre as India’s answer to the idea of a national theatre, as Zaidi notes: [n]ational professional theatre is still not there [in the late 1950s] and the difference she [Qudsia Zaidi] had with Habib Tanvir was because he left the theatre because he was interested in his own development as a director of a particular type of theatre. But she didn’t want to do only

Performing Brecht on the Indian stage  67

that type of theatre. That is why it was a composite theatre, she wanted to do all kind, Charley’s Aunt, Pygmalion, Brecht, Shakespeare, Ibsen and many playwrights. She wanted it to be the national theatre. (Personal Interview 9 Dec. 2015) Hindustani Theatre’s discourse of composite theatre, which relies on an interaction with pre-colonial theatre traditions, and its appearance in the first production of Brecht was an experiment in “nationalising the nation,” to borrow a phrase from Gyanendra Pandey (17). The presence of these indigenous theatrical discourses within the performance of Sufaid Kundali reshaped Brechtian theatre in India. Hindustani Theatre’s experiment was not an isolated attempt; the post-independence period provided a breeding ground for experimental forms and amateur groups. Enumerating this upsurge in experimentation in post-independence India, Benegal writes: There was a production of Heer Ranjha, a folk-classic romantic tragedy of the Punjab reinterpreted in opera by Sheila Bhatia for the Delhi Art Theatre, a phenomenal and new experience in contemporary theatre. Dina Gandhi in Ahmedabad staged Mena Gujari a local legend as a musical play in the folk-form of Gujarat called Bhavai. In Delhi with the vigorous inspiration of Begum Qudsia Zaidi, the Hindustani Theatre tried out Shakuntala once in stylised form in a new translation produced by Moneeka Tanvir and again as a dance-drama by Narendra Sharma. It also made an experiment with Shudraka’s Little Clay Cart in a new-folk style called Na[i]-Nautanki under the direction of a talented man of theatre, Habib Tanvir. (109) To create a theatre that could both bring back the masses and address the absence of a national theatre, Hindustani Theatre contemporised classical texts like Shakuntala (1957–58) and Mudrarakshas (1963–64)12 and translated Western classics such as Henrik Ibsen, G.B. Shaw and Brandon Thomas. For Hindustani Theatre, the quest was to promote Indian theatre forms over Western forms so that Indian theatre could regain its pre-colonial glory, which could be accomplished only if Indian theatre directors gave up their search for high forms and created a composite theatre, which mixed popular with high aesthetic forms. Zaidi’s “Towards a Popular Theatre”13 also raises this issue, where she encourages theatre directors “to put the popular forms of art to aesthetic use” (2) rather than discard them in favour of so-called high themes meant for “the snobs” (1). In the Indian context, “the snobs” refer to urban theatre directors who discard traditional Indian theatre. The composite form of Sufaid Kundali differed from Parsi theatre, another hybrid theatre that, during the colonial period, superficially mixed the sentimental comedies of eighteenth-century Britain with mainstream Indian theatrical traditions to create masala (formulaic) plays. Parsi theatre was heavily inf luenced by modern theatre in the West, and thus came to be defined in

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terms of plot-driven plays that stemmed from a single author. It was expected to have human characters, conversational dialogue, behaviour that was psychologically motivated, events that were causally linked and realistic settings. This allowed spectators to believe in the present-tense reality of the action on stage and to identify with the characters, eliminating anything that would shatter the illusion of the fictional world of the play (Mee, Theatre of Roots 2). This new variety – composite theatre – differed from the old on two levels. First, it used indigenous theatrical conventions rather than borrowed naturalistic forms and second, it relied on syncretic aesthetic forms, that is forms chosen in a syncretic fashion rather than imposed in a non-syncretic manner, as was the case in Parsi theatre. The crucial role played by marginal theatrical traditions of India in the construction of Brechtian theatre in India counters the assertion of a European Brechtian aesthetics. In other words, the site of inf luence was also a space for highlighting the ambivalent nature of Brechtian theatre since it shows that Brechtian theatre in India was used for disparate purposes, different from its European counterpart, with these diverse uses highlighting the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. The rest of the chapter engages with two central questions of the book: how the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics was employed in India and how this use differed from its previous uses in Europe. I explore this by examining Habib Tanvir’s Agra Bazaar, a representative example of subversive Indian theatre. Following my analysis of this strain of subversive Indian theatre, I compare Sufaid Kundali with Agra Bazaar and Brecht’s staging of The Caucasian Chalk Circle.

Agra Bazaar and subversive Indian theatre Since the contribution of India’s own subversive tradition to Brechtian scholarship in India deserves deeper analysis, I begin by examining Tanvir’s production of Agra Bazaar (1954), the earliest example of this strain in post-independence India. It is important that Tanvir’s production be discussed for three reasons: it has been f leetingly addressed in the past; it throws light on the pre-Brechtian face of post-independence Indian theatre, that is, subversive post-independence Indian theatre before the arrival of Brechtian aesthetics; and finally, it is a representative example of subversive theatre tradition in India that particularly inspired Hindustani Theatre’s Sufaid Kundali. The production was one of “the three milestones” (Tanvir, Agra 8) – the other two being Mitti Ki Gadi (1958) and Charandas Chor (1975) – in Tanvir’s career though it remained under-discussed, especially in regard to Tanvir’s use of the revolutionary aesthetics of the carnivalesque, which is important because it offers a subversive nature to both the specific production and post-independence Indian theatre overall. Notably, the performance remained insulated from the ghosts and hauntings of the dramatic structure of Brechtian theatre, to which Tanvir’s theatre was compared, because it was performed before Tanvir was exposed to Brecht.14

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Although Bakhtin developed the idea of carnivalesque while engaging with European literature, his idea has long transcended geographical limitations. Bakhtinian ideas have remained pertinent “to significant numbers of researchers in India, China and Japan” (Brandist 124). They continue to be used in semiotics, literary theory, film studies, and postcolonial literature. Heyman notes one application of the carnivalesque in the Indian context: “Indian nonsense [poetry and prose], in particular, takes a carnivalesque approach to Indian aesthetics, politics, religion, class/caste issues, respect for elders and the guru-disciple relationship, all topics that are normally treated with the utmost respect” (xxxix). Heyman’s comment shows how Bakhtin’s carnivalesque has been extended to understand Indian aesthetics. Theorising the carnivalesque against the background of Rabelais’s Gargantua and Pantagruel, Bakhtin associates the spirit of carnival with the freedom from social hierarchies. He establishes carnival as a moment that destabilises the social hierarchies of everyday life: “there is a temporary suspension of all hierarchic distinctions and barriers among men and of certain norms and prohibitions of usual life” (15). This form of freedom is accomplished with the help of ritual spectacles that annihilate social hierarchy. Second, the carnival represents not only freedom from social hierarchies but also from literary hierarchies, which extol one form of narration over others. These literary hierarchies are subverted with the help of comic verbal compositions such as parody and the transgressive genre of “billingsgate,” which includes abuses and oaths (5). This means that parodies of canonical works are chosen over the canons. In this new form, “abuse contributed to the creation of the free carnival atmosphere, to the second, droll aspect of the world” (17). According to Bakhtin, this spirit of carnival ultimately breaks out of the religious context and manifests itself in the secular world of Rabelais’s text with metaphors such as the marketplace and the grotesque body. Agra Bazaar was a manifestation of the same spirit as Rabelais’s text: in Tanvir’s production the tropes of marketplace and grotesque body constructed resistance. This carnivalesque spirit of resistance was articulated in the production with the help of traditional Indian theatre. Tanvir’s play Agra Bazaar was performed on 14 March 195415 at the openair stage in Delhi at the Arts Institute of Jamia Millia University in honour of Nazir Day, a day dedicated to the Urdu poet Nazir Akbarabadi “by the Jamia Millia chapter of the Progressive Writers’ Association” (Tanvir, Agra 1). Tanvir’s focus in the production was not only to highlight the social evils of poverty and unemployment but also to underline their absence in high art. Depicting the condition of India in the period around 1810, the production engaged with two narratives. The first dealt with the lives of vegetable-sellers in a bazaar in Agra, an Indian city famous for the Taj Mahal, and how their livelihood was adversely affected by rampant unemployment under British rule. The inability of the sellers to sell vegetables despite low prices emphasised the bleakness of their condition. The second narrative familiarised the audience with the world of nineteenth-century poetry in India, which

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alienated poetic creation from its contemporary realities while celebrating the high tradition of art for art’s sake. The production interwove these two narratives by focusing on Nazir, an Urdu poet. Unlike his nineteenth-century peers, Nazir wrote on subjects that were often considered trivial such as vegetables, f lattery, festivals and kites. While singing Nazir’s poems on themes relevant to ordinary people, such as unemployment and a hike in prices, the vegetable-sellers succeeded in attracting the attention of passers-by and selling their vegetables. The production provided an answer to the question, “what’s the purpose of art?,” by referring to Nazir’s earthly poems, insisting that true art address as well as redress social problems. Otherwise stated, what the “dominant political and cultural norms may have failed to build… the rich potential of folk culture can help counter this failure” (Montaut 31). Tanvir envisaged the idea of art as a form of social resistance in postindependence India through the rendering of Bakhtin’s carnivalesque. Bakhtin’s metaphor of marketplace is central to Tanvir’s idea of resistance. In opposition to naturalistic theatre’s stress on the “voice of the artist,” Tanvir’s theatre focused on the “voice of the people,” to borrow terminology from Rustom Bharucha (In the Name 45). Clearly, this shift marked Tanvir’s penchant for India’s own traditional theatre: “[y]ou have got to produce an Eastern orientation, a traditional orientation, and even, let us say, originality” (“Habib”). This privileging of the “voice of the people” is also central to Bakhtin’s idea of marketplace. Bakhtin asserts that the marketplace should articulate the speech of the people through “abusive language, insulting words or expressions, some of them quite lengthy and complex” (16). The production’s espousal of the voice of the people raised one more question: does the focus on setting, character and standard language, as stated by naturalistic theatre, no longer fit the purposes of free India? The production articulated the voice of people through three dramatic strategies: the production set, the dialects of actors and the topic of inquiry. These dramatic strategies must be read as Tanvir’s act of abandoning the established nature of naturalistic theatre, which dominated the urban stage in Delhi in the 1950s. Furthermore, the use of these dramatic strategies hinted at Tanvir’s borrowing from the folk theatre of Nautanki,16 a theatre prevalent in the Hindi belt, which avoids psychological rendering of characters, focuses on people-centric themes or people’s heroes, “eclectically mixes Hindi, Urdu, Brajbhasa and Avadhi” ( Jain, “Nautanki” 312), and employs abundant songs and dances. Although Tanvir’s production incorporated elements from Nautanki, I must emphasise from the outset that it was not to create a folk theatre but rather an experiment in creating modern theatre using traditional performance.17 The production set – a version of a street market – staged a performance that belonged to the proscenium and simultaneously resisted it and its fourthwall illusionism. This resistance was the result of Tanvir’s decision to set the play in a public place such as a street market in opposition to the naturalistic convention of setting the play either in a house or in some other private place. Seventy-five actors on stage realistically recreated a bazaar but on account of

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their sheer numbers and the folk setting, this denied access to the individual psychology of characters and further debunked the psychological realism of naturalistic theatre. This shift from psychological emotion of characters to social emotion again hinted at Tanvir’s act of incorporating the folk voice. The poet-protagonist, Nazir, who remained absent from the stage throughout the production, further illustrated this turn from the study of individual psychology to an investigation of society. The audience experienced his larger-thanlife presence through his social poems. While this strategy of not presenting Nazir on the stage was clearly a literary device meant to alienate the audience, it also forced audience members to actively create their own perception of Nazir through his poems. By encouraging the audience to recreate Nazir’s world in this way, the production brought them closer to indigenous theatre traditions that relied on “poetic realism.” In opposition to the naturalistic theatre of the West, which requires that reality be produced on stage in front of the audience, thus turning them into passive consumers of a constructed reality, poetic realism allows the audience to create their own reality without presenting everything on the stage. In regard to the production, this reality was created with the help of Nazir’s social poems. Nazir’s absence marked the presence of the poetic realism of indigenous theatre traditions. Moreover, like its folk brethren in general and Nautanki in particular, the production-set, in its imitation of the hustle-bustle of a street market in Agra, celebrated the lack of authorial intent. Nautanki is known to recycle folk stories without paying any heed to authorial intent. In contrast to naturalistic theatre, which has a more narrowed focus, the production exposed the audiences to the polyphony of multiple dialects and the points of view of an array of characters: abusive vendors; madaris with their monkeys; and fakirs with slapsticks, to name a few. These dialects and the ideologies associated with them were brought to life with the help of a non-functional market space. Traditionally, a market is the realm of business and trade, but the production eschewed this meaning since the market was almost inoperative due to rampant unemployment and poverty. The defunct market in the production eventually evolved into a cacophonous site of unrepresented discourses as vendors and other working-class characters discussed the political, poetical and economic condition of India. Thus, the market in the production remained a site celebrating the uncolonised narratives of the people that remained unaffected by authoritative discourse. These dialects, symbolic of diverse points of view, registered resistance against the official narrative of the colonial state by highlighting the tragic state of India under British colonisation as seen through the eyes of the unemployed vendors. In addition to providing myriad points of view, these dialects also highlighted the voices of the actors, who ranged from various walks of life, and the inability of an urban artist like Tanvir to contain these voices within a standard dialect of Hindi. These actors included “not only the teachers, students and children of Jamia but also some persons from the city of Delhi, and men, women and children from surrounding villages. Local groups from

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Tughlaqabad, Badarpur and Okhla, together with a goat and donkey, also participated” (Tanvir, Agra 7). I will say more on this tussle between the voice of the urban artist and the people while discussing the grotesque body of Tanvir’s actors. The project to articulate the voice of the people was also central to the production’s choice of inquiry. Tanvir’s choice of Nazir as the pivot around which the production revolved was important because it rewrote the history of Urdu poetic tradition in India from the people’s perspective. At the time, Nazir’s contribution to Urdu poetry remained critically unacknowledged. By highlighting his contribution, the production not only offered Nazir the niche he always deserved but also recognised the people’s contribution in keeping his verses alive: “[h]e was kept alive by the common people for nearly two hundred years and his poetry, transmitted orally from generation to generation, continued to survive” (Tanvir, Agra 2–3). In this regard, the production underscored the people’s act of orally transmitting Nazir’s verses from one generation to another as an act of resilience and resistance against the established canon of court poetry. Nazir’s verses as sites ref lecting common parlance and problems presumably led to their being accepted by the people. Tanvir underlined Nazir’s talent to highlight contemporary problems by rendering his verses in the production as songs, something that was uncommon in postcolonial Indian theatre. Discussing this aspect of Tanvir’s production, Kirti Jain writes that “[t]he most attractive part of this play was music. At that time most of the plays did not use music, the music [in Tanvir’s production] impressed as an effective dramatic strategy” (“Natya” 69). The songs based on Nazir’s poems highlighted his love for ordinary things; Tanvir recalls that “Nazir, in a style somewhat reminiscent of Walt Whitman, includes long lists of ordinary everyday things or activities” (Tanvir, Agra x). Tanvir demonstrated Nazir’s engagement with common parlance throughout the production. One such episode was at the kite-seller’s shop where the seller listed the names of kites in his shop for an educated buyer: “Do-dharia, gilahria, dowaaz, lalpara, ghayal, langotia, chand-tara, bagula, dopanna, dhir, kharbuzia, pendipaan, dokonia…” (Tanvir, Agra 68). These names not only baff led the buyer but also challenged the educated buyer’s knowledge system and his ignorance of common parlance. Montaut writes that “Nazir’s poetry voices the composite culture of the market place, including its “religious” aspects from all faiths” (29). Nazir’s verses brought together the high art of poetry with the daily realities and problems of ordinary people. This character of Nazir’s poems is visible in the song, Shahar Ashob: Jewellers, traders and other wealthy gents, Who thrived by lending, are now mendicants; The shops are deserted, dust on counter and scale Desolate shopkeepers wait like captives in jail. (Tanvir, Agra 29)

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Nazir’s relevance was accentuated by placing his poems against the ornate tradition of Persian court poetry that saw its heyday in nineteenth-century India. Contrary to the ornate tradition of Persian court poetry that promoted the tradition of art for art’s sake, Nazir’s verses engaged with common contemporary problems such as poverty. Discussing the characteristics of grotesque realism, Bakhtin writes: “[t]he essential principle of grotesque realism is degradation, that is, the lowering of all that is high, spiritual, ideal, abstract; it is a transfer to the material level, to the sphere of earth and body in their indissoluble unity” (19–20). The production rendered Bakhtin’s grotesque realism visible by stressing upon the angik abhinaya (acting through bodily movements) over the vachik abhinaya (acting through speech). This shift is important in dislodging the logocentrism of naturalistic theatre and accentuating the metaphysics of body. The body, which is seen as secondary to speech in naturalistic theatre, gained the primary position in Agra Bazaar. I examine one such instance of angik abhinaya, that is, of the performance of the madari – a magician who with the aid of his monkey or bear performs some tricks – and two of his jamooras (assistants) who played the role of bear and monkey. This novel shift to the grotesque body was registered throughout this dance in two ways: the employment of mudras and the use of slapstick. This dance in the production highlighted vibrancy through the bodies of the performers and therefore could be seen as antithetical to the vibrancy created in the naturalistic theatre through speeches. This shift was important because this was the first time in postcolonial India that the voice of the angik abhinaya of traditional Indian theatre was heard louder than the vachik abhinaya of the naturalistic theatre: “[p]hysicality has always been a great concern in our theatrical tradition. The Natyasastra gives great attention to the discussion of Angikabhinaya” (Awasthi, “In Defence” 303). The centring of the body further demonstrated how the social environment forms the body as the site of social discourse. The movement reached its pinnacle as the actors used their bodies to form various mudras (poses) to replicate the actions either of the monkey or of the bear. These poses became the ultimate act of stylisation used in Tanvir’s theatre. The vitality and loudness of the dance situated the body within the dramatic discourse and defied the realistic gestures of the naturalistic theatre. These stylised gestures articulated the poetic realism of traditional Indian theatre. The dance in its employment of slapstick gestures was overtly physical as the actors jumped around in an animal-like movement. This act of imitation constructed a sense of carnival laughter as actors’ bodies became the centre of attention. By dovetailing the carnivalesque with traditional Indian theatre, subversive Indian theatre constructed a people’s theatre. Besides highlighting the resistant composition of the subversive strain in India, this interweaving promoted Indian theatre aesthetics in postcolonial India. It was the presence of these subversive Indian aesthetics that opened an avenue for an Indian adaptation of Brecht. Following my analysis of Agra Bazaar, a representative example of

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subversive Indian theatre, in the next section I show that Sufaid Kundali aimed to extend Agra Bazaar’s project of creating theatre using poetic realism. I analyse how Sathyu’s distinct use of Brechtian aesthetics gave Brechtian theatre its uniqueness and demonstrate how Sufaid Kundali remained an original site of creation, as using Brechtian aesthetics in service of cultural nationalism while engaging with poetic realism. This unique use of Brechtian aesthetics in India articulates the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre and presents inf luence as the site challenging structures of origins and hierarchies while accentuating the significance of parallel and multiple constellations.

Sufaid Kundali and the project of recovery The performance took place on the rectangular proscenium stage of the Indian Council of Cultural Relations,18 Azad Bhavan, on 9 July 1963.19 The play was translated by Begum Qudsia Zaidi into Hindustani. I provide a brief description of the production and show that despite its resemblance to Brecht’s 1954 production, it remained a variant on account of its use of the poetic realism of Indian theatre. By articulating the difference between the Indian and the European variant, I bring attention to the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre in India, that is, Brechtian theatre’s inability to have stable essences and fixed meanings. By showing the imbricative narratives of Brechtian aesthetics and traditional Indian poetics, the site of Brechtian inf luence accentuated the deviant structure of Brechtian theatre in India. The diverse objectives of the Indian variant further added to this difference between the two variants. The poetic realism of indigenous Indian theatre uses gestures to present emotional states that in turn create the rasa (aesthetic experience) in the audience. Throughout my analysis of the production, I  juxtapose the poetic realism of traditional Indian theatre with the Gestic realism of Brechtian theatre. In tandem with Brecht’s production, the Indian production presented a picture of the world ravaged by civil war. Brecht in his production examined and questioned the dynamics of the world before and after the civil war as we tracked the fall and rise of the Abashwili20 family from the perspective of Grusha Vashadze, the character of the kitchen maid who worked for the family. Grusha rescued Georgi Abashwili’s child, Michael, at the risk of her own life after he was abandoned by his mother, Natella Abashwili, in her rush to save herself and her expensive clothes as war broke out. In order to defend the boy, Grusha married a farmer despite her love for a soldier, Simon. The production ended with the chalk-circle trial of Grusha and Natella on the question of who should get the child. The judge, Azdak, declared Grusha as Michael’s rightful mother. In addition to the plot, the Indian production resembled Brecht’s production in its setting of the play – Georgia in the Caucasus – and the names of the characters, dress design and stage design. Despite similarities between the two productions, the marriage scene in the Indian production, where Grusha

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stood in front of the monk, highlights an important difference. In displaying the nexus between human gestures and the social world, Brecht’s production constructed the Fabel, which showed the resemblance between the institution of marriage and a bourgeois institution. In contrast to Brecht’s staging of the Fabel or “interpretation of events” through “the lens of real social contradictions” (Barnett, Brecht in Practice 89) to undermine the religious authority of marriage, Sathyu’s presentation, which used the poetic realism of indigenous Indian theatre without any commitment to dialectical contradictions, reasserted the power of marriage. The marriage in the Indian production became a site to enact Indian epistemologies that celebrate the custom of marriage rather than question it. In Sathyu’s rendition, Grusha became a site of dharma (duty and righteousness), unlike in Brecht’s production, where she was a bourgeois site foregrounding commodification since she offered herself like a commodity to the dying farmer to save Michael. The marriage scene is important to both productions: while Brecht used the narrative of marriage to pronounce and debunk the bourgeois discourse, for Sathyu, the question of marriage was entwined with the question of morality. Working with the Indian production, I will analyse three gestures: the monk putting his hand on Grusha’s head; Grusha closing her eyes while standing in front of the monk; and the peasants murmuring into each others’ ears to highlight Sathyu’s use of Indian aesthetics. The picture that emerged with Sathyu’s use of poetic realism without any dialectical framework was of the glorification of marriage. Sathyu’s use of gestures based on Indian aesthetics evoked the rasa in the audience and created a theatrical idiom of poetic realism. The production’s use of poetic realism helped it to create a composite theatre, a theatre that evoked the rasa or aesthetic pleasure in the audience. This use of poetic realism to create Brechtian aesthetics aligned Brechtian theatre with the larger project of nationalism, by employing traditional aesthetics in service of the nation. The production’s prologue, an integral part of the play, was removed on the grounds that it was found to be too politically provocative (Zaidi, Personal Interview 9 Dec. 2015). The “opening ‘Prologue,’ which Brecht renamed ‘The Struggle for the Valley’ shortly before his death” (Mumford 93) is an inseparable part of the play and its significance has been articulated by Brecht time and again. The importance of the prologue can also be measured from its invocation in the play’s conclusion when Brecht reminds the audience of the play within a play that they have just heard the story of the chalk circle. By citing the frame play in the interior play, Brecht demonstrates how the idea of the prologue is deeply interwoven into the text of the interior play. Hanns Eisler, one of Brecht’s closest friends and collaborators reaffirmed the centrality of the prologue when he argues that by “writing this prologue, Brecht shows his true proletarian solidarity with the fighting Soviet Union.” Eisler also considers the prologue as the part of Brecht’s political genius because the “whole concept of the play proceeds on the basis of the prologue as the first scene” (57–58).

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The prologue was central to Brecht’s production in two significant ways. First, it resisted the linearity associated with the dramatic structure of the parable. Since Brecht’s play is a parable based on a Chinese story, it has a linear structure and symmetry of dramatic writing. By continuing to engage with the frame structure of the prologue, Brecht in the production undermined the innate symmetry of the parable. Interestingly, this was not the first time Brecht used this: it achieves the same effect in The Threepenny Opera, as Steve Giles explains. “The Threepenny Opera consists of three acts, each of which has three scenes and culminates in a ‘Threepenny Finale,’ but this symmetry is broken by the addition of a Prologue and an Interlude played in front of the curtain” (“Threepenny”). Second, the prologue functioned like Brecht’s Lehrstücke, or teaching plays, offering the actors/audiences, situated in the extra-diegetic space of the prologue, “a short master interpretation,” to use Barnett’s words (Brecht in Practice 86). In other words, the prologue taught how to reach the verdict or synthesis by thinking through the overarching Fabel, which is that the valley should go to the farmers who can use it productively. Brecht himself pointed to this aspect of the prologue when he repeated the overarching Fabel of the prologue in the micro-Fabel of the trial scene: “the trial is not about the maid’s claim to the child, but rather the child’s claim to a better mother” (“Detour” 299). It is evident from this brief examination of the prologue that it was central to Brecht’s production; however, it was eliminated in the Indian production. The removal of the prologue affected the Indian production in two ways. First, in the absence of the prologue, which interrupted the linearity of the inner play in Brecht’s production, the causal connection between one scene and the next remained intact. The presence of this connection enhanced the effect of the rasa in the Indian audiences.21 Second, without the prologue, which taught audiences to see the dialectical contradiction and to question the one-dimensional model of reality, the Indian production became a conventional parable highlighting a moral lesson. The production’s distance from the immediate socio-political environment of India further facilitated this turn to the moral structure of the parable. The Hindustani Theatre’s strategy of distancing itself from the current political surroundings of India was not the result of its espousal of Brecht’s Verfremdungseffekt, which allows the director to distance the audience from their geopolitical location to see their world in a new light, but was the result of the newly formed Indian nation. The concept of political activism became subservient to artistic activism with India’s independence in 1947, which brought with it the urge to revive classical and folk theatre traditions of the past in an attempt to create a national theatre.22 There is no doubt that there are more dialectical clues or micro-Fabels in the play to ensure the staging of the play as something more than a traditional parable but these clues remained underplayed in the Indian production because of two reasons. First, the production was the first staging of Brecht’s production in Hindustani; second, the actors were not properly trained, as many of them were shoe-shine boys, electricians and mechanics

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(Sathyu, Personal Interview 11 Dec. 2015). Having highlighted the effect of the removal of the prologue on the Indian production, I now analyse the marriage scene and demonstrate how in the absence of dialectical contradiction the critique of the institution of marriage, as Brecht envisaged, remained unfulfilled. Brecht divided the rectangular stage into two unequal halves using a wooden partition. The left side of the partition resembled the inner and private room of the house. In this inner room, we encountered six characters. At the centre of this half, the audience spotted Grusha with a monk who held a book of wedding rituals. Grusha’s brother stood next to the bed of the dying husband while Michael sat on the f loor under a table. At the periphery of the frame, the mother was visible. In the right half of the partition stood a group of peasants/wedding guests. This site for the marriage in Brecht’s production was comic since it highlighted “paradoxical situation” to demonstrate “the incongruities of capitalist social systems” (Silberman, Bertolt 170). By bringing out these incongruities of the capitalist social system, Brecht juxtaposed the institution of marriage with a bourgeois institution. The paradoxical aspect of the wedding was staged through the representation of the monk and Grusha and through the wedding feast. The monk in Brecht’s production held the book with his left hand and his right hand hung over the book as if he were about to perform a magic trick. With this representation, Brecht wanted to contradict the spiritual character of marriage by highlighting its magical aspect which was used by the bourgeois society to legitimise its structure. Furthermore, this representation undermined the spiritual power of the monk as it turned him into an ordinary conjurer or magician who was distracted from his religious duties. This staging of the monk extended further to his being inebriated and attending the marriage only to earn money. Moreover, in Brecht’s production, the dying husband’s bed was at the centre of this comedy of paradoxes. The stage prop of the bed was used to stage the distance between Grusha and the monk who stood on different sides of it. The spatial distance served as visual proof underlining the transactional aspect of their relation, and in turn pointed to the business-like quality of marriage which was further advanced through Grusha’s gaze on Michael. This gaze held up the tension between Grusha’s wish to marry the dying farmer on one hand and her love for Simon on the other. Although Sathyu’s execution of this scene resembled Brecht’s own when it came to the stage design, it differed from Brecht’s on two counts. First, Sathyu blocked the characters so that the monk’s hand was on Grusha’s head as they stood face to face in the foreground, while the husband laid on the f loor in the background. In this blocking, Grusha’s eyes were closed and she was dressed up as a bride. Importantly, Sathyu did not stage Grusha’s brother and Michael. Second, Sathyu allotted more space to the left half of the frame, giving more room to the wedding guests to perform their slapstick revelry. It is worthwhile to consider how this change of register expressed the

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traditional structure of morality affecting the discourse of Brechtian theatre in India. The monk’s gesture of placing his hand over the head of Grusha in the Indian production evoked the vatsalya rasa, or saint-like parental love, in the audience. Strictly speaking, the vatsalya rasa refers to the love between parents and children or elders and young people, but it often finds representation in Indian mythological stories in the love between saints and disciples. The canonical gesture of this rasa is of the hand of the elder on the head/face of the young and traditional Indian drama has made this gesture popular among Indian audiences in its countless replications. One such articulation can be seen in the musical dance theatre of Rasalila where it is presented in the form of love between Lord Krishna and his foster mother, Yashoda. Hindustani Theatre employed the gesture in its two previous adaptations of Kalidasa’s Shakuntala (1957–58, and 1959) while depicting the love between Sakuntala, the female protagonist, and her father, sage Vishwamitra. The audiences’ knowledge either of these adaptations or the trope of vatsalya in traditional Indian drama would have allowed them to see the paternal love between the monk and Grusha. With the help of this gesture, Sathyu succeeded in situating the text within the ambit of traditional Indian drama. Moreover, Sathyu’s monk, in the absence of Grusha’s brother on the stage, became a parent figure. Interestingly, Grusha’s brother was present in Brecht’s production to ensure the smooth transaction of the commodity, that is, Grusha. Although by resorting to the poetic realism of Indian theatre Sathyu could resist naturalistic theatre in India, this also bestowed a solemn and dignified character on the institution of marriage. The legitimisation of marriage stood in stark contrast to Brecht’s production where the monk resembled a comic figure of a magician. The legitimisation of marriage continued with the portrayal of Grusha who stood in front of the monk with her eyes closed. This gesture of closed eyes further underlined her complete submission to her dharma, or duty, and evoked the vira rasa in the audience. The vira rasa, according to Raghavabhatta, is “the notion not only of the heroic but of social obligation and duty, looking to the wider world of dharma” (paraphrased and cited in Thapar 186). The evocation of this emotion in the audience highlighted the virtuous status of Grusha and hinted at the triumph of morality. Moreover, Sathyu brought the monk and Grusha face to face and thus overcame the spatial distance that existed in their blocking in Brecht’s production. By blocking Grusha in close proximity with the monk on the stage, Sathyu registered her willingness to marry, which in turn, hinted at her submission to the ethical stance of dharma. Her proximity with the monk signified her ardent desire to continue with the marriage, transforming her into a symbol of self-sacrifice bound to her dharma of saving the child. This act of complete submission to the authority of dharma, a tenet in the traditional system of morality, stood in direct contrast to Brecht’s production, where Grusha was shown to be contradictory both through her distance from the monk and in her act of looking towards the

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child. Brecht insisted on stressing the contradiction in Grusha’s representation when he writes that [e]vil times make it dangerous for humane people to act humanely. Grusha the maid’s self-interest and her interest in the child are in conf lict with each other. She has to recognize both interests and attempt to be guided by both. This observation, I believe, leads to a richer and more dynamic portrayal of the role of Grusha. It is true. (“Detour” 299) Sathyu’s production further glorified marriage through Grusha’s representation. Grusha, an ordinary kitchen maid, was dressed in the wedding dress of a bride – as opposed to Brecht’s production, where she continued to wear her ordinary and disheveled attire. Her beauty was further emphasised in the Indian production with a celebratory hairstyle which required her to interweave f lowers into the braid. To make her beauty paramount and an essential part of the scene, Sathyu staged the body of the dying husband in the background, contrary to Brecht’s production, where the husband occupied the centre stage. This representation of Grusha was important because it evoked the sringara rasa of Indian aesthetics in the Indian audience. Discussing the sringara rasa, Raghavabhatta writes that it is “the love between the hero and the heroine as well as the universal love embodied in the ideals of the as[h]rama”23 (paraphrased and cited in Thapar 186). The evocation of this rasa in the audience through a representation that bordered on erotic and aesthetic was important in validating Grusha’s free will in accepting the ashrama or ideal of Grihastha, or married life. The expression of this free will to submit to the ideal of married life was fundamental to heroines in traditional Indian drama and the audience must have seen this connection, especially in the wake of Hindustani Theatre’s adaptation of such heroines such as Shakuntala in its previous productions. Not only Grusha’s free will was registered through her beauty to evoke the rasa but also through the absence of her child. The child was present in Brecht’s production and his presence underscored the real reason behind Grusha’s will to marry. By removing the child, Sathyu failed to highlight the fragmentary quality of this free will. We must consider the effect of these changes in the overall production. Brecht’s production critiqued the institution of marriage first by highlighting the magician-like character of the monk and second, by accentuating the reason behind Grusha’s marriage. In opposition to Brecht, Sathyu highlighted the romantic ideals of marriage. Sathyu endowed the monk with the power to evoke the emotion of parental love in the audience, and thus sanctified the institution. Second, he highlighted the virtues of Grusha – her interest in dharma (duty) and her acknowledgement of marriage as one of the ideals of human life, and thus underlined her free will to marry. Although these gestures activated the audience by encouraging them to create the rasa or heightened states of emotions, they could not produce the dissonance that

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was needed to create Brechtian aesthetics, which allows the audience to shift back and forth between empathy and alienation. The right half of the partition further articulated the structure of traditional morality in the Indian production. Unlike the left half, the frame was not split into background and foreground, which in turn provided a sense of simplicity, often associated with the peasant life. A vivid sense of folk life is conveyed by the onstage appearance of a party of peasants; and second, the atmosphere of celebration was created in this frame through the spirited and assertive gesture of murmuring into each other’s ears. Although Brecht’s execution of this part resembled Sathyu’s, it differed on two accounts: first, Brecht allocated less space to this side of the frame as opposed to Sathyu’s production, where it dominated the scene; and second, Brecht offered no distinct physical gestures to the wedding guests as they were forced into a tiny space leaving no room for individual gestures. By offering more space to this side of the frame, which dealt with the theme of the peasant’s revelry, Sathyu impressed upon the audience the power of marriage. In traditional Indian drama, marriage is presented as a site of lively and noisy festivities, and endless celebrations. Sathyu’s representation of marriage was moulded on this reading of the marriage. By endowing his characters with the animated gesture of murmuring, Sathyu drew the attention of the audience to the playfulness associated with the character of marriage. The guests’ relaxed gesture of murmuring converted the scene into an endless communal celebration. It was not a site of hustle-bustle but a site of repose and rest. The wedding here was a celebration of the social spirit as it gave a chance to the wedding guests to participate in the prandial speech. According to Bakhtin, “[p]randial speech is a free and jocular speech. The popular-festive right of laughter and clowneries, the right to be frank was extended to the table” (284). In fact, the wedding scene in the Indian production can be considered as an instance of what Dipesh Chakrabarty calls the adda – “the practice of friends getting together for long, informal, and unrigorous conversations” (Chakrabarty, Provincializing 181). It is this practice of careless talk that articulated the unifying power of marriage. Moreover, the wedding grounded the body as “the victory over the world in the act of eating was concrete, tangible, bodily” (Bakhtin 285). Thus, the wedding guests in their acts of playfulness, such as murmuring and smoking challenged the discourse of naturalistic theatre by privileging the metaphysics of body over speech. Simultaneously, wedding guests in their wedding attire further added to this environment of merry-making. This theatricalisation of marriage using Indian aesthetics transformed it into a site of rediscovery of India’s own traditions and gave us an insight into how Sathyu used Brechtian aesthetics. This site of inf luence was used for reminding the Indian audiences of their own cultural values and thus it highlighted the difference between the European and Indian variants of Brechtian theatre. Unlike Sathyu, Brecht satirised the marriage through the blocking of the wedding guests, in ordinary attire and “crammed into a tiny space” modelled

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on Breughel’s “Peasant’s Wedding” (Fuegi, Chaos 137). Not only did the ordinary attire of the guests take away the magic and enchantment associated with marriage, but it also pointed towards the civil war-torn world of the play. Moreover, with the act of cramming the guests into a tiny space, Brecht endowed his guests with the gesture of urgent haste. The guests were not there to celebrate or to partake in relaxed marriage conversations but to participate in the wedding feast, hence the reason behind modelling this frame on Breughel’s painting, which offers a realistic account of a peasant’s wedding-feast and shows guests indulging in gluttony. Contrary to the religious and spiritual world of Sathyu’s, which legitimised itself through the slapstick gesture of celebration and playfulness, Brecht’s wedding guests remained focused on the wedding feast and were self-indulgent and forgetful of the spiritual character of wedding. Although the use of Indian aesthetics to create the ritual of marriage in the Indian production challenged the dominant discourse of naturalistic theatre in India, it could not critique the institution of marriage. In fact, the gestures of Grusha, the monk and the peasants glorified and sanctified it. To elaborate further on how Sathyu’s use of poetic realism changed the discourse of Brechtian theatre in India, I turn to the mise-en-scène of the chalk-circle trial scene. Mise-en-scène is very important in Brecht because it physically manifests the political and economic forces of the real world on stage and helps the audiences to see how these forces constitute characters and of course, the audiences. Despite its similarities with Brecht’s play, Hindustani Theatre’s production differed from Brecht’s own staging of the post-civil war world. To situate the text within the geo-political circumstances of the times and to show the gradual shift from the aristocratic to the proletariat world of the post-war world, Sathyu’s mise-en-scène varied from spectacular and lavish in the beginning to spartan in the end. Audiences were left only with a chalk circle and Azdak’s chair (Sathyu, Personal Interview 11 Dec 2015) by the chalk-circle trial scene. In contrast to Sathyu, Brecht’s staging of the post-war world was detailed and elaborate as the mise-en-scène of the trial scene presented the gallows, prison and the chalk-circle. By stripping this scene of any stage-prop except Azdak’s chair and a chalk-circle, Sathyu completely abandoned any attempt to portray the world of Grusha and Natella Abashwili mimetically. More importantly, it shifted the attention of the audience from the verbal language of the production to the non-verbal language of gestures, sounds and movements of the actors, and encouraged them to use their interpretative agency. Using this agency, they were encouraged to create the power of the trial. Unlike naturalistic theatre, this engagement with the non-verbal grammar of the production enabled the audiences to stay active. This active engagement with the gestures of the characters on stage was important to trigger the rasa or the aesthetic pleasure. In fact, the scene must have evoked a wide range of rasas in the audience including Raudra (anger at Natella), Adbhuta (surprise at the decision of the

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judge), and Shanta (peace after the child was given to Grusha). Although Sathyu’s innovative use of poetic realism kept the audience active, it could not critique the world from a proletarian perspective because of its inability to offer dialectical clues to the audience that would allow them to connect the gestures of the characters to the socio-political world. This failure to articulate dialectical clues was the result of Sathyu’s spartan stage in the trial scene which contrasted to Brecht’s, where it was elaborate and comprehensive. The mise-en-scène of the trial scene in Brecht offered dialectical clues to the audiences in its staging of characters and props. With the chalk-circle scene in Brecht’s production, we returned to the world of judgement first seen in the egalitarian legal system of the farmers in the frame play of the prologue. The mise-en-scène presented the new world of justice through the stage props of prison, gallows and a chalk-circle.24 Brecht highlighted the shift from the aristocratic old world to the new world by making Azdak, a member of the working class, become the supreme judge. Tellingly, his rule was short-lived because the new world was not proletarian but “a private property and class system in which ownership is determined by the ruling elite through their soldiers and law courts” (Mumford 100). Azdak’s power was impressed upon the audience by his position on a wooden platform surrounded by the state apparatuses of the prison, the gallows and the chalk-circle. This direct and lucid blocking of Azdak surrounded by the state apparatuses showed the audience the real source of Azdak’s power and its correlation to the larger functioning of society. By laying bare the source of Azdak’s power, Brecht highlighted the correlation between state apparatuses and power and how in wrong hands – that is, in capitalist society – these instruments will become weapons against change. These props in the trial scene engaged with the outside world while Sathyu’s spartan stage gave no clues to the audience to engage with the outside world. The presence of these clues allowed the audience to move between identification and ref lection in Brecht’s production. The Indian production’s ambivalence towards socio-political backdrop offered no clues to create the Fabel dialectically. In the absence of these clues delineating dialectical associations, the audiences in the Indian production remained bound to the world of the play without any option to connect to the larger socio-political world. Without any attempt to connect audiences to the socio-political circumstances of India, the production continued to be just an instance of aesthetic activism without any political activism. However, the production’s aesthetic activism offered a glimpse to postcolonial Indian directors to realise the potential of traditional Indian theatre in constructing the new world. By the early 1960s, Indian theatre directors felt a need for a new model for a theatre based on traditional forms of aesthetics rather than the naturalistic aesthetics of urban theatre. This need was the direct result of the rise of cultural nationalism in the new nation, which promoted performance practices that resembled India’s own traditional theatre traditions. Reading against the backdrop of this need to seek theatre traditions that resembles India’s own

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performance practices, I have shown that Brechtian theatre in India is not simply the product of theatre directors’ rebellion against the conventions of naturalistic theatre but also the result of cultural nationalism. In other words, Brechtian theatre in India is not the result of a solitary dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India but is also a site highlighting Brechtian directors’ engagement with India’s own subversive theatre. Brechtian theatre in India is dialogic in that it communicates with many performance practices. Highlighting the presence of poetic realism, a characteristic feature of subversive Indian theatre, I have accentuated the difference between Brechtian theatre in India and its European counterpart. These diverse inf luences change the face of Brechtian theatre in India and offers it a uniqueness that underlines its pharmakonic character. Inf luence functions as a resistant space challenging the fixed essence of Brechtian theatre. This site of inf luence in the instance of Sufaid Kundali was not only an outward gaze but also an act of looking within. It is this act of looking within that allowed the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre to question the European variant of Brechtian theatre. Despite its borrowings from subversive Indian theatre, Brechtian theatre in India remained politically passive because it engaged only with the poetic realism of subversive Indian theatre rather than with its political activism manifested in the revolutionary use of two elements of the carnivalesque – the marketplace and the grotesque body. Moreover, I have shown that Sathyu’s engagement with India’s own carnivalesque tradition to create Brechtian theatre highlighted the subversive potential of India’s theatre traditions, which in turn, offered a solution to the new nation’s search for a national theatre. Recognising the usefulness of India’s own traditions, the new theatre also became a platform to decolonise Indian theatre from the Western theatre practices such as melodrama of the Parsi theatre and naturalistic theatre that became the norm during the colonial period. There is a myopic tendency to study only those attempts to create Brechtian theatre that emerged in direct response to the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India by analysing an attempt where Brechtian theatre emerged as a reaction to the sensibility that came with cultural nationalism.25 Sufaid Kundali’s engagement with Indian performance practices to address the nation’s call to create a national theatre articulated the difference between the Indian variant and the European variant of Brechtian theatre and punctuated the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. Sufaid Kundali’s story was not of inspiration but of recovery as Sathyu engaged with the cultural energies – pretexts (cultural nationalism), contexts (postcolonial India) and intertexts (subversive Indian theatre/Agra Bazaar) – to create his production. It represented not a trivialising appropriation of Brechtian aesthetics but an attempt in multiplying the poetic realist model of subversive Indian theatre. Sufaid Kundali’s novelty lay in its attempt to revive old networks of Indian theatre to negotiate with transcultural aesthetics. Despite its dissimilarities with Brecht, the production allowed Sathyu to break out of the dominant matrix of naturalistic theatre in India and highlighted the role Indian aesthetics could

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play in the new nation. By disseminating this discourse of the national theatre with the help of Brecht, Indian theatre directors like Sathyu unconsciously wrote Brecht into the nation.

Notes 1 Brecht was produced in India before this but never in Hindi or what was called at that time Hindustani. 2 A personal friend of Jawaharlal Nehru, Begum Qudsia Zaidi (henceforth called Qudsia), founded Hindustani Theatre with another playwright and theatre director, Tanvir. One other person who remained important to the origins of Hindustani Theatre is the Punjabi playwright and theatre director Balwant Gargi. The group started as an amateur group in 1955, and by 1957–58 it was “one of the first urban professional theatre companies of independent India” (“About Hindustani Theatre”). 3 Moreover, the performance was preceded by an exhibition on Brecht consisting of pictures of productions and films on Brecht or by Brecht. Unusually for the time, it exhibited Brechtian productions from all over the world (Sathyu, Personal Interview 11 Dec. 2015). Additionally, since Brecht was produced for the first time in India, the exhibition served as an introduction for the audience to Brecht’s politics. The importance of the exhibition can be measured from the fact that Weigel personally showed her gratitude towards the group for the exhibition in her telegram to them, which was reproduced in the first issue of its journal, Hindustani Theatre: A Monthly Journal of the Arts. 4 There is no critical commentary available on the performance in English. In fact, Dharwadker, Dalmia and Bharucha, the three stalwarts on the scholarship on Brecht in India, don’t mention the performance. One commentary, based on the interview of the director, M.S. Sathyu, exists in Hindi (Sathyu, “Theatre Niyamit”). 5 Sathyu acknowledged his debt to Habib Tanvir’s theatre (Sathyu, Personal Interview 11 Dec. 2015). 6 Bakhtin argues that the grotesque is revived in the twentieth-century in two forms: the modernist form (in writers like Alfred Jarry); and realist grotesque (in writers such as Thomas Mann, Brecht) (46). 7 In the context of dance, these gestures “were abstracted from the naturalistic representation and developed into symbols and patterns which signified the dance at a higher level” (Anand, The Indian Theatre 17). 8 Hindustani Theatre’s turn towards Indian aesthetics was the result of the nation’s attempt to revive pre-colonial performance practices. One such attempt was of a 3-day Seminar on “Contemporary Playwriting and Play-Production” organised by the Bharatiya Natya Sangh in New Delhi from 31 March to 2 April 1961. One idea that remained integral to the seminar was of extending the framework of Sanskrit theatre to contemporary drama practices. This idea became quite clear in the discussion that followed V. Raghavan’s paper on “Production of Sanskrit Plays its Values for Contemporary Theatre and Problems of Production.” J.C. Mathur, a discussant informed the audience that the best way to learn how to extend this framework is to go back to the folk theatre, which is “an aspect of the Sanskrit tradition” and learn from the folk artist how to adjust successfully “the original styles and techniques [of the Sanskrit tradition] to suit the taste and requirements of his contemporary audiences” (Raghavan 70). Prof M.M. Bhalla, another discussant remarks that “Sanskrit themes, if and when assimilated imaginatively, will possibly open a new avenue for the development of drama”

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9

10

11 12

13 14

15

16

17 18 19

(Raghavan 69). Habib Tanvir, another discussant, and a close friend of Sathyu said that contemporary playwrights must learn “from these classics which are excellent theatre if handled imaginatively” (Raghavan 69). Sathyu’s decision to engage with the poetic realism of traditional Indian drama should be read alongside these suggestions. In my interview with Shama Zaidi (9 Dec. 2015), assistant director and the actor who played the character of Grusha, she recalled that how the prologue was nothing more than a symbol of the communist philosophy of East Germany. Probably, Zaidi’s comment was a ref lection of the climate of post-1962 India. After the Sino-India War of 1962, communism was seen negatively. The exhibition was held in Azad Bhawan from 10 to 19 February 1963. The exhibition programme included three items: Brecht’s life through slides; scenes from Hindustani Theatre’s forthcoming production of Sufaid Kundali; and the screening of Brecht’s Mother Courage, a film version of the original stage production by the Berliner Ensemble. The programme was organised by the Indian Council for Cultural Relations and the Hindustani Theatre with the help of the Trade Representation of the German Democratic Republic in India. The description of the plates survived in a booklet in Bertolt Brecht Archive, Akademie Der Künste, Berlin. I have cited from the booklet (Begleitheft). One of the objectives of the group was to lay bare “the rich wealth of Sanskrit classical plays… to the contemporary audience in popular yet literary idiom, in operatic and dance forms that were the aesthetic foundations of traditional plays” (“About Hindustani Theatre”). This journal was published by Hindustani Theatre and the first issue of this journal is a dedicated issue on Brecht. Tanvir attended London’s Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts; during his stay in Europe, he saw many productions including performances by the Berliner Ensemble though he couldn’t meet Brecht who died few weeks before Tanvir arrived in Germany in 1956. These Brechtian productions remained a constant source of inspiration throughout his career after his return to India. Over the years, he brought many changes to the original 1955 production, which probably were inspired by Brecht. Although I acknowledge the changes in the dramatic form of Tanvir’s theatre due to his exposure to Brecht’s aesthetics, in this chapter, I analyse the first production of Tanvir’s Agra Bazaar that remained insulated from Brecht’s inf luences since it was produced before Tanvir went to Europe. I deliberately do not engage with the changes in the dramatic and performance text of the play due to Tanvir’s exposure to Brecht. The word “nai” means “new,” and the word “Nautanki” refers to a musical form of Hindi theatre that was widely prevalent in North India. The folk drama is called Nautanki because of one popular play which has a princess called Nautanki. Etymologically, the term means “a woman whose weight was only 36 grams” (Hansen, Grounds 9). In fact, in her extensive study of the theatre of roots, Erin Mee did not include the theatre of Tanvir within the larger project because she identified it not as a revivalist project but rather as a project that used “traditional performance.” The Indian Council of Cultural Relations is an organisation of the Government of India involved in cultural exchange and activities with other countries and their people. There is limited archival information available on these performances, but it is clear from the Hindustani Theatre’s website that six performances took place in 1963. I could find the actual date of only one performance – 9 July 1963 in the Azad Bhavan, New Delhi – in two newspapers, The Times of India and Hindustan Times.

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Performing Brecht on the Indian stage  87 ———. In the Name of the Secular: Contemporary Cultural Activism in India. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 1998. Print. ———. Theatre and the World: Performance and the Politics of Culture. London: Routledge, 1993. Print. ———. Terror and Performance. New Delhi: Tulika Books, 2014. Print. Bhatia, Nandi. “Staging a Change: Modern Indian Drama and the Colonial Encounter.” Diss. University of Texas at Austin 1996. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Aug. 2014. ———. Acts of Authority, Acts of Resistance: Theater and Politics in Colonial and Postcolonial India. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2004. Print. ———. ed. Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. Print. ———. “Modern Indian Theatre: An Introduction.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. XI–XXXIX. Print. ———. Performing Women/Performing Womenhood: Theatre, Politics, and Dissent in North India. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2010. Print. Brandist, Craig. “Introduction: The ‘Bakhtin Circle’ in Its Own Time and Ours.” Studies in East European Thought 67.3–4 (2015): 123–128. Web. Dalmia, Vasudha. The Nationalization of Hindu Traditions: Bharatendu Harischandra and Nineteenth-Century Banaras. Delhi: Oxford U P, 1997. Print. ———. Poetics, Plays, and Performances: The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2008. Print. Dalmia-Lüderlitz, Vasudha. “Brecht on the North Indian Hindi Stage: Facts & Figures.” Communications from the International Brecht Society 17.1 (1987): 53–61. Print. ———. “Brecht in Hindi: The Poetics of Response.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 16 ( Jan.– Mar. 1988): 59–72. Print. ———. “To Be More Brechtian Is to Be More Indian: On the Theatre of Habib Tanvir.” The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre, Own and Foreign. Eds. Erika Fischer-Lichte, Josephine Riley and Michael Gissenwehrer. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 1990. 221–235. Print. Derrida, Jacques. Dissemination. Trans. Barbara Johnson. London: Athlone Press, 1981. Print. Dharwadker, Aparna. “John Gay, Bertolt Brecht, and Postcolonial Antinationalisms.” Modern Drama 38.1 (1995): 4–21. Print. ———. Theatres of Independence: Drama, Theory, and Urban Performance in India since 1947. Iowa City: U of Iowa P, 2005. Print. Eisler, Hanns. Brecht, Music and Culture: Hanns Eisler in Conversation with Hans Bunge. Trans. Sabine Berendse and Paul Clements. Eds. Sabine Berendse and Paul Clements. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. Foucault, Michel. This is Not a Pipe. Trans. James Harkness. Ed. James Harkness. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Print. ———. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. Alan M. Sheridan-Smith. London: Routledge, 1989. Fuegi, John. The Essential Brecht. Los Angeles: Hennessey & Ingalls, 1972. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht: Chaos, According to the Plan. London: Cambridge U P, 1987. Print. Gerow, Edwin. “Plot Structure and the Development of Rasa in the Sakuntala. Pt. 1.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 99.4 (1979): 559–572. Print. Giles, Steve. “A New Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 9–18. Print.

88  Performing Brecht on the Indian stage ———. “The Threepenny Opera.” Writing Brecht. Oxford University 2016. Web. 7 Nov. 2017. Hansen, Kathryn. “Indian Folk Traditions and the Modern Theatre.” Asian Folklore Studies 42.1 (1983): 77–89. Print. ———. Grounds for Play: The Nautanki Theatre of North India. Berkeley: U of California P, 1991. Print. ———. “Languages on Stage: Linguistic Pluralism and Community Formation in the Nineteenth-Century Parsi Theatre.” Modern Asian Studies 37.2 (2003): 381– 405. Print. ———. “Foreword.” The Parsi Theatre: Its Origins and Development. By Somnant Gupt. Trans. Kathryn Hansen. New Delhi: Seagull Books, 2005. vii–xiii. Print. Heyman, Micheal. “Uncovering the Tenth Rasa: An Introduction.” The Tenth Rasa: An Anthology of Indian Nonsense. Eds. Michael Heyman, Sumanyu Satpathy and Anushka Ravishankar. Delhi: Penguin, 2007. xix–xliii. Print. Jain, Kirti. “Natya Samaroh: Nehru Shatabdi Natya Samaroh.” Natarang 14.53 (1990): 65–70. Print. ———. “Theatre Training: Some Issues.” Rasa: The Indian Performing Arts in the Last Twenty-Five Years. Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Vol. II. Eds. Ananda Lal and Chidananda Dasgupta. Calcutta: Anamika Kala Sangam, 1995: 63–70. Print. ———. “Theatre Education.” The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Ed. Ananda Lal. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2004: 488–490. Print. Jain, Nemichandra. “Dilli Ka Rangmanch.” Natarang 4.14 (1970): 49–56. Print. ———. “Nautanki.” The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Ed. Ananda Lal. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2004: 312–313. Print. Mee, Erin Baker. “Decolonizing Modern Indian Theatre: The Theatre of Roots.” Diss. New York University 2004. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Oct. 2004. ———. Theatre of Roots: Redirecting the Modern Indian Stage. London: Seagull, 2007. Print. ———. “The Fight for Regional Autonomy through Regional Culture: Antigone in Manipur, North-East India.” Antigone on the Contemporary World Stage. Eds. Erin B. Mee and Helene P. Foley. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2011. 107–126. Print. Montaut, Annie. “Parody as Positive Dissent in Hindi Theatre.” Orientalia Suecana LX (2011): 20–32. Print. Mumford, Meg. Bertolt Brecht. Hoboken: Taylor & Francis, 2009. Print. Pandey, Gyanendra. Remembering Partition: Violence, Nationalism and History in India. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 2004. Print. Plato. The Symposium and the Phaedo. Trans. Raymond Larson. Ed. Raymond Larson. Wheeling: Harlan Davidson, 1980. Print. Prateek. “Reinterpreting Passion: A Study of Habib Tanvir’s Theatre.” Australasian Drama Studies. Vol. 68. 2016: 168–186. Print. Raghavan, Venkataraman. “Production of Sanskrit Plays Its Values for Contemporary Theatre and Problems of Production.” Contemporary Playwriting and Play Production: Report of Seminar. Delhi: Bharatiya Natya Sangh, 1961. 52–71. Print. Sathyu, Mysore Shrinivas. “An Exhibition on Bertolt Brecht and his Theatre, New Delhi, Azad Bhawan, 10–19 February 1963.” Bertolt Brecht Archiv Austellungen. Berlin: Akademie Der Kunste Archiv, 1963. 1–16. ———. “Theatre Niyamit Hona Jaroori.” Interview with M.S. Sathyu. By Suresh Vashishtha. Natarang 14.55 (1991): 45–48. Print. ———. Personal Interview. 11 Dec. 2015.

Performing Brecht on the Indian stage  89 Sengupta, Sachin. “Speech of the Seminar Director.” Indian Drama in Retrospect. New Delhi: Sangeet Natak Akademi, 2007. 17–20. Print. Silberman, Marc. “A Postcolonial Brecht?.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch 36 (2011): 241–247. Print. ———. “Bertolt Brecht, Politics, and Comedy.” Social Research 79.1 (2012): 169–188. Print. Sutradhar. “Shakuntala: Two Views – A Play Built on Moods.” Natya: Theatre Arts Journal Spring-Summer Number (1958): 37–39. Print. Tanvir, Habib. “Brecht for One Producer.” Enact 15 (1968): n. pag. Print. ———. “Habib Tanvir Se Antrang Baatcheet.” By Vibhu Kumar. Natarang 6.21 (1972): 43–50. Print. ———. “Theatre is in the Villages.” Social Scientist 2.22 (1974): 32–41. Print. ———. “Habib Tanvir Interviewed.” By Rajinder Paul. Enact 87 (1974): n. pag. Print. ———. Shajapur Ki Shantibai. 1978. Collection of Nagin Tanvir, Bhopal. ———. “It Must Flow – A Life in Theatre.” Seagull Theatre Quarterly: A Journal of Contemporary Performance and Theatre in India 10 (1996): 3–38. Print. ———. Agra Bazaar. Calcutta: Seagull, 2006. Print. Thapar, Romila. Sakuntala: Texts, Readings, Histories. New York: Columbia U P, 2010. Print. Zaidi, Shama. “Towards a Popular Theatre.” Hindustani Theatre: A Monthly Journal of the Arts 1.1&2 (1963): 1–4. Print. ———. Personal Interview. 9 Dec. 2015.

3

Politicising Brecht A study of Fritz Bennewitz’s theatre

Gestus is a physical manifestation of “overall attitudes. A language is gestic when it is grounded in a gestus and conveys particular attitudes adopted by the speaker towards other persons,” writes Brecht (Brecht, “On Gestic Music” 167). Gestic realism in India between the 1960s and the 1970s created a new strain of political theatre, which differed from Brechtian theatre in Europe. In the Indian context, this idiom of Gestic realism was significant on two counts. First, it differed from the prevalent conventions of political theatre in India, which were either Socialist realist (content-based) or naturalistic (mimetic).1 Second, the “unstageability” of certain aspects of Gestic realism provided both a resistance to the bourgeois institution of theatre, which according to Brecht “can stage anything: it ‘theatricalizes’ it all” (“Notes on Threepenny” 71), and a sense of recognition to the Indian audience. If this resistance was due to the aesthetics of Gestic realism, which was produced in the psyche of the activated audience rather than on stage, then the recognition was primarily because of a connection between Gestic realism and the “poetic realism” of traditional Indian theatre.2 Bennewitz’s act of creating the Indian Gestus that could engage with the social and political contexts of the target audience resulted in the difference between the Indian variant and the European variant of Brechtian theatre. By privileging the Indian Gestus over the European, Bennewitz rewrote the discourse of Brechtian inf luence from a reaffirmation of purity and hierarchy to an assertion of the pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre in India. Although Bennewitz – resident director at the Deutsches Nationaltheater between 1960 and 1990 in the East German city of Weimar, German Democratic Republic (GDR) – was the second German director to come to India to disseminate Brechtian theatre (Carl Weber was the first), I have chosen his production partly because he was the first to introduce the method of adapting Brecht as Indian actors learned the art of implementing Brechtian aesthetics such as Gestus. Uttara Baokar, an actor who worked with both directors, highlights this fact when she reveals that in Weber’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle, in which she played Grusha’s role, “I didn’t really come to grips with the practical side of the theory at all …. So it was as Polly Peachum [in Bennewitz’s production of The Threepenny Opera] that I finally understood in

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practice what I had known in theory all along” (206). Partly, I selected Bennewitz because he favoured the idea of intercultural theatre,3 understanding the nuances of cultural and historical sensitivity. His regard for intercultural theatre became clear in his attempt to construct a new Gestus that remained comprehensible to the local audience. In many of his interviews, he discussed the idea of embedding the dramatic text within the context of the country of production to construct intercultural theatre. He confirmed that the role of his theatre was to offer an “experience” to audiences based upon their own “social, cultural, ethnic development” (Bennewitz, “Theatre for the Masses” 6). Focusing on his productions in India, he articulated his idea of “integration” or “assimilation” of the dramatic text into the specific contexts of India, when he noted that integration means “absorbing the play by the Indian social and cultural sensitiveness” (Bennewitz, “Some Notes” 2). Rolf Rohmer marked out this aspect of Bennewitz’s vision when he called his theatre a “historically aware” phenomenon with the power to inf luence society (297). This theatrical vision, which proposes intercultural dialogue, allowed Bennewitz to incorporate the cultural and political contexts of the target audience and therefore transformed the production of Teen Take Ka Swang into an intercultural theatre. Discussing the significance of Bennewitz within the discipline of intercultural theatre, Joerg Esleben, Rolf Rohmer and David John write that Bennewitz did not have any urge to benefit from non-Western cultures but he had the desire to bring about change in one theatre system and culture by use of elements from other cultures; the transfer of theatre from one culture to another for political or ideological purposes; the didactic purpose of encouraging cultures to learn about one another; and the negotiation of cultural differences, conf licts, and hybrid identities in contact zones. (15) In his attempt to construct Indian Gestus, Bennewitz tried to weave the cultural – and to an extent the political – threads of India into the fabric of the performance. It was this act of interweaving that made Bennewitz’s performance an early example of intercultural theatre. Two instances of Gestus – the Gestus of the marriage scene where Macheath carries his bride in his arms and the Gestic music of the Indian composer, Vanraj Bhatia – demonstrate how Bennewitz constructed both the Indian version of Brechtian theatre and intercultural theatre. The Gestus is dependent on the geo-political location of the target audience, meaning that a Gestus constructed in an Indian production would likely be incomprehensible to the Western audience, and vice versa. It was this difference that turned the site of inf luence into an ambivalent space, challenging the universally accepted notion of Brechtian theatre. More importantly, the dependence of Gestus on its geo-political context further provides evidence to the argument that Brechtian theatre in India is not a mirror image of its German counterpart but a pharmakon.

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The trajectory of existing political theatre in India helps highlight how the introduction of Gestic realism contributed to the formation of a new strain of political theatre in India. Moreover, this trajectory underlines the objectives behind the emergence of Brechtian theatre in India. The Indian variant came into existence to articulate the anxieties of the postcolonial nation, which the existing political theatre in India could not represent, making its objective different from its European counterpart.

Political theatre in India and Brecht Political theatre as a concept emerged very early in India during the colonial period when it was used as a vehicle to resist colonial discourse. The first important drama of social protest was Dinabandhu Mitra’s Bengali play, Nil Darpan (published in 1860). The play dramatises the merciless treatment of Bengali Indigo planters by the British planters as they were forced to sow indigo in their fields. The play evoked public emotions “in Bengal against British rule and paved the way for a host of patriotic works written along similar lines elsewhere in the country” (Richmond, “The Political Role” 319). One such patriotic work, which was one of the earliest examples of political theatre in the Hindi belt, was Bharatendu Harishchandra’s 1881 political allegory Andheri Nagari (Dark City). Unlike Nil Darpan, which directly criticised the British planters by depicting the plight of the farmers, Harishchandra allegorised the harrowing condition of India under the British rule by depicting the fate met by a Guru’s disciple in a strange dark city, a reference to India under colonial rule. The play was written in the melodramatic style of Parsi theatre, which was well-suited for propaganda theatre. Harishchandra was probably inspired to use veiled allegory to propagate nationalism because of the implementation of the Dramatic Performances Act of 18764 and the Vernacular Press Act of 1878 by the British. If the first wave of political theatre in the Hindi belt employed allegory using the conventions of melodrama, then the second wave dealt with realism – especially Socialist realism.5 Richmond underlines this shift when he commented, “Undoubtedly, the triumph of Socialist realism in Russian art and literature during the previous decade stimulated sympathetic Indian playwrights and producers” (“The Political Role” 322). The IPTA, founded in 1943 as the cultural wing of the Communist Party of India, facilitated this transition since it helped in promoting the dissemination of Socialist realism. The major success of this phase was Bijon Bhattacharya’s Bengali drama, Nabanna, staged by the IPTA in 1944. The performance’s theme was the Bengal famine of 1943, in which millions of Indians died. One of the chief strategies employed by the IPTA “for making political propaganda palatable to the common people was to garb it in the familiar forms of traditional theatre of a region” (Richmond, “The Political Role” 324). However, the IPTA, which seemed to be the driving force behind the political theatre, dwindled with independence and the rise of the Indian nation-state. Nandi Bhatia elaborates

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in her study of the IPTA, as noted in the Introduction, that cultural productions appearing to be subversive were removed from “state-controlled university curricula and various government-funded cultural organizations” (Acts of Authority 92). Bhatia’s ref lection on the IPTA was indicative of the change that came in postcolonial India. Under this new climate, loyalties and allegiances changed. Discussing one instance of such a change, Qamar Azad Hashmi, the mother of slain theatre-activist Safdar Hashmi, reveals that [u]nfortunately a section of the left-wing intellectual and political workers, who had played a prominent role in these [anti-imperialist] movements, chose, after Independence, to become the right hand of the ruling Congress party. Accepting commendatory copper plaques and other benefits doled out by the government to erstwhile ‘freedom fighters,’ they sought compensation for their sacrifices during the struggle, compromising more and more with the ruling party as the years went by. (8) In the wake of this dwindling of old forms of political theatre, postcolonial Indian playwrights sought a new political form to help them in what Homi Bhabha calls “narrating the nation” (“Narrating” 306). Bennewitz’s introduction of Brechtian aesthetics provided an answer to the quest for this new political form. Perhaps the interest in this new aesthetics was due to its resemblance with the pre-colonial traditions of India. Balwant Gargi, an Indian theatre director who met Brecht, recounts this similarity: “While watching Brecht’s theatrical devices, they [Indians] were discovering the wealth of their own tradition and neglected folk forms” (“The Caucasian Chalk Circle: From Three Angles” v). For example, the Gestic realism of Brecht resembled the poetic realism of Indian theatre, and relied on the stylisation of Asian theatre to take a stand against naturalistic theatre: [t]he most important problem of the modern era in the theatre, however, is the basic contradiction between the symbolism of the Indian heritage in drama, with its poetic realism, and the naturalism of the Western theatre which percolated into India, devoid of its own organic sensibility, poetry and mechanical perfection. (Anand, “Indian Theatre in the Context” 287) These similarities did not escape the notice of Ebrahim Alkazi, the director of the National School of Drama. Contextualising the usefulness of Brecht and his strategies to create a politically sensitive theatre in India he equated Gandhi with Brecht and observed that “[b]oth had implicit faith in the working class and peasants and identified with ordinary people and also with illiterates” (247). Thus, Alkazi invited Bennewitz, a Brechtian director, to India to direct one of Brecht’s plays. As Bennewitz remembers: “the concept was aired to bring Brecht’s concept and method of theatre together with the traditional theatre of Asia, Africa, Latin America. Under those auspices, I came first to

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India in 1970 on a production-oriented workshop at the National School of Drama” (“Interview Sunday” 1). Although Alkazi’s intention to invite Bennewitz was clearly cultural, the reason behind Bennewitz’s arrival to India was interpreted differently. One such interpretation was mentioned in an anonymous document in Bennewitz’s archive, which considers Bennewitz’s arrival in India as a part of GDR’s politics – that is to support GDR’s “Trade Mission in New Delhi by means of the production” and “to strengthen the already widespread movement for official recognition of the GDR.” This documents further clarifies that it was also an attempt to “battle in India’s capital against the massive cultural demagoguery of the West German embassy” (this cultural demagoguery refers to West German director, Carl Weber’s 1969 Delhi production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle), and challenge the West German embassy’s plan to “usurp Brecht for its purposes as part of an ‘all-German culture’” (cited in Esleben Rohmer and John 25). Although it is evident from this anonymous document that different views exist behind Bennewitz’s visit to India, for Indian writers and theatre directors the fascination with Brechtian aesthetics began as a romantic exercise to articulate the importance of the nation-state by revisiting lost pre-colonial traditions. As shown in the next section, however, Brechtian aesthetics took the form of a critique of the nation-state and its inability to eradicate social problems and evils such as poverty, language-wars and the dowry system. The Threepenny Opera, associated with the climate of anxiety and poverty, was likely chosen for this reason. Weighing the possibility of an American production of The Threepenny Opera, the cultural critic Theodor Adorno, in a 1942 letter to Kurt Weill, the music composer for the original production, writes that America was “not yet ready to accept the authentic Dreigroschenoper, which is inseparably tied to a climate of crisis” (cited in Kowalke 92). Perhaps Bennewitz produced the play in India because it was tied to the climate of crisis on the Indian sub-continent in the late 1960s. In the Brecht dialogue of 1968, Alkazi, then director of NSD, drew the world’s attention to these problems in his speech that 90 percent of the people live in villages and “still very poor” (247). Elaborating on the impact of poverty on the lives of everyday people, Alkazi noted that we see “the poorest of the poor,” “beggars” dying on the streets and “labourers” who must work in terrible heat for a little money (247–248). Bennewitz underlined the appropriateness of the play to the Indian context when he stated that “[d]espite its limitation as a philosophical guide to action, this play, even in India, possesses a certain topicality which was wittily and ironically underscored in the prologue written by the students themselves” (“Teaching and Learning” 13). Not only were these aspects of poverty and class difference intelligible to Bennewitz, but also to the audience. As Duve, one of the reviewers of the 1970 production mentions that in Old-Delhi and in Indian slums, thousands live in “the streets” and “sleep in dirt and heat” (1). He further adds that “[i]n the parking lot of the theater, a five-year old boy is waiting until late at night for the return of the driver” who will give him “some baksheesh [tip]” (1).

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Brecht’s critique of the bourgeois system in the performance is wellestablished as seen in Bentley’s statement that “[i]f in The Good Woman of Setzuan Brecht shows you can’t be good under capitalism, in Threepenny he shows you can be happy under capitalism – if you are prepared to be bad” (Bentley on Brecht 274). This critique of the bourgeois system was presented through Bennewitz’s assessment of class differences and how they eventually led to poverty in India. Discussing Bennewitz’s attack on the bourgeois system, one reviewer explicitly stated that “Brecht’s message had been deliberately understated” in the Weber’s 1968 production of Chalk Circle while Bennewitz in his production with “startling clarity” attacked bourgeois society (cited in Bennewitz, “Teaching and Learning” 14). The reviewer’s comment shows that Bennewitz politically situated the performance text within the ambit of satire and humour to critique the bourgeois society that promoted poverty. Furthermore, it was easy to transfer The Threepenny Opera’s topicality to the historical and cultural backgrounds of India. Like England, India had a stratified class system where the poor suffered and the rich lived happily. The climate of the late sixties in India was one of political ferment, the aftermath of two major wars: with China in 1962 and with Pakistan in 1965. Both wars had a disastrous impact on India’s economic growth, which was compounded by famines in which thousands died. The food shortages that followed in the wake of the famines triggered armed uprisings of poor peasants in Naxalbari and adjoining areas. Politically, the 1960s marked the collapse of the era of hope that begun with independence in 1947, and the end of the leadership of Jawaharlal Nehru, who died in 1964. The country, on account of inf lation, political unrest, and famines, found itself amidst deep and widespread poverty. The reference to colonisation in the “cannon song” further embedded the performance text within the context of India, informing audiences that both Tiger Brown and Macheath came to colonial India as imperial soldiers. The theme of colonisation in the 1960s was a politically charged one given that India only won its independence in 1947 and still fought to overcome the last remnants of colonisation, invading Goa in 1961 to end Portuguese colonial rule. The colonial intentions of these characters were noticed by the audience as Duve mentions: “Now they came back to the now independent India, the smug police officer and his dashing mate” (1). Any mention of colonisation at a time when the country was still trying to recover from its aftermath could only be seen as an act of political engagement. The new aesthetics that communicated with India’s social and political surroundings were suited for social critique yet went beyond the tradition of Socialist realism, which had lost its appeal in India after the death of Stalin in 1953 and the demise of the IPTA in 1949. The introduction of this aesthetics based on Brecht’s principles was significant because it marked a formation of a variant of political theatre that drifted away from the ideals of Socialist realism, which was defined by Adorno as “boy meets tractor literature” (Adorno

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173). Moreover, the importance of this new political theatre can be gauged from the fact that this was the first time since Independence in 1947 when a director politicised both the poetics and content of the production. Unlike theatre based on Socialist realism, the new Indian political theatre based on Brechtian aesthetics was not primarily a content-based phenomenon, built upon the principles of the agitprop theatre of the Soviet Union. In contrast to this propagandist form of political theatre, the new Indian political theatre deployed aesthetics committed to the presentation of dialectical contradictions as its chosen weapon to generate resistance. This resistance worked on two levels. First, it opposed the social injustices perceived as responsible for society’s problems, such as capitalism and poverty. Second, it resisted the mechanics of bourgeois theatre: that is, it revolutionised the theatre apparatus by moving away from mimetic representation strategies. Tellingly, the new Indian political theatre enabled a critique of society through the presentation of content using Brechtian aesthetics. Brecht himself underscored this power of form in his refusal to separate form from content. The Brecht-Lukács debate of the 1930s was a good example of Brecht’s commitment to a form that corresponds to reality rather than “a falsification of reality” (Brecht, “Against Georg Lukács” 73).6 Specifically in the context of the play, Brecht has commented that “The Threepenny Opera engages with bourgeois ideas not only as content, in that it represents them, but also through the way it represents them” (“Notes on Threepenny” 71). For Brecht, the aesthetic form of Gestic realism was as radically political as the content of the play and without its existence epic theatre could not be staged.

Gestus and Bennewitz’s production The first three performances of Teen Take Ka Swang took place on 13–15 April 1970, and were the outcome of a two-month-long production workshop conducted by Bennewitz from 19 February to 12 April 1970 with the students of the National School of Drama. The play was translated into Urdu through the combined efforts of Surekha Sikri and Sheila Bhatia, who translated the prose and songs, respectively. I provide a quick description of the performance and show that despite its resemblance to the original production, which was directed by Erich Engel and stage-designed by Caspar Neher on 31 August 1928, it formed a new variant on account of Bennewitz’s intelligent use of Gestus. Because of its differences from the European counterpart, Brechtian theatre in India forms an alternative space, resisting any attempt to assign a fixed essence or definite power to Brechtian theatre in Europe. Neither the setting of the play – the Victorian neighbourhood of Soho in London – nor the names of the characters were Indianised. In terms of vestimentary practices (including the wedding dress worn by Polly), the resemblance between this production and the original was obvious: the costumes remained almost loyal to the original production with male characters outfitted in black tuxedoes, bow ties and hats, and women in skirts or half-pants,

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along with hats. Despite these resemblances between the two productions, a photograph of the marriage scene in the Indian production, where Macheath carries the bride in his arms, presents a significant difference. Importantly, this scene critiqued the bourgeois system through “a series of pregnant moments [or Gestus],” to borrow Barthes’s words (Image 73). On analysing the performance text, we observe the persistence of the dramatic device of Gestus, which remained central to Bennewitz’s theatre. I look at three such pregnant moments – the “bodily gesture” of holding the bride, the “physical posture” of holding the lantern and the “visual gesture” of looking at the audience – to highlight Bennewitz’s use of Gestus. The overall picture to emerge out of this scene was of the pervasive commodification of human relations. By converting gestures into social Gestus, a non-mimetic device that “allows conclusions to be drawn about the social circumstances” (Brecht, “On Gestic Music” 168), Bennewitz created a new theatrical idiom in postcolonial India. Altogether, this study of gestural system articulates the process of transformation in the context of India. Bennewitz’s representation of the marriage scene clearly highlighted what Brecht called “an intimate connection between sentiment and swindle” (Brecht, “Notes on Threepenny” 75). The photograph of this scene, published in the book The Theatre of E. Alkazi (“NSD: Assimilating the Past” 102), exhibits a stage which is set at an angle, marking a clear split between background and foreground. The foreground highlights a crest that depicts a unicorn and a panther on the wooden palette. The background presents Mackie Messer, or Macheath, carrying his bride Polly Peachum over the threshold in her wedding dress, accompanied by one of his gang members, who stares at the bride while holding in one hand a lantern in a self-conscious, stylised manner, and in the other a gun. Unlike the gang member, Macheath looks attentively at the audience. What is noteworthy about the scene is the economy of props (only a crest and a table) on the stage, and how these props contribute to the larger arc of the Fabel. As Brecht notes in 1931, “the bourgeoisie suffer from a delusion that explains their fondness for robbers: that a robber is not a bourgeois” (“Notes on Threepenny” 75). The set, with its limited use of the props, did not seek to create a truthful view of real life, but rather a view of reality that was “depicted in quotation marks,” to use Bradley’s phrase (73), as audiences confronted the newly married bride and her husband on the stage. Bennewitz’s use of wood with minimalist props defied the conventions of illusionistic theatre, and the set resembled the acting space of the studio rather than a real location. Not only did it succeed in aesthetically distancing the audience, but it also articulated the original setting of Brecht’s play inside the stable. The crest, visible both on the wooden palette and on the table, seemed to evoke the insignia of some bourgeois enterprise. Macheath, in the background, was called upon to play the role of a seasoned employee who knows how to present a product to the audience/buyers. One such buyer in the scene was Macheath’s gang member, while the bride herself became the commodity

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on display. Bennewitz amplified the gesture of commodifying human relations by letting Macheath carry the bride in his arms as if she were an object to be auctioned by a seasoned salesman. Clearly, in the Indian context, the gesture of holding the bride, especially in light of the lantern and Macheath’s gaze, arrested and unsettled the narrative. With this gesture, the postcolonial inter-text of Brecht’s play was fully embedded within the immediate cultural and political contexts of India and rendered fully intelligible in the particular cultural language of its audience. It thus formed what Aparna Dharwadker calls “both a version of the Western original(s) and a self-sufficient performance vehicle in its own right” (“John Gay” 8). The audience would have immediately recognised the gesture and been aware of the social evil of the dowry system, whereby money or gifts are offered to the groom by the bride or her relatives in exchange for the marriage. But rather than securing her a subject position and a higher status in the social hierarchy, the act of paying a dowry transforms a woman into a commodity, and thus an inferior human being. This apparent paradox at the heart of the dowry system can be explained thus: “[t]he idea of the bride being acquired … as a gift (along with her daaj [dowry]) … underscores the unambiguous construction of the woman as movable property in marriage. It is this reification of woman … as gift … that makes all bridetakers in some sense superior to all bridegivers” (Oldenburg 31). Furthermore, it is the presence of money in its transactional avatar that turns the sacred activity of marriage into a bourgeois undertaking. Although the Dowry Prohibition Act was passed in 1961 in India, it failed to contain the rampant growth of the dowry system. A newspaper article in an English daily in India in 1969 states that “[i]n India when parents plan the marriage of their ward, the question of dowry remains an indispensable factor in the settlement of such arranged marriages” (Rajah AVIII). Moreover, the theme of dowry remained a popular theme of discussion in Bollywood movies, which were known to Bennewitz, who mentioned in a letter to his partner Waltraut Mertes on 20 February 1970 that Bollywood movies are “very important for me because I will get to learn about Indian life…, for example, about religious morals, castes, etc.” (“Bertolt Brecht Dreigroschenoper” 1). Explaining the role of this scene, Brecht points out that “[i]t is important here to show how the bride, in all her carnality, is put on display just at the moment when she is definitively reserved for one purchaser. In other words, just as the supply is about to cut off, the demand must be pushed back up as high as it will go, one last time. The bride is coveted by everybody, but the bridegroom is ‘the lucky winner’” (“Notes on Threepenny” 75). With the Gestus of holding the bride, Bennewitz symbolised the triumph of the stylised gesture over the metaphysical meaning of marriage. This victory was significant because it allowed Bennewitz to highlight the bourgeois character of marriage. To further augment the commodification of human relations and a capitalist reading of marriage, Bennewitz staged the figure of the buyer in the scene with a lantern. Unlike the gesture of holding the bride in his hands, the “posture” (Gestus) of holding a lantern demonstrated a greater degree of

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ambiguity in its meaning. Brecht in the play never mentioned lanterns, and the most accessible adaptation of the play, G.B. Pabst’s film version (Pabst), used a candelabra to create the Victorian world of Soho. What then inspired Bennewitz to use a lantern over the candelabrum? I argue that this substitution typified the urge to articulate a view that went beyond the essence of the Western model of Brechtian theatre and was important in facilitating the re-enactment of Brecht in India on two accounts. First, it articulated the socio-economic conditions of the country since lanterns were widely in use in 1960s India, while the use of candelabras was uncommon. Second, the production deliberately refused to mythologise the grandeur of the original, and thus reshaped the discourse along the line of Foucauldian similarity, which combats the idea of origins and hierarchies.7 Irrespective of this change, the attack on bourgeois values continued with the help of the Gestus of posture. One thing that can be assumed from the bandit’s posture as he held the lantern was that he wanted to illuminate the bride, as if checking the genuineness of the “object.” In other words, the lantern’s light was used to calculate the worth of the bride, who was framed by Bennewitz as just an object on display. The posture allowed the lantern to become more than just a light source, as Bennewitz linked the use of the lantern to socio-political circumstances. Within the context of this pose, the lantern functioned more like the magnifying glass in Victorian literature, a popular trope in which miserly aristocrats used the device to calculate their coins. Thus, the bandit’s act of holding the lantern to test the worth of the bride de-individuated him and connected him to the social actions of the bourgeois class. Moreover, this heightened use of Gestus pointed towards the anti-naturalistic aspect of the performance and helped in the creation of a new variant of political theatre in India. The eschewal of metaphysical tendencies associated with marriage continued with the “visual gesture” of seeing, which foregrounded the idea of what Brecht calls “complex seeing,” which rather than subordinating everything to a single idea propels the audience to think beyond such limitation (“Notes on Threepenny” 72). In all the surviving photographs of the production, Macheath is found to be gazing at the audience rather than looking towards other characters on stage. I propose that the gaze of Macheath, an example of Gestus, imparted a new meaning to the Brechtian text in both breaking the fourth wall and in “the destitution of the old myths of ‘depth,’” to use Alain Robbe-Grillet’s phrase (23). Importantly, while Brecht never used the gaze as a Gestus in his production of the play, Bennewitz used it to question and activate the audience by bringing them back to “real” things rather than letting them burrow deeper in the metaphysical and transcendental world of marriage as related to old myths of depth. Therefore, the Gestus of gaze was structured to decimate the traditional role of the artist – one who unravels some fragment of a disconcerting secret after descending into “the abyss of human passions” (Robbe-Grillet 23) – and to remind the audience of the connection between their miseries and the ruling viewpoints.

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Bennewitz’s use of the direct gaze bestowed upon Macheath a chorus-like quality. This quality of not being involved deeply in the events on stage made him a heightened example of Brecht’s idea of a chorus, which he believed should “call on spectators to free themselves from the world represented on stage and from the representation itself ” (Brecht, “Notes on The Mother” 90). By offering an example of active consumer on stage, Macheath in Bennewitz’s performance came to form an instance of Brecht’s chorus. Although Brecht did not do something similar in his production, in his “Notes on the Mother” (1933) he advises that “to combat the process of ‘free’ association and to prevent the spectator becoming ‘immersed’ in the events on stage, small choruses can be positioned around the auditorium to demonstrate the correct attitude to the spectators and invite them to form opinions, call upon their own experience, and exercise control” (90). With this act of looking at the audience rather than looking at the newly acquired possession of his wife, Macheath created a powerful instance of Gestus, which clearly asked who is to be blamed for the condition of women in particular and of society in general. Strategically, Macheath did not answer this question himself, but rather looked at the audience. The denouement of the moment was Macheath’s gaze, which differed from those of the other actors in that it was directed towards the audience, stripping the marriage of all transcendental meanings and adjectives – a “holy” and “divine” union of two souls – by positioning it as just another form of bourgeois transaction. Therefore, the gaze took exception to “adjectival mania” (Smith 91) – a desire for the psychological framing of characters – that still remained a dominant mode in the Indian theatre of the 1960s. Therefore, this visual act of gazing “alienated” the audience by defying the widely circulated and most acknowledged image of marriage as an institution associated with piety. Interestingly, Bollywood played an important role in establishing this association of marriage with righteousness. The gaze underscored its non-prescriptive nature: it did not offer one way of looking at things but forced audiences to think for themselves. Brecht was known for offering this approach: [n]ow you may say: I [Brecht] use my art to represent conditions just as objectively and forcefully as they are in real life, and so I force the spectators themselves to decide between good and evil. You, Wolf, start by putting your finger on the sore point even on the stage; you transfer the decision to the stage, and this is too painful a method for the present day audience to hear. (Brecht, “Theatre Work” 266)8 Through his deep and emotionless gaze, Macheath extended the question to the audience as to who should be blamed. This empowered gaze worked to erase the fine distinction between the audience’s self and Macheath’s other. It became a trigger announcing the imminent crisis of civilisation should the audience fail to prevent this occurrence. Furthermore, this spectacular, questioning gaze enabled Bennewitz to generate a politically sensitive dramatic

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text, that is, “[i]t is a kind of report on the aspects of life that spectators wish to see on stage” (Brecht, “Notes on Threepenny” 71). Moreover, “alongside these aspects, spectators also see plenty of things they do not wish to see – they see their wishes not only fulfilled, therefore, but also criticised (they see themselves not as subjects but as objects), and this theoretically puts them in a position to confer a new function on the theatre” (Brecht, “Notes on Threepenny” 71). The gallows and prison scenes show that the gaze was again used as a primary Gestus to activate the audience and to show them that this world can be changed. In the gallows scene, spectators’ gaze was arrested by a carefully edited tableau as they witnessed characters strategically positioned to construct a pyramid-like structure, a clear reference to the pyramid structure of the capitalist system. At the base of this pyramid structure, downstage, was a line-up of prostitutes. The left and right corners of the stage were occupied by police in uniforms and bandits. At the apex of this structure, upstage, stood the towering figure of Macheath, facing the audience with the noose around his neck. This tableau was remarkably different from the play, because the prostitutes of Soho, not the beggars were present at the gallows to see Macheath’s execution, unlike in the original. The presence of prostitutes completed the last missing piece required to produce a complete picture of the bourgeois world. In this context, prostitutes demonstrated how they remained both dependent on and an inevitable result of the bourgeois system. The tableau produced a microcosm of the bourgeois world, and the Gestus of gaze was the strategy used for this construction. At the top of this structure was Macheath, “a bourgeois phenomenon” (Brecht, “Notes on Threepenny” 73). His elevated social status was underlined through his physical position on a staircase. Subservient to him were the cops and bandits, who stood physically beneath him at opposite corners of the stage. By blocking these characters at opposing ends, Bennewitz conveyed their antithetical nature, and also how despite this binary contradiction they remained subservient to bourgeois figures like Macheath. Bennewitz blocked the prostitutes further down on the stage towards the audience, which indicated that their position was even more inferior than the bandits and police. The conditions of repression were emphasised in their act of looking left rather than in front of them. Despite their position on the stage, which was directly in front of the audience, they appeared as if incapable of directing a gaze anywhere themselves – existing only to bear the gaze as commodities. The large crest behind Macheath’s back remained the insignia of this bourgeois system. All the actors in this gallows scene, except Macheath, pointed to an invisible object on the right of the stage using their left hands. In this act of pointing, their gaze also turned away from the audience towards this invisible object. One can argue that the gesture was staged by the director to pose the question: Who is responsible? Rather than answering the question, the actors through the gesture of pointing to something on the left, sought a scapegoat. The climax of the scene was Macheath’s gaze, which differed from

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those of the other actors in that it was directed towards the audience. This was in contrast to the original production, where the gaze of Macheath was also directed away from the spectator. Through his deep and emotionless gaze, Macheath extended the question to the audience as to who is responsible.9 When the disparate stage pieces are seen together as a whole, the tableau clearly presented a structure of the bourgeois world, which was clearly exploitative and perfidious. It is also clear from this investigation that Bennewitz, with this use of Gestus, rejected the linear structure of realistic theatre, which was used by Indian theatre practitioners. With the help of the Gestus of gaze, Bennewitz could embed both a materialist critique within the theatrical medium and activate the audience. The same Gestus of gaze was used in the prison scene, but this time it was employed to punctuate the Haltung in Polly’s character, the wife of Macheath: to highlight the change in the mental attitude of Polly, Bennewitz equipped Macheath again with the Gestus of gaze. In the discipline of Brechtian scholarship, Haltung presents the mental state through the body. For Barnett, it “combines what is usually a mental state in English (attitude) with physical expression (bearing)” (Brecht in Practice 97–98). Brecht encouraged the actors to employ Haltungen to present the change in their situation. In one of the surviving photographs of the scene, we encounter Macheath in the background inside a cage with his gaze again at the audience and Polly and Lucy in the foreground with their backs to the audience, but just brief ly revelatory enough in their gestures that we can see that they are arguing. Unlike the film version of the play, which eliminated her character, Bennewitz’s version retained the character of Lucy, the daughter of Tiger Brown. The scene in the production presented the argument between Lucy, one of Macheath’s many lovers, and Polly, Macheath’s wife. Bennewitz presented Polly as a character who was as chained or caged as Macheath (even the photograph of the prison scene gives this impression as it is unclear whether it is Macheath or Polly who is caged). Unlike Macheath, who was in a bourgeois prison, Polly found herself caged by bourgeois social structures that determined her social position. Polly’s act of arguing in the scene depicted the transformation of the character from a naïve and simple girl to an “impudent” woman (Duve 2). Polly and Lucy’s argument was relevant to the area of Brechtian aesthetics because Polly’s character highlighted the Brechtian principle of Haltung. The way in which Polly’s body worked to convey her mental state would have made the scene interesting, which is probably the reason one reviewer stated that “the characters of Lucy and Polly were woven with lots of intelligence” ( Jain, “Dilli” 51). In the short span of her engagement with Macheath’s illegal business, Polly became extremely shrewd and cunning. Baokar, who played the role of Polly in the performance, highlights this quality of the character when she notes that she found the role interesting because of “Polly’s background, her cunning, and of course, the music and songs” (206). By presenting this ruthlessness, Bennewitz reminded us that “Polly is not only Macheath’s lover

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but also Peachum’s daughter; and she is never only his daughter but also his employee” (“Notes on Threepenny” 75). Moreover, Bennewitz’s version presented this transformation of her character not as an inner metamorphosis but as the consequence of social conditions, along the lines of Brecht’s explanation that “[i]t is absolutely desirable that the spectator should perceive Miss Polly Peachum as a virtuous and likeable girl. Having proved her entirely un-calculating love in the second scene, she now demonstrates the practical disposition without which that love would amount to no more than ordinary recklessness” (“Notes on Threepenny” 76). It is clear from all these instances of the Gestus of gaze that it remained a Grundgestus (primary Gestus) in the production to embed a materialist critique within the theatrical medium. The Indian variant of Gestic realism differed from its European counterpart on account of Bennewitz’s use of Gestic realism to underline poverty and patriarchy in India. This varied use of Brechtian aesthetics turned the Indian variant into an alternative discourse rather than a mere imitation of the European counterpart and reinforced its pharmakonic character. Gestic music is another Brechtian device that establishes a nexus between music, body, history and society. Bennewitz highlighted this aspect of the performance when he stated that the performance’s approach to action was “revealed especially in the songs” (“Teaching and Learning” 13). Brecht’s concept of Gestic music, according to Eisler, is as old as 1924. Eisler’s discussions with Brecht made him understand the meaning of Gestus and incorporate it into his music: “What Brecht means by this is simply that the music also brings into being the attitude of the singers and the audience” (49–50). Instead of Kurt Weill’s score, which was used in Brecht’s production to construct Gestic music, Bennewitz employed the musical composition of Vanraj Bhatia, an Indian composer who worked earlier with Weber in his 1968 production of the Caucasian Chalk Circle. Although Bhatia’s songs resembled Bollywood musical compositions as stated by a reviewer that “in some songs there was an echo of film score, not in the form of a commentary but as a shadow [inspiration]” ( Jain, “Dilli” 56), they differed from Bollywood on one count – their connection with the body of the actor. Discussing this network between the songs of the production and the body of the actors, Baokar, the actor who played the role of Polly, reveals that Bennewitz “brought out the required ‘Brechtian Experience’ of entertainment and social comment beautifully” by “combining songs with rhythmic body movements” (cited in Esleben, Rohmer and John 30). Besides connecting songs with stylised body movements, Bennewitz used Bhatia’s musical composition, which derived its “inspiration from Konkani and Goan folk songs as well as Indian language liturgical chants” (Mohan 11), to politicise the performance. Bhatia’s multilingual musical composition pointed to the language wars of the period, as Southern India’s Dravidian language communities fought against the imposition of Hindi as the country’s national language in the 1960s. The diversity of languages, known to audiences, must have created a “socially critical

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stance” that resisted the nation’s discourse of promoting a national language to reengineer the diverse linguistic space of India. Discussing his idea of a “socially critical stance” in the context of the performance of The Threepenny Opera, Brecht told Strehler that “[t]he main prop here was the music, which kept on destroying the illusion; the latter, however, had first to be created since an atmosphere could never be destroyed until it had been built up” (cited in Bunge 93). The socially critical stance created through the music in Bennewitz’s performance challenged the monolingualism that “established the idea that having one language was the natural norm, and that multiple languages constituted a threat to the cohesion of individuals and societies” (Yildiz 6). Through this resistance, the performance contributed to the idea that multiple languages can co-exist. The multilingual aspect of the music presented the heterogeneity of the country. By invoking regional musical forms, Bhatia brought forth the innate interconnectedness among them and thus promoted the principle of interculturalism, and that could be the reason why one of the reviewers called the performance an example of “transcreation” (Mohan 11). It contributed to a reassertion of multiplicity against the state’s discourse of homogeneity. Bhatia’s choice of music further embedded his text within the larger politics of the National School of Drama (NSD) and Brechtian theatre. The 1960s was the time when “[t]he NSD curriculum began to include the study of folk and classical performance traditions” (“NSD: Assimilating the Past” 96). Bhatia’s use of music followed the same course as envisioned by the NSD. Like the NSD, Bhatia engaged with both folk and classical systems to create his musical score. This revival of Indian classical and folk music also pointed towards Weill’s vision behind his musical score of The Threepenny Opera. As Weill notes that The Threepenny Opera marked a new beginning “because it returned to more primitive operatic forms that assigned new and independent roles to music, addressed a contemporary audience, and placed a concept of opera as a subject on a stage” (cited in Stegmann 253). If The Threepenny Opera was a reaction against Wagner then Bhatia’s hybrid music was a reaction against the naturalistic theatre that subverted the musical drama of India. In other words, the introduction of Gestic realism by Bennewitz helped in questioning the Western tradition of naturalism, which came to India through colonisation, and in bringing the new theatre closer to the poetic realism of traditional Indian theatre. In its articulation of the discourse of urban India, this chapter has challenged any attempt to bestow an essential and unvarying character to Brechtian theatre. The constant mixing of Brechtian aesthetics and indigenous performance practices to form the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre points to the f luid rather than static character of Brechtian theatre. Brechtian theatre “is not a line of words releasing a single ‘theological’ meaning (the ‘message’ of the Author-God) but a multi-dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and clash” (Barthes, Image 146). In other words, Bennewitz’s variant of Brechtian theatre was not only the result of the

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inf luence of Brechtian theatre in India but also a multi-dimensional space highlighting a play of multiple socio-political texts. The site of Brechtian inf luence is a space celebrating multiple non-hierarchical voices rather than an articulation of one dominant discourse: Brechtian theatre in India is not only a recognition of Brechtian realism but also of Indian performance practices that made the reception of this realism possible. Importantly, the analysis of this production has equipped us with two instances of Gestus – both as a bodily and musical gesture – by which Brecht was localised and politicised in India. The deployment of Brechtian aesthetics in general and Gestus in particular in India was significant because it helped in the introduction of a new theatrical idiom, which in turn formed a non-mimetic strand of political theatre in India. Brechtian theatre in India is not a site of derivation and passive inf luence but an active site of innovation. It is this site that encouraged the idea of intercultural theatre. Gestus in India was distinctively used to articulate problems of the new nation, such as poverty and patriarchy, highlighting the tension between the European variant and the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre. This alternative use of Brechtian aesthetics in India asserted the individual identity of Brechtian theatre and presented it as a stylistically alternative model that subverted the all-encompassing narrative of mainstream Brechtian theatre. Additionally, this diverse use of Brechtian theatre in India demonstrated how it is a counter-narrative rather than a submission to a European master narrative. The presence of this alternative variant of Brechtian theatre in India has turned the site of inf luence into a space illustrating the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre which challenges the Manicheism of historicist thinking  – the belief that the European variant is original and the Indian variant is a pirated copy because it comes later. This character defies existing power relations between Brechtian theatre in mainstream centres such as Europe and periphery such as India. With the emergence of this alternative model, inf luence has become a site questioning the essential make-up of Brechtian theatre. Furthermore, this engagement with the Gestus has demonstrated that Brechtian theatre is dependent on geo-political circumstances, and thus the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre will continue to be different from the European variant. The clichéd definition of Brechtian theatre can be challenged by reading it as a Foucauldian act of “charged” similarity rather than “dispiriting” resemblance.

Notes 1 It should be mentioned that these two traditions of political theatre in India often borrowed from traditional Indian drama which was gestural but never gestic – that is, there was no relation between the body and social context, as in Brecht’s use of Gestus. 2 The term “poetic realism” encodes the primary ideal of traditional Indian theatre, according to which, Indian theatre is “a poetic art, concerned to interpret life and not to copy life” (Anand, “Indian Theatre in the Context” 282).

106  Politicising Brecht 3 Although I am aware of Erika Fischer-Lichte’s concept of “interweaving performance cultures,” I continue to use the term intercultural theatre in Bennewitz’s context, and a statement is needed on my choice. By “interweaving performance cultures,” Fischer-Lichte refers to many performance strands that are “plied into a thread,” which is then used to form “particular patterns without allowing the viewer to trace each strand back to its origin” (38). Intercultural performance “emerged principally from the practice of Western artists, in particular the practice of performing well beyond the borders of their own countries” (Holledge and Tompkins 2). However, the practice that emerged in bringing two cultures together also risked parasitically feeding on cultural differences without acknowledging them. By addressing the politics of intercultural theatre, which ranges from an advancement to an encroachment upon other cultures, I hint at the ways the term intercultural theatre has been employed by theatre directors. Surprisingly, the term “interweaving performance cultures” erases and denies these past examples of encroachment and simply extols the practice of interweaving cultures as a utopian exercise in bringing together cross-cultural networks, which obviously it is not. Since the term masks the Eurocentric politics of stereotyping cultures, I have decided not to use it. 5 The term “Socialist realism” was coined in 1932 though it came into currency only after the 1934 All-Union Congress of Soviet Writers. The doctrine of Socialist realism remained associated with the task of educating working classes in the spirit of socialism. It gained enormous momentum under the aegis of the Secretary of the Communist Party of the USSR, Andrei Zhdanov (Bowlt 290–297). 6 During the 1930s, the political critic Georg Lukács and Brecht came up with their independent and contrasting views on formalism. Although both of them sought literary traditions that could be used to fight against the fascist onslaught of the world or “the dehumanization produced by capitalism” (Brecht “Against Georg Lukács” 69), their definition of formalism differed. For Lukács, a work is formalistic when it elevates literary form over social content while for Brecht, a work of art is formalistic when it falsifies reality. Lukács promoted nineteenthcentury realist writers such as Balzac and Tolstoy, while Brecht considered them to “produce a rich life of the spirit, hold back the pace of events by a slow narrative, bring the individual back to the centre of the stage” (69), and thus encouraged the strategy of developing modern techniques to present reality. 7 I have provided a detailed discussion of Foucault’s idea of similarity in the Introduction. 8 Friedrich Wolf was a famous communist playwright who was critical of Brecht’s dramaturgical approach. In his essay, written in a form of a dialogue, Brecht tried to explain his theatrical approach to Wolf. 9 The photos of Brecht’s production are located in the Brecht Archive, Berlin.

Bibliography Adorno, Theodor. “Reconciliation under Duress.” Aesthetics and Politics. Ed. Ronald Taylor. London: Verso, 1977. 151–176. Print. Alkazi, Ebrahim. “Berichte.” Brecht-Dialog 1968: Politik auf dem Theater. Berlin: Henschelverlag, 1968: 246–248. Print. Anand, Mulk Raj. The Indian Theatre. London: Dennis Dobson, 1950. ———.“Indian Theatre in the Context of the World Theatre.” Indian Drama in Retrospect. New Delhi: Sangeet Natak Akademi, 2007. 281–303. Print.

Politicising Brecht  107 Baokar, Uttara. “Uttara Baokar: A Spirit of Endurance: In Conversation with Amal Allana.” The Act of Becoming: Actors Talk. Ed. Amal Allana. New Delhi: NSD and Niyogi, 2013. 204–215. Print. Barnett, David. “‘I Have to Change Myself Instead of Interpreting Myself.’ Heiner Müller as Post-Brechtian Director.” Contemporary Theatre Review 20.1 (2010): 6–20. Print. ———. “Toward a Definition of Post-Brechtian Performance: The Example of In the Jungle of the Cities at the Berliner Ensemble, 1971.” Modern Drama 54.3 (2011): 333–356. Print. ———. Brecht in Practice: Theatre, Theory and Performance. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. A History of the Berliner Ensemble. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 2015. Print. Barthes, Roland. “Seven Photo Models of Mother Courage.” Tulane Drama Review 12.1 (1967): 44–55. Print. ———. Image, Music, Text. London: Fontana, 1977. Print. ———. S/Z. Oxford: Blackwell, 1990. Print. Bennewitz, Fritz. “Theatre for the Masses: Interview with Fritz Bennewitz.” By Geeta Lal. Hindustan Times (27 Mar. 1983): 6. Print. ———. “Teaching and Learning – Prof. Fritz Bennewitz Interviewed 1972.” GDR-India Cultural Relations: Exchange and Mutual Enrichment in the Fields of Literature, Art History and Performing Arts. By Karin Karlsson. Ed. Roland Beer. Berlin: Ministry of Culture-GDR, 1984. 12–15. Print. ———. “Interview Sunday.” 6 Nov. 1988. AO-G 07: Texte von Fritz Bennewitz. Fritz Bennewitz Archives, Leipzig, Germany. 15 Apr. 2016. ———. “Bertolt Brecht Dreigroschenoper.” 17 Feb. 1970 to 16 Apr. 1970. AO-G 05: Briefe von Auslandreisen. Fritz Bennewitz Archives, Leipzig, Germany. 15 Apr. 2016. 1–38. ———. “Some Notes on Experiences and Methods of Intercultural Cooperation on Stage with my Indian Counterparts.” Fritz Bennewitz Archives, Leipzig, Germany. 15 Apr. 2016. 1–2. Bentley, Eric. “Note on the Locale.” Parables for the Theatre: Two Plays by Bertolt Brecht – The Good Woman of Setzuan and The Caucasian Chalk Circle. London: Penguin, 1965. 112. Print. ———. Bentley on Brecht. Evanston: Northwestern U P, 2008. Print. Bhabha, Homi K. “DissemiNation: Time, Narrative, and the Margins of the Modern Nation.” Nation and Narration. Ed. Homi K. Bhabha. New York: Routledge, 1990. 291–322. Print. ———. “Narrating the Nation.” Nationalism. Eds. John Hutchinson and Anthony D. Smith. Oxford: Oxford U P, 1994. 306–312. Print. ———. The Location of Culture. New York: Routledge, 2004. Print. Bhatia, Nandi. “Staging a Change: Modern Indian Drama and the Colonial Encounter.” Diss. University of Texas at Austin 1996. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Aug. 2014. ———. Acts of Authority, Acts of Resistance: Theater and Politics in Colonial and Postcolonial India. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2004. Print. ———. ed. Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. Print. ———. “Modern Indian Theatre: An Introduction.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. XI–XXXIX. Print. ———. Performing Women/Performing Womenhood: Theatre, Politics, and Dissent in North India. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2010. Print.

108  Politicising Brecht Bowlt, John E., ed. Russian Art of the Avant-Garde Theory and Criticism 1902–1934. New York: Viking Press, 1976. Print. Bradley, Laura. Brecht and Political Theatre: The Mother on Stage. Great Britain: Oxford U P, 2006. Print. Brecht, Bertolt. Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Trans. John Willett. Ed. John Willett. 2nd ed. London: Methuen, 1974. Print. ———. “Against Georg Lukács.” Aesthetics and Politics. London: Verso, 1977. 68–85. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht’s Me-ti: Book of Interventions in the Flow of Things. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Print. ———. Diaries 1920–1922. Trans. John Willett. London: Eyre Methuen, 1979. Print. ———. Journals 1934–1955. Trans. Hugh Rorrison. Ed. John Willett. London: Methuen, 1993. Print. ———. Mother Courage and Her Children. Trans. John Willett. Ed. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1994. Print. ———. The Caucasian Chalk Circle. Trans. Eric Bentley. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1999, Print. ———. Brecht on Art and Politics. Eds. Tom Kuhn and Steve Giles. London: Bloomsbury, 2003. Print. ———. The Threepenny Opera. Trans. Ralph Manheim and John Willett. London: Bloomsbury, 2005. Print. ———. Poetry and Prose. Eds. Reinhold Grimm and Caroline Molina Y. Vedia. London: Continuum, 2006. Print. ———. Brecht on Performance. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. “Notes on the Threepenny Opera.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 71–80. Print. ———. “Notes on the Mother (1933).” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 86–96. Print. ———. “Theatre for Pleasure or Theatre for Instruction.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 109–117. Print. ———. “On Experimental Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 133–146. Print. ———. “Verfremdung Effects in Chinese Acting.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 151–159. Print. ———. “On Gestic Music.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 167–169. Print. ———. “The Street Scene.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 176–183. Print. ———. “Realism and the Proletariat.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 200–206. Print. ———. “Short Organon.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 229–255. Print. ———. “Theatre Work.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 263–267. Print. ———. “Dialectical Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 283–285. Print.

Politicising Brecht  109 ———. “A Detour: The Caucasian Chalk Circle.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 298–299. Print. ———. Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. The Good Person of Szechwan. Collected Plays: Six. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 1994. 1–111. Print. ———. The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. Trans. Ralph Manheim. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 113–214. Print. Bunge, Hans-Joachim. “Conversation between Brecht and Strehler.” The Threepenny Opera. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. 91–96. Print. Derrida, Jacques. Dissemination. Trans. Barbara Johnson. London: Athlone Press, 1981. Print. Dharwadker, Aparna. “John Gay, Bertolt Brecht, and Postcolonial Antinationalisms.” Modern Drama 38.1 (1995): 4–21. Print. ———. Theatres of Independence: Drama, Theory, and Urban Performance in India since 1947. Iowa City: U of Iowa P, 2005. Print. Duve, Freimut. “Teen Take Ka Swang: Die Dreigroschenoper in Neu-Delhi.” Zeit Online (15 May 1970): 1–2. Web. 15 Apr. 2016. Eisler, Hanns. Brecht, Music and Culture: Hanns Eisler in Conversation with Hans Bunge. Trans. Sabine Berendse and Paul Clements. Eds. Sabine Berendse and Paul Clements. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. Esleben, Joerg. “From Didactic to Dialectic Intercultural Theater: Fritz Bennewitz and the 1973 Production of the Caucasian Chalk Circle in Mumbai.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 36. 2011. 303–312. Print. Esleben, Joerg, Rohmer Rolf, and David G. John. Fritz Bennewitz in India: Intercultural Theatre with Brecht and Shakespeare. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2016. Print. Fischer-Lichte, Erika. “Introduction: Interweaving Performance Cultures – Rethinking ‘Intercultural Theatre’: Toward an Experience and Theory of Performance Beyond Postcolonialism.” The Politics of Interweaving Performance Cultures Beyond Postcolonialism. Eds. Erika Fischer-Lichte, Torsten Jost, and Saskya Iris Jain. Hoboken: Taylor & Francis, 2014. 19–60. Print. Foucault, Michel. This is Not a Pipe. Trans. James Harkness. Ed. James Harkness. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Print. ———. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. Alan M. Sheridan-Smith. London: Routledge, 1989. Gargi, Balwant. “The Caucasian Chalk Circle: From Three Angles.” The Times of India (29 June 1969): V. Print. ———. “Meeting Brecht in Person.” A Tribute to Brecht. Ed. Nissar Allana. New Delhi: Theatre and Television Associates, 1993. 25–26. Print. Hashmi, Qamar Azad. The Fifth Flame: The Story of Safdar Hashmi. Trans. Madhu Prasad and Sohail Hashmi. Delhi: Viking, 1997. Print. Hashmi, Safdar. “The Right to Perform.” Radical Street Performance: An International Anthology. Ed. Jan Cohen-Cruz. London: Routledge, 1998. 31–37. Print. ———. “The People Gave Us So Much Energy.” Theatre of the Streets: The Jana Natya Manch Experience. Ed. Sudhanva Deshpande. Interviewed by Eugene van Erven. Delhi: Janam, 2007: 17–58. Print. ———. “The First Ten Years of Street Theatre.” Theatre of the Streets: The Jana Natya Manch Experience. Ed. Sudhanva Deshpande. Delhi: Janam, 2013. 11–17. Print.

110  Politicising Brecht Holledge, Julie, and Joanne Tompkins. Women’s Intercultural Performance. London: Routledge, 2000. Print. Jain, Kirti. “Natya Samaroh: Nehru Shatabdi Natya Samaroh.” Natarang 14.53 (1990): 65–70. Print. ———. “Theatre Training: Some Issues.” Rasa: The Indian Performing Arts in the Last Twenty-Five Years. Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Vol. II. Eds. Ananda Lal and Chidananda Dasgupta. Calcutta: Anamika Kala Sangam, 1995: 63–70. Print. ———. “Theatre Education.” The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Ed. Ananda Lal. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2004: 488–490. Print. Jain, Nemichandra. “Dilli Ka Rangmanch.” Natarang 4.14 (1970): 49–56. Print. ———. “Nautanki.” The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre. Ed. Ananda Lal. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2004: 312–313. Print. Kowalke, Kim H. “The Threepenny Opera in America.” Kurt Weill: The Threepenny Opera. Ed. Stephen Hinton. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 1990. 78–119. Print. Mohan, Jag. “A Dwelling Place of Wonder.” The Times of India (7 June 1970): 11. Print. Mohan, Manoj. “Badlti Parishtthhi Ke Bhich Nukkad Natak.” Natarang 21.83 (2009): 83–84. Print. Oldenburg, Veena Talwar. Dowry Murder: The Imperial Origins of a Cultural Crime. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002. Print. Pabst, Georg Wilhelm, director. Die 3 Groschenoper. Tobis Filmkunst, Nero-Film AG, Warner Bros, 1931. Plato. The Symposium and the Phaedo. Trans. Raymond Larson. Ed. Raymond Larson. Wheeling: Harlan Davidson, 1980. Print. Prateek. “East Meets East: Recycling Brecht in India.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch. Vol. 42. 2018: 137–151. Print. Rajah, Cyril. “The Dowry plus in Marriage” The Times of India (5 Jan. 1969): AVIII. Print. Richmond, Farley. “The Political Role of Theatre in India.” Educational Theatre Journal 25.3 (1973): 318–334. Print. Richmond, Farley P., Darius L. Swann, and Phillip B. Zarrilli. Indian Theatre: Traditions of Performance. Honolulu: U of Hawaii P, 1990. Print. Robbe-Grillet, Alain. For a New Novel: Essays on Fiction. Trans. Richard Howard. Evanston: Northwestern U P, 1989. Print. Rohmer, Rolf. “Approaching Interculturalism with Brecht: Fritz Bennewitz’s Theater Work in Asia.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch 36 (2012): 290–300. Print. Smith, Jonathan Z. “The Bare Facts of Ritual.” History of Religions 20.1/2 (1980): 112–127. Print. Smith, Zadie. “Two Paths for the Novel.” The New York Review of Books 55.18 (2008): 89–94. Print. Stegmann, Vera. “Brecht Contra Wagner: The Evolution of the Epic Music Theatre.” A Bertolt Brecht Reference Companion. Ed. Siegfried Mews. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1997. 238–260. Print. Yildiz, Yasemin. Beyond the Mother Tongue: The Postmonolingual Condition. Cambridge: Fordham U P, 2013. Print.

4

Regionalising Brecht in India

In the previous chapters, I demonstrated how Brechtian aesthetics were used in unique ways, different from its previous uses in Europe, in India. Specifically, in the last chapter through an analysis of Teen Take Ka Swang (1970), I showed that Fritz Bennewitz’s use of Gestic realism to critique the patriarchy and poverty of the Indian society created a new variant of political theatre in India, which differed from both the existing political theatre in India and Brechtian theatre in Europe. These distinctive uses of Brechtian aesthetics in India transformed the site of inf luence into a site of interrogation, a space questioning the absolute values of Brechtian theatre. By questioning the schema of the undiluted Brechtian models, inf luence emphasises the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre in India. This chapter takes this discussion further by showing how Habib Tanvir appropriated not only the European model of Brechtian theatre but also the urban Indian variant by creating a regional version of Brechtian theatre. The regional variant of Brechtian theatre presents an important narrative of difference that remains separated from the discourse of mainstream or urban variant that I discussed in the first three chapters. With my analysis of Tanvir’s Shajapur ki Shantibai (The Good Person of Szechwan, 1978), I argue that in Tanvir’s hands, inf luence was first used to express the peripheral theatre traditions of the nation. Second, it ensured the articulation of the periphery’s political narrative. By communicating regional performance practices and local political events through Brechtian aesthetics, Tanvir’s production further illustrated the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre in India. At the outset, I should emphasise that the creation of this regional variant of Brechtian theatre was a part of Tanvir’s larger project to regionalise urban theatre, beginning with his first production, Agra Bazaar (1954), which was discussed in Chapter 2. With the production of The Good Person of Szechwan, Tanvir extended his project of regionalising Indian urban theatre to Brechtian theatre, which was limited to urban performance practices and political expressions. The significance of this production merits a chapter of its own. This chapter also explores the regional variant of Brechtian theatre in India and its interrelationship with the postcolonial subject. In other words, I demonstrate how the regional variant of Brechtian theatre in India articulates the postcolonial condition of a subject

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located in the periphery – in opposition to the urban variant that voices the condition of the urban subject. Since the postcolonial condition of the subject changes depending on its geopolitical location, both globally and locally, I show how Brechtian theatre in India continues to defer and differ as we move from urban to regional India. Put differently, the discourse of inf luence questions not only the hegemony of Brechtian theatre in Europe but also of the Indian urban variant. The presence of multiple variants of Brechtian that diverge rather than converge demonstrates the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre through its ambivalence towards one meaning principle or its resistance to absolute definitions and meanings. This resistance highlights hybridity and challenges any attempt to place one variant of Brechtian theatre higher than the other strain. Significantly, it resists the othering of any variants of Brechtian theatre. Despite Tanvir’s interest in constructing regional variants, this production differed from his previous attempts both in its poetics and politics. Previously, regional poetics were used to bring together the centre and periphery because the regional was seen as a part of India’s diversity. In this production, Tanvir used the regional to explore the dynamics of power between the centre and the periphery. The regional here did not seek the narrative of synthesis but highlighted the exploitative process of negotiation between the coercive centres of power and the subordinated periphery. I regard the periphery in Tanvir’s production as a reference to geographical locations that have been coerced into the centre/nation-state’s system in general and the geographical location of Chhattisgarh, where Tanvir’s actors reside, in particular.1 The question that ran across the Indian production was why, despite India’s independence, could the peripheral centres and the people located in these centres not prosper? The production wanted the audience to analyse the reasons behind the disadvantaged state of the periphery by re-examining the role played by the politicians, located at the centre. In its attempt to articulate the power dynamics between the centre and the periphery, the Indian production diverged from Brecht’s production in two important ways: the depiction of the gods and Shui Ta’s corruption. First, in Tanvir’s production, the gods’ powerlessness symbolised the people’s powerlessness in the periphery. Showing the people’s powerlessness through the gods allowed Tanvir to destabilise the moral core of the parable play – that is, there was no poetic justice because gods themselves were not omnipotent. By usurping the power of the gods, Tanvir activated the audience and asked them to find a solution on their own mortal level rather than on a divine level. By articulating the discourse of the people’s subservience through the gods, Tanvir also underlined the magnitude of the loss. There is no doubt that the gods were powerless in Brecht but their powerlessness was the consequence of their location in the bourgeois world while in Tanvir their powerlessness was the outcome of their location in the periphery as Tanvir portrayed them in regional regalia. To demonstrate how the powerlessness of the gods was articulated in Tanvir’s production, in the first part

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of the chapter, I examine two instances. First, I discuss the portrayal of the gods and second, Tanvir’s use of the theatrical idiom of the Gestus of darshan (reciprocal seeing) between the “highest” gods2 (Brecht, The Good Person 3) and Wang3 in the “Prologue.”4 The portrayal of the gods and the use of the Gestus not only articulated the unheard voice of the regional poetics of India but also its politics – that is, it highlighted the absent agency of the peripheral voices in postcolonial India. Following this articulation of the peripheral voices through the gods, in the second part of the chapter, I examine Tanvir’s representation of the centre through Shui Ta. Tanvir critiqued the power of the nation-state by portraying Shui Ta as a corrupt politician through vestimentary practices and blocking in the bribery scene.5 Unlike Brecht, where Shui Ta, dressed as a capitalist businessman, was a symbol of evil, in Tanvir’s production, he was dressed as a politician, becoming a metaphor both of corruption and the coercive power of the Indian nation-state. This dialectical opposition between the oppressive power of the nation-state, portrayed through Shui Ta, and powerlessness of the people, represented through the three gods, would have been highly relevant at the time. Indira Gandhi declared a state of emergency across India from 1975 to 1977,6 which has often been discussed as a crucial turning point in the rise of the dictator and the fall of people’s rights. Unlike Tanvir’s production, Brecht’s was not a study of the nation-state and the dynamics of its power, but an attempt to investigate the capitalistic world and its corrupting power to change people from good to evil. In other words, Brecht investigated the effect of power on people while Tanvir explored the mechanics of power, that is, how power is conceived and transmitted. Thus, in the Indian production, both the gods and Shui Ta were the sites demonstrating the inner manoeuvrings of power as Tanvir showed how the nation-state divested the gods/peripheral voices of their power and invested this power in a corrupt politician, Shui Ta, the doppelgänger of Shen Teh.7 By critiquing the repressive power of the nation-state in his production, Tanvir constructed his people’s theatre in postcolonial India. By using Brechtian aesthetics to highlight the problems faced by the periphery, Tanvir altered the understanding of Brechtian theatre in India. These diverse uses of Brechtian aesthetics, furthermore, underline two aspects of Brechtian theatre in India: first, although Tanvir derived from Brecht, he did not duplicate Brecht; second, Tanvir’s variant was different from its European counterpart since it was in dialogue with the cultural and political registers of India. Thus, Tanvir’s production demonstrated how the site of inf luence subverts and rethinks the absolute and essential meanings and definitions of Brechtian theatre. This project of constructing modern Indian theatre using regional poetics and politics began with the founding of Tanvir’s theatre company, the Naya Theatre,8 which hired folk actors, used a regional dialect of Hindi, and experimented with indigenous art forms of Chhattisgarh9 in 1959 in Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh.10 The founding of the company was sparked by Tanvir’s

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interest in Brecht and regional performance practices that began during his theatre training at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. After finishing this training in 1956, Tanvir went to Germany to meet Brecht but as noted in Chapter 2, he arrived in Berlin just after Brecht died. Although he did not meet Brecht, he could still understand the significance of indigenous practices in creating modern theatre. Against this backdrop, I propose that Tanvir, an Indian writer, actor, poet, regionalised Brechtian theatre, and became one of the first directors in India who could assimilate Brechtian aesthetics into the poetics and politics of Indian theatre. This act of regionalising Brecht allowed Tanvir to offer a regional character to modern Indian theatre, which was since its beginning an urban phenomenon.11 Tanvir’s departure from mainstream theatre is also indicative of the global turn towards regionalism in the 1960s and 1970s, when regional theatre came to be valued in other parts of the world such as Canada, UK and the US, all at roughly the same time.12 It is surprising that until now there has been no sustained account of regionalisation of Brechtian theatre in India. Although the term “regional” carries a wide array of meanings, I seek only to redraw attention to the discipline of postcolonial studies and its resistance to all-encompassing definitions. In postcolonial societies, regional theatre has played an important role in expanding the purview of postcolonial theory by providing a snapshot of the peripheral world where the postcolonial condition of the subject is different from the world represented by urban theatre. This means that by highlighting a postcolonial condition unique to the periphery, regional theatre draws our attention to the multiple variations of postcolonial condition within a country, and thus it challenges any attempt to offer a fixed essence to the postcolonial condition. Unfortunately, the project of postcolonial studies has lost its drive and two of the primary reasons behind this loss of impetus are a historicist reading of the term and an excessive f lattening out of the term. Referring to the reduced impact of postcolonial studies, Ella Shohat and Robert Stam argue that the term is problematic because it thinks of time in a linear way, as if past insidious colonial practices have been overcome, whereas in actual fact they have been replaced by other more intricate ones (2). Ania Loomba draws attention to the second problem: “[a] too quick enlargement of the term postcolonial can indeed paradoxically f latten both past and contemporary situations. All ‘subordinating’ discourses and practices are not the same either over time or across the globe” (34). These questions of “linearity” and “f lattening” of the larger discourse of postcolonial studies are integral to my book in general and this chapter in particular. Specifically, I analyse here how the postcolonial moment in Indian history can’t be read in the “linear” fashion as the end of the colonial state and the problems associated with it. The Indian nation-state inherited these problems and continued to struggle with them. An analysis of regional theatre can allow us to re-activate the project of postcolonial studies. By analysing Brechtian theatre at a different locus in the Hindi belt – provincial in opposition to the urban milieu – I also resist the f lattening of the discourse of postcolonial studies.

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First, I analyse regionalisation as a conscious process of the transformation of a Eurocentric form to Indian theatrical idioms and style. I see it as a witting act of renunciation of Western theatrical idioms and expressions to espouse Indian counterparts, an eschewal of urban theatrical idioms that were supposedly inspired by Western theatrical forms. As Tanvir recounts, “[t]he urban theatre of India only partially ref lects the fundamental features of Indian culture. By and large it remains imitative. It tries to ape the conventions of the Western theatre” (“Theatre” 32). In this sense, urban and Western were synonymous in India of the 1970s. Set against this background, “regionalisation” was an act of decolonising Indian theatre from Western as well as urban theatre expressions. This aspect of regionalisation was important because before Tanvir’s attempt with folk actors and their vernacular dialects and acting styles, Brecht was primarily adapted on an urban Indian stage, which continued to court Western theatrical practices. Not surprisingly, in postcolonial India of the 1950s and 1960s, the urban stage could not immediately free itself from its colonial legacy and remained a colonised space that persisted in experiments with Western theatrical practices. Thus, Brechtian theatre in India before Tanvir’s 1978 production remained essentially an urban as well as Western experience, (as shown in Chapter 3) that failed to recognise and incorporate the long and rich tradition of Indian performance practices. There were a few early stirrings of Brechtian theatre such as Sathyu’s Sufaid Kundali (1963), as discussed in Chapter 2, where the playwright tried to engage with Indian performance practices. But they remained both urban and erratic, failing to create a political theatre using Brechtian aesthetics such as masks and metatheatre. In contrast to these experiments, Tanvir’s production created a genuine variant of Brechtian theatre that was both political and regional. By the regionalisation of Brecht, I mean more than the mere process of translating Brecht into an Indian language, transferring the setting of the play to India, and dressing characters based on specific styles of local dress. Rather, the process starts from the point of creating a Brechtian concept that seems to align with Brecht’s own aesthetics and the Indian style of acting and theatrical idioms. More importantly, Tanvir, in his prophetic and laconic observation – “[t]o be more Brechtian is to be more Indian” (Tanvir, “Brecht for One Producer”) – discovered a way to create an Indian equivalent of Brechtian theatre. Second, the act of regionalising is a conscious political act articulating the contested vision of the centre and the periphery where these visions stand for the Indian nation-state and the peripheral voices, respectively. Thus, to regionalise means to bring the discourse of power closer to the periphery. In this sense, to regionalise was to articulate multiple discourses of regional identities such as an ongoing war between dialects and standard Hindi that came together to form India or Indianness. Thereby, the production reacted against the call for a centralised nationalism that tried to undermine these multiple regional voices, and in turn, articulated the diversity and plurality of

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India. The period after independence in India was critical as various regional identities fought to preserve themselves against the onslaught that came from the Indian nation-state in the name of Indianness. The production questioned the Indian nation-state and its ease to use repressive state apparatuses of the colonial state. The Indian nation-state is seen as a successor both to the British colonial state and to the movement of Indian nationalism. To combine the two sets of attributes – ideals, institutions, aspirations – that emerged from these contradictory legacies was not an easy task. Broadly, the legal institutions and coercive apparatuses of the state remained similar to the last stage of colonial rule – to the disappointment of those who expected a radical overhaul of the state. (Kaviraj 222) Although the Indian “constitution sanctioned a distinctive two-tier nationalism which encouraged its citizens to be both Tamils/Bengalis/Gujaratis and Indians” (235), the coercive power of the state and its ability to fashion regional identities continued to grow. By returning to the regional theatrical expressions and vernacular language, Tanvir expressed his reluctance to side with the nation-state, an inheritor of the problems associated with the colonial state. Against the backdrop of “the regional,” I argue that Tanvir created a new brand of political theatre. Tanvir’s political theatre differed from other forms of political theatre such as the theatre of roots because Tanvir worked with uneducated village performers rather than urban artists as did other playwrights. In fact, in her extensive study of the theatre of roots, Erin Mee did not include the theatre of Tanvir within the larger project of the theatre of roots (discussed in Chapter 1) because she identified it not as a revivalist project but as a different project that used “traditional performance.” Tanvir’s turn to folk form was not to render the mysteries of the rural world to urban audiences but to articulate the discourse of the periphery by incorporating the acting styles of village actors that emerged out of the living and material conditions of the actors into his plays. This shift to village actors is significant because it allowed Tanvir to articulate the voice of the people over the voice of the urban artist, helping him form a people’s theatre. The aesthetics of Tanvir’s theatre articulates the plurality of theatres and identities in India. Put differently, it questions the Westernised idiom of urban theatre and the one-essence model of the nation-state that tries to homogenise and thus erases the diversity of India. The acting style used in the production – an improvisational style – contributed to this aesthetic by challenging the model of urban acting methods whereby the director dictates everything to the actors. In this reshaping of the theatre apparatus, Tanvir saw the Brechtian style of acting as the result of a discursive process rather than a collection of specific acting strategies.

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For Tanvir, the activity of regionalising was endowed with the agenda of a “culturally-oriented education programme” (“Theatre” 34). The production tried to shrink the “cultural gulf that existed between the city and the village, [that resulted] in a partial loss of cultural identity among the city youth on the one hand and a certain alienation and stagnation of a primitive culture among the rural people on the other” (“Theatre” 34). Not only was this aspect of Tanvir’s theatre an assertion of its necessary role as a cultural service but also it allowed Tanvir to oppose the discourse of urban theatre. Tanvir borrowed theatrical idioms from ritual and folk arts, and thus challenged the urban theatrical apparatus. By favouring folk and ritual aesthetics, which he considered genuinely Indian, over urban idioms, which he saw as Western, Tanvir attempted to challenge the hierarchical system that considered urban/ Western productions superior to regional: [i]f the Indian playwrights evolve a truly indigenous theatre, it will be a truly Brechtian theatre as well …. not only [this theatre] would have imbibed the folk and classical traditions of India, assimilating music and dance forms, but one that would be universal at the same time. (Tanvir, “Brecht for One Producer”) Tanvir’s words not only hinted at the possibility of creating Brechtian theatre using the practices of indigenous theatre but also revealed one of the reasons – “Brecht teaches you to be yourself ” – behind Brecht’s popularity in India. Although there is no denying that Bennewitz’s 1970 production was political, the use of Western theatrical traditions gave it an unfamiliar aura and thus restricted access only to a bourgeois urban audience. Tanvir’s use of Brechtian aesthetics was Indian, and thus it remained accessible to both rural and urban audiences. In terms of accessibility, Tanvir’s theatre was arguably more Brechtian than Brecht’s own theatre, which was decried for not being fully accessible to the working classes: [t]hough he [Brecht] had originally hoped to reach out to the working class with his art, the proletariat simply could not afford tickets to The Threepenny Opera or to any other of Brecht’s professionally produced plays. And although the codification of the estrangement effect seemed like an effective way to promote critical thinking among the working class in theory, it had never been tested on the audience for whom it was meant. (Morgan 59) By taking an essentially Eurocentric form and imbuing it with regional inf luences, politics, gestures and styles, Tanvir challenged the elitism associated with Brechtian theatre, and thus gave it a new lease of life by casting working-class actors and producing the play at regional centres in India, where it also became accessible to working classes. This interweaving created

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an alternative – that is, both a parallel and a native variant of Brechtian theatre  – that further contributes to our understanding of the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre. The production’s presentation of the coercive power of the Indian nationstate looked back at the past and showed how the problems associated with the colonial state continued to haunt the nation-state. In this sense, Tanvir’s theatre defied the linear reading of the term “postcolonial” by presenting the postcolonial period as the successor to problems of the colonial past. Tanvir thus regionalised Brecht: rather than giving Brecht a pan-Indian character, he explored not only the adaptability of Brechtian theatre but also the diversity of India. The production mediated both the diversity of the Indian nation while demonstrating that the construct of the nation state propagating one uniform form was not enough to understand Brechtian theatre in India. Broadly, this chapter presents a study of Brechtian theatre in its full complexity by recognising the multiplicity of visions: Western versus Indian, nation-state versus people, urban versus regional, and centre versus periphery. By juxtaposing antithetical narratives, Tanvir accentuated the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. The production departed from earlier productions by creating an Indian equivalent of Brechtian theatre, differing fully from its Western/urban counterpart. Instead of capitulating to the vision of the nation-state, it presented a regional variant of Brechtian theatre, and thus mediated political tension between the centre and the periphery. I interpret “the regional” as indicating not only the rise of an Indian variant of Brechtian theatre, but in the stronger sense to mean that there is no essential version of Brechtian theatre in India, for there is no single essence of India.

Constructing Indian aesthetics The performance of Shajapur ki Shantibai took place in the semi-circular stage of the Triveni Kala Sangam in Mandi House, Delhi in 1978.13 The script of the 1978 production survives and corresponds closely with the original play. However, not surprisingly, the names of the characters were Indianised. Although I use the names from Brecht’s play, I give their Hindi equivalent whenever the meanings of their names are relevant. At the heart of the regionalising discourse of the production is its interpretation of the concept of parable. Brecht calls the play a parable, and its contradictory narrative – of good and evil – presents a critique of modernity and capitalism: it is impossible to be good on earth (Brecht, The Good Person 6). This binary opposition is further highlighted in the play through the equation of good and evil cousins: Shen Teh and Shui Ta. The parable is essentially a site of judgement, highlighting the triumph of good over evil. Each parable is also a puzzle with which readers must engage to reach a precise moral lesson. Brecht drifted towards this form because of its quality of binary opposition as well as its innate ability to engage with readers. In other words, the parable

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form must have allowed Brecht an easy means to underscore the dialectics of his theatre. According to John Crossan, “[t]he surface function of parable is to create contradiction within a given situation of complacent security but, even more unnervingly, to challenge the fundamental principle of reconciliation by making us aware of the fact that we made up the reconciliation” (40).14 In this critical regard, parables challenge the status quo (32). The same antithetical narratives exist in Brecht’s parables, as showed by Darko Suvin, who asserts that the Brechtian parable permits “two diametrically opposed – symmetrically inverse – answers on its two levels.” First, “it shows defeat in the contingent and alienated world of the vehicle, as in a camera obscura of the ideology.” Second, “the parable’s tenor then impresses upon spectators the premises for avoiding defeat in their world” (203). Despite the existence of these two competing narratives, there is no denying the fact that the character of Brecht’s parables is different from the original. Not surprisingly, in proximity with Brecht’s idea of dialectical theatre, they are often open-ended. This means that though Brecht presents two antithetical narratives as with Shen Teh (good) and Shui Ta (evil), he does not subvert them: he impresses upon his audiences the presence of these narratives without choosing one for them. Tellingly in Brecht’s parables, the existence of the aporia of opposing accounts remains unresolved. This means that Brecht’s parables are not parables in the original sense, that is, sites of judgement, because they avoid dictating the final lesson of the triumph of good over evil. They do not offer audiences a precise moral lesson but enough latitude to reach a moral conclusion on their own. Although Brecht does not provide an answer in the play, he subjects both characters to a merciless critique so that the audience can reach a conclusion by cultivating their faculty of judgement. For Brecht, a parable is not an instrument of narrative subversion – as opposed to the traditional meaning of the parable, where the narrative of good always wins over evil – but an instrument of provocation. He highlights both narratives for critical analysis without siding with either one. Tanvir used parables similarly to Brecht. Like Brecht’s parables which suspend the final act of judgement and open space for the readers, Tanvir’s production opened a space for the readers to exercise judgement, especially moral judgement. Like Brecht, Tanvir left the audience with two antithetical narratives of good and evil without delivering any moral lesson. Although the opposing narratives of powerlessness and power remained in Tanvir’s production, they were used to highlight the power dynamics between the centre and the periphery. Shui Ta was shown to be powerful in both productions, however, in the Indian production, this empowerment was the result of him being a representative of the centre or nation-state while in Brecht he was a representative of the bourgeoisie. In the Indian production, the rise of Shui Ta (the Indian nation-state) meant the fall of the gods (the periphery). Tanvir hinted at the possibility that the gods’ disempowerment was the result of the empowerment of a corrupt politician like Shui Ta. In this play of binaries – disempowerment and empowerment – Tanvir suggested a

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connection between the rise of the corrupt politician at the centre and the poverty of the periphery. I argue that the characters of the three gods and Shui Ta were integral to Tanvir’s critique of power and, by paying close attention to their representations, show that Tanvir regionalised Brechtian theatre in India. I also analyse Tanvir’s diverse employment of Brecht’s characters to accentuate the socio-political conditions of India through a specific and distinct use of Brechtian aesthetics in India that underpins Brechtian theatre as pharmakonic. Tanvir dramaturgically represented the powerlessness of the people located in the periphery by underlining the disempowered state of the gods. In this portrayal, Tanvir’s suggestion was clear: in a world where the power of the people’s gods had been undermined, what chance did the real people have? I compare the gods’ attire and the Gestus of darshan (reciprocal seeing) in Tanvir’s production with the 16 November 1952 Frankfurt production of the play by Harry Buckwitz. My choice of this production for comparison was partly based on John Fuegi’s comments that this production was “partially supervised” by Brecht (Essential 131) and partly because it was greatly inf luential since it “haunted by repetition” to use Marvin Carlson’s formulation (11) later performances especially in regard to its Chinese setting and characteristics, which were inspired by the parable quality of the play. The photos of two famous productions – Berlin (1957)15 and Milan (1958)16 – that followed this production clearly show “that the Chinese setting of the fable has heavily inf luenced [their] production style” (Fuegi, Essential 131). While there is no denying that Brecht himself hinted at possibilities of engaging with Chinese elements, the extent of this engagement remains unclear in the absence of a production solely directed by Brecht. Moreover, Brecht’s Arbeitsjournal entry for 2 July 1940 underlined this ambiguity without providing any solution.17 The production also marked the premiere of Brecht’s play in Germany, and thus gives us a chance to see how Brecht’s theories worked out around the local audience. Brecht’s two closest collaborators, Teo Otto and Paul Dessau, were a part of the production team, with Otto designing the scene and Dessau directing the music. I now turn to the portrayal of the gods in Brecht’s 1952 production. Brecht’s Arbeitjournal entry for 20 September 1943 mentions that he explained to Christopher Isherwood how the gods as “agents for moral prescriptions that have become fatal, decline both outwardly and inwardly during their tour of inspection, until finally, starving and in a state of total disillusionment, they can even stomach the shabby fraud” (Brecht, Journals 298). Brecht explored the two shades of powerlessness – anachronism and dependence – in his portrayal of the gods. The production emphasised anachronism, through the Chinese traditional attire and dependence through the use of the staff. I analyse the scene showing the first encounter of the gods with Shen Teh to demonstrate how the director stripped them of their traditional grandeur of omnipotence.

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The gods were presented as anachronistic symbols without any relevance in the modern world of capitalism. This antediluvian aspect of their existence was highlighted with the help of their clothes – they wore dao pao, the Daoist gown originally associated with holy people. Brecht knew about Daoism and its first god/master Lao Tzu, as is clear from his poem “Legend of the Origin of the Book Tao-Te-Ching on Lao-Tsu’s Road into Exile” (1938). All three of the gods in the production were dressed in the traditional Daoist attire that turned them into mechanical replicas, resembling factory-made objects without any distinguishable features. This mechanical quality of the production was not only unique to the representation of the gods but was also extended to the character of Shui Ta, as I demonstrate in the next section. Although in a religious context, this dressing style would have bestowed upon them an aura of righteousness, in the production it symbolised their inability to keep up with the pace and ways of the modern world. In other words, the attire illustrated the anachronism of the gods and their antiquated existence. Wang’s identification of gods based on their old-fashioned clothes underscored this point. The role played by the staff, a stick held by the gods in the production, differed from its conventional role, and this change highlighted the weakness of the gods. In its traditional role in Daoist mythology, it connotes a symbol of authority and power. Daoist saints are known to hold either a staff, rod or sword, illustrating their authority. In contrast to this, the staff in the production was used as a walking stick – a symbol of support and weakness. It provided assistance to the needy gods without evolving into a metaphor for their omnipotence. Moreover, there were two staffs in this scene: the staff which was used by two of the gods and the staff – the Water seller’s pole – lifted by the third god. By making the third god carry the water-seller’s pole along with his water-vessels, the production turned him into a metaphor of weakness – not an omnipotent god, but a beast of burden. With the metaphor of a beast of burden, Buckwitz emphasised the fate of gods and morality in the capitalist world. Unlike Brecht’s gods, which articulated the powerlessness of the proletariat in the capitalist world, Tanvir’s gods were the physical manifestation of the powerlessness of the periphery. Tanvir turned them into a physical site displaying the powerlessness of the periphery first by the strangeness of their regional attire, and second, by their use of the ritualistic gesture of darshan (reciprocal seeing). It was important to depict the gods using this regional metaphor to highlight their postcolonial condition. The gods, like the people in the periphery, were stuck somewhere between the pre-modern world and modern worlds. By portraying the gods in such a way, Tanvir showed that India’s independence could not change the dilapidated condition of the periphery, which remained underdeveloped. The strangeness of their attire physically manifested the powerlessness of the periphery. Tanvir’s gods wore a traditional Chhattisgarh karma (one piece

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of cloth that covers the upper body), khhumri (a conical bamboo hat worn by peasants during the rainy season in Chhattisgarh), and a forehead crown, along with modern pants. The gods’ attire blended the regional style with the modern and gave a glimpse of a world which was in a state of f lux. Unlike Brecht, Tanvir did not aim to provide an aura of divinity to the gods through their attire, but to highlight their strangeness – they were neither completely divine nor completely human. By distancing his gods from Brecht’s gods, Tanvir brought them closer to the material conditions of the actors who, come from the working class. Like the people in the periphery, they were caught between the modern world (modern trousers) and rural values (karma, etc.). By accentuating this strangeness, Tanvir wanted to highlight the underdeveloped state of the periphery in comparison to the developed state of the centre, as shown through the modern suit of the politician. Tanvir further underlined the powerlessness of the periphery by constructing the Gestus of darshan. I analyse the act of seeing or darshan in the prologue to demonstrate how it emphasised the powerlessness of the gods/periphery, and propose that this representation of the powerlessness of the gods was an instance of the Indian Gestus because Tanvir partook in Indian poetics and politics to construct it. Before I analyse this scene, I brief ly explain the term darshan in the broader context of religion where it first originated. The act of seeing in India has remained intertwined with religion, and darshan is a culmination of this act. In Hinduism, darshan “refers especially to religious seeing, or the visual perception of the sacred” (Eck 3). This act is very significant because unlike in the West, where seeing in a religious context is a one-sided experience, in India, it is a two-way process. This means that seeing creates a sequence of exchanges between deity and devotee. It is not only the worshipper who sees the deity but the deity who also sees the worshipper, and “the prominence of the eyes on Hindu sacred images” (5) is a reminder of this two-way process. This act of reciprocal seeing is physically manifested in India in the way that the divine beings are always portrayed with visible eyes that look at the observer. In other words, devotees in India are fully aware of the fact that the god sees them too, and since this awareness is based on the physical portrayal of the god it is thus more than a feeling. According to the Indian system of aesthetics, seeing “is a going forth of the sight towards the object. Sight touches it and acquires its form. Touch is the ultimate connection by which the visible yields to being grasped. While the eye touches the object, the vitality that pulsates in it is communicated” (Kramrisch 136). The activity of seeing is thus “regarded as a form of contact” (Gonda 19) in the Indian context and it has always remained synonymous with the sense of touch. The act of darshan is also an acknowledgment of the beholder who remains otherwise hidden in privileged Western aesthetics. Discussing this difference, Christopher Pinney asserts that “[t]he ‘supreme fiction’ of the absent beholder becomes – in colonial India – a mark of Western ‘distinction’ and a marker of distance from Hindu idols” (23). Hindu idols in Pinney’s description refer to

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the ritual art in India that has remained the antithesis of privileged Western art, which denied the presence of the beholder. In his postcolonial theatre, Tanvir used some of these ritualistic expressions that had become estranged in the colonial period. Allowing direct engagement with the audience, they bestowed upon Tanvir’s theatre a different set of aesthetics, which can be described as what Pinney calls “corpothetics (sensory, corporeal aesthetics)” – as opposed to “‘Western’ practices, which privilege a disembodied, unidirectional and disinterested vision” (193). Pinney coined the term to differentiate his version of aesthetics from the conventional variant of aesthetics that relies on Kantian disinterestedness. In contrast to privileged art, which numbs “the human sensorium” (Pinney 21), the aesthetics of ritual art in India remained associated with exciting the audience by acknowledging them. This means that unlike in conventional aesthetics, the new aesthetics acknowledge observers and thus facilitate social communication with them. By creating the new aesthetics with the help of the gesture of darshan, Tanvir resisted the aesthetics of the urban theatre, which closely imitated Western aesthetics that rely on Kantian disinterestedness. In close proximity with the principles of ritual art, Tanvir acknowledged the beholder to challenge the privileged urban theatre. Simultaneously, this new aesthetics allowed Tanvir to create an Indian variant of the Gestus. It is important to underline that Tanvir managed to incorporate these ritualistic expressions in his theatre because of his tribal actors who employed the Nacha style of acting. The actors of the Nacha, a folk form native to Chhattisgarh, are generally versatile artists “with a natural gift for singing, dancing, acting and playing instruments” (Tanvir “Theatre” 40). Moreover, a Nacha artist does not have “to be taught movement, voice projection, singing or acting. Being illiterate, he is of necessity an improviser of his own dramatic story and characters” (“Theatre” 40). Peter Brook captures this difference in the acting style in Tanvir’s theatre when he comments that Tanvir explains the story to his actors with no intellectualizing and they at once understand. There’s no conversion of M. Jourdain into Indian terms. They just recognize a fat man who’s made money and wants to make a splash in society. They move from the specific to the universal and back again to the specific. (“The Indian Pilgrimage” 13) Brook’s comment underlines the potential of Tanvir’s theatre for articulating resistance by highlighting the actors’ ability to create their own idiom based on their postcolonial condition. This reinterpretation of the script by the actors based on their social as well as geographical milieu turned Tanvir’s theatre into people’s theatre. I now move to analyse the prologue to show that Tanvir used the gesture of darshan to present the powerlessness of the periphery. To augment this

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powerlessness of the periphery, Tanvir created two instances of darshan in the same scene. There were four characters on the stage: one on the far left of the stage and the other three on the far right. On the right was Wang, the water-seller, who stood perpendicular to the audience. He stood there to welcome the three “highest” gods who had arrived in Szechwan. Reciprocating his gaze was the first god who stood almost face to face opposite him. The second god looked at the audience in a manner which was part quizzical and part ref lective. It was this gaze of the second god that saved this scene from turning into an instance of naturalism by breaking the fourth wall. The third god, who stood towards the left of the stage, to the right of the second god, looked towards the first god and Wang. Except for the second god, all the characters stood perpendicular to the audience. It is clear that there were two instances of darshan: one between Wang and the first god, and the other between the second god and the audience. Having explained the meaning of the religious gesture of darshan and two of its manifestations in the prologue scene, I will now argue that Tanvir transformed this religious gesture into a social Gestus, “the gestus relevant to society, the gestus that allows conclusions to be drawn about the social circumstances” (Brecht, “On Gestic Music” 168). With this transformation, the act of darshan transcended its religious meaning, where it is an act of innocent seeing between the god and the devotee, to become a utilitarian act of bourgeois transaction. Tanvir extended the utilitarian aspect of darshan not only to Wang, who sought the gods for his benefits, but also to the gods who sought a good person to prove their own worth. In order to turn the holy gesture of darshan into a social Gestus, Tanvir revised one aspect of the original religious gesture – that is, its idea of empowerment. The act of darshan, in its original meaning, is an act of empowerment, though limited to the worshipper. It is a one-sided act since only the worshipper becomes empowered after seeing the divine. However, Tanvir’s production pointed towards the empowerment of all three gods and Wang, as all of them wanted something from the other. This shift in the original meaning of darshan where it is a holy site of only the god empowering the worshipper turned it into a bourgeois site of supply and demand. Tanvir’s use of darshan, as an act of empowerment, presented the disempowered selves of Wang and the gods. Tellingly, only the disempowered can be empowered. Therefore, in the production the gesture of darshan was doubly empowering, unlike in religious contexts where the presence of the god only empowers the devotee, and not vice versa. To put it in context of the production, both instances of the Gestus of darshan were used to highlight the powerlessness of the regional gods, which in turn showed the powerlessness of the periphery. The first instance was of the darshan or the act of reciprocal seeing between the first god and Wang. In the religious instance, as mentioned before, darshan empowers only the devotee. Unlike the religious instance, here the gesture of darshan delegated power to both. This act of empowerment was enacted on their body through their gestures. Wang’s excitement in meeting the first god was recorded through

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the gesture of his left hand. His left hand was lifted in the air and stuck out, a tell-tale sign of his excitement on “taking darshan”18 of the gods. If we read this against the text, it becomes clear that it was not a gesture of reverence but of avarice. The play clearly underlines this aspect as we learn that Wang wanted to meet the gods before they were either “surrounded by important people” (Brecht, The Good Person 3) or submerged in “far too many demands” (3) for demands to be fulfilled. The audiences must have understood that for Wang, the act of darshan was not the act of seeing the divine but was an act of demand-fulfilment. Interestingly, the gods seemed to be exhilarated by seeing Wang: his excited disposition of was captured with the help of a smile bordering on a laugh. The play states the reason behind this contented disposition of the first god. It is the belief, which eventually proves mistaken, that the god has finally found a good person, in the form of Wang. The gods’ position was no different in the production since, like Wang, they were on a quest to find a good person. Their presence in Szechwan was not an act of divine charity but came out of their own need to find a “god fearing” person (Brecht, The Good Person 5), who by definition was a good person. The play clearly states that the gods’ faith in their own powers is shaken as they remained unacknowledged in towns such as Shun, and Kwan before their arrival in Szechwan. By emphasising the happiness of both Wang and the first god through their gestures, Tanvir managed to demonstrate the transactional aspect of the darshan. The animated secondary acts – the smile on the face of the first god, the hand gesture of Wang – were amplified to show the impact of the primary gesture of darshan on them. In the Indian production, the meaning of the gesture of darshan changed from the holy act of seeing the divine to the bourgeois act of transaction as both sides received something in return. In other words, in Tanvir’s hands the gesture of darshan became the social Gestus because it was deployed to highlight the crumbling state of the periphery, where not only humans but also gods were needy and sought help to survive. Tanvir heightened the effect of the secondary gestures of “smile” and “hand gesture” with the help of the third god. The third god was strategically distanced from the first god and he and Wang were made to stare attentively at them as if trying to witness the transaction. This stare of the third god was striking, punctuating the gesture of darshan and arresting the attention of the audience. By allowing an ordinary water-seller, a member of the working class, to empower the gods along the lines of Brecht’s play, Tanvir reformulated the religious gesture of darshan. It was with this double act of empowerment – presented through the smile of the first god and the hand gesture of Wang – that Tanvir presented the picture of the new world that was driven purely by economics. Darshan became a site of wish-fulfilment, in opposition to the celebratory acknowledgment of the divine. By underlining this shift, Tanvir turned the gesture of darshan into Gestus. The second instance of darshan further drew the attention of the audience to the helplessness of the gods as a metaphor for the powerlessness of  the

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periphery. It simultaneously challenged the naturalistic theatre apparatus. This  instance of darshan, registered through the part-quizzical and partref lective gaze of the second god upon the audience, highlighted the disempowered state of the gods as it hinted at the continued quest for a good person. Unlike the omnipotent gods of religious mythologies, these gods in their powerlessness roamed from one town to another in search of a good person. By looking at the audience, the second god delineated that the next town must be beyond the audience. This indication of the second god showed how the periphery continued to suffer as the gods could not find a good person, also a reference to a good representative of the nation-state that could alleviate their pain. This Gestus of darshan showed that despite the formation of a nation-state the problems of the colonial state never vanished: they got transferred to the nation-state. In any case, the periphery continued to be deprived and disadvantaged. This instance of Gestus also broke the fourth wall as the second god looked at the audience. Tanvir’s privileging of theatrical “directness” by using the gesture of darshan can be seen as an act of resistance against Indian urban theatre which continued to be naturalistic and “anti-theatrical.” The gesture of darshan was significant in the production because it freed Brechtian theatre in India from the tyranny of polished urban theatrical expressions, which often relied on Western aesthetics. It is clear from this that Tanvir’s and Brecht’s gods differ. Tanvir’s portrayal presented them as regional both in their attire and in their use of the Indian Gestus of darshan and thus turned them into a physical manifestation of the periphery. By portraying the gods using regional gesture and attire, Tanvir voiced the powerlessness of the periphery. Discussing the relation between Tanvir’s poetics and politics, Javed Malick writes that “Tanvir’s predilection for the folk and his democratic or left wing consciousness… are not two separate currents of aspects of his theatre. On the contrary, they are closely interconnected or intertwined and defining strands in the colourful and vibrant tapestry of his work” (131). Malick’s highlighting of this interconnectedness between form and content further shows that Tanvir’s turn to the regional was always tied to his left-wing politics of challenging power structures. This turn also shows that Tanvir’s variant differed not only from the European counterpart but also from the urban variant of Brechtian theatre in India. It turned the site of inf luence into a space challenging any attempts to create an absolute idea of Brechtian theatre. By highlighting this crisis of authority, Tanvir presented Brechtian theatre as an ambiguous site. This ambiguity is important because it bestowed upon Brechtian theatre both the power to challenge the hegemonic structures and an ability to remain unappropriated by the same structures. In the next section, I further analyse how in Tanvir’s hands Brechtian theatre in India challenged the power of the nation-state by examining the representation of the centre in Tanvir’s portrayal of Shui Ta to argue that these differences present the site of inf luence as a place whereby any fixed essence of Brechtian theatre is deconstructed to reconstruct a new variant.

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Towards a people’s theatre The portrayal of gods, as I have shown in the last section, was one of two Janus-faced narratives of power intrinsic to Tanvir’s engagement with the parable aspect of the play. Contrary to the gods’ narrative was Shui Ta’s power narrative. By engaging with the difference between the narratives of the gods and Shui Ta, I demonstrate how the postcolonial condition of a subject is dependent on its location. This means that Shui Ta’s narrative was different from the gods’ because of his position at the centre as highlighted by his portrayal. Tanvir demonstrated how Shui Ta was the new god, a symbolic reference to the power of the Indian nation-state. Tanvir’s portrayal of Shui Ta in Gandhian attire, a recognisable sign in postcolonial India of a “corrupt” Indian politician, highlighted the failure of the Indian state to contribute to the welfare of the periphery. Shui Ta’s Machiavellian portrayal could also be read as Tanvir’s move towards the people’s theatre. In contrast to the view that Tanvir’s theatre became people-centric in the mid-80s after the assassination of Indira Gandhi and Safdar Hashmi (Rai19 33), I argue that people’s theatre emerged after the declaration of the Emergency, with Shajapur ki Shantibai being one of the earliest examples of this form of theatre. Hashmi also hinted at this shift in Tanvir’s loyalties from Indian State to the people in his interview of 1988: “[i]n 1969, for example, he came out into the street with a play in support of Indira Gandhi when the Congress split…. But I have been observing a change in that man’s work over the last seven or eight years. It is becoming more and more fundamental” (Hashmi, “The People” 21). Hashmi’s words show the shift in Tanvir’s politics from state-centric to people-centric. I analyse the bribery scene and demonstrate how Tanvir represented the debasement of the centre by highlighting the craftiness of Shui Ta. This scene impressed on the audience the Machiavellian character of Shui Ta as he was exposed in the act of bribing the constable. Not only did Tanvir make available to Shui Ta the controlling power over the constable and his baton, a metonym for what Louis Althusser called the “Repressive State Apparatus” (On the Reproduction of Capitalism 75),20 through the blocking of the scene, he also politicised this representation by depicting Shui Ta as a politician. This depiction of Shui Ta as a politician was significant because it offered a vivid picture of the direct connection between the poverty of the periphery and the corruption at the centre of the nation state.21 It is important to remember that Tanvir’s depiction of Shui Ta as a politician situated him within the centre. This means that the postcolonial condition of Shui Ta differed from the gods who remained restricted to the periphery. In this scene, performed inside the tobacco shop, the constable sat on a wooden stool towards the right of the stage. In his left hand, which rested on his left knee, he held the baton, which extended from his left to right knee. His face was perpendicular to the audience as he looked up at Shui Ta who

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stood behind him towards the left of the stage. The gaze of the constable was reciprocated by Shui Ta who wore a safari suit made up of khadi (an Indian homespun cotton cloth), a Gandhi topi (cap), and held a staff (walking-stick) in his left hand. Clearly, Tanvir’s portrayal of Shui Ta differed from the 1952 Frankfurt production of the play where Shui Ta represented the character of a bourgeois. The Frankfurt production presented him as a factory made object by equipping him with Meyerholdian/bio-mechanical movements and a mask, which covered the upper half of his face.22 Unlike the original, Tanvir’s Shui Ta was not shown to be mechanical, but he highlighted the repressiveness and corruption of the nation-state. I now move on to analyse how Tanvir portrayed the repressiveness in Shui Ta’s character through the policeman’s baton. An exhibition of power with the display of the policeman’s baton was a familiar site in Tanvir’s productions. Here again, we find one such policeman like in the 1975 production of Charandas Chor,23 but with a difference. In Charandas Chor, the male protagonist, who was a thief, was chased by a constable in multiple scenes. The body in these slapstick chases became the cynosure of all eyes as Charandas ran to escape a beating from the constable. The baton in the hand of the constable was exhibited, in these chases, with the power to crush bodies. It is important to note that in these scenes, the constable’s swift body movements, which were made to be magnificently slapstick, undermined the power of the baton since they arrested the attention of the audience. Unlike the production of Charandas Chor, where the power of the baton was undermined by the movement of the constable, the production of Shajapur ki Shantibai exhibited the power of the baton in all its glory, by presenting the constable in a fixed position, by making him sit on a wooden stool. It was the unchanging posture of sitting that allowed full access to the audience of the menacing presence of the baton. To further punctuate the baton, the constable strategically looked at Shui Ta, who stood behind him. This gesture, with the constable’s face perpendicular to the audience, denied any point of eye contact between the constable and the audience. The eye contact would have underlined the power of the constable but in the absence of it, the power of the constable was emphasised only with the help of the baton that lay in front of the audience’s field of vision. Not only did the blocking make the baton the primary symbol of repressive power, it also showed how the power of the constable over the baton was transferred to Shui Ta. The blocking made evident the power dynamics between the constable and Shui Ta. The standing position of Shui Ta gave him a towering presence in comparison to the constable, who sat on the stool, and thus emphasised his authority. Shui Ta’s gaze further contributed to this dynamic. Given his standing position, Shui Ta, seemed to look down upon the constable. The constable’s act of looking up at Shui Ta could similarly be read as an act of submission to the authority of Shui Ta. By blocking Shui Ta and the constable

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in this way, Tanvir made us aware of the repressive power of Shui Ta, which in turn referred to the power of the nation-state. Having demonstrated how Tanvir first bestowed power on the baton and later transferred the power to Shui Ta, I now analyse the portrayal of Shui Ta to show how he was portrayed as a “corrupt” politician. The corollary of this connection between the power bestowed upon Shui Ta and his corrupt state of mind was suggested as the reason behind the powerlessness of the people. Strategically, Tanvir created the duplicitous personality of Shui Ta by constructing a visual vocabulary of symbols once associated with Gandhi. Khadi, one of the Gandhian symbols, emphasised dishonesty in the character of Shui Ta. Although in colonial India, khadi was championed by Mahatma Gandhi, perceived as the epitome of honesty and truth, the same khadi in postcolonial India, offered a different connotation: “[t]he khadi clad politician is usually seen today as ‘corrupt,’ khadi itself being perceived as a dead giveaway, a uniform of the rogue, as something like the hypocritical gesture of one who protests too much” (Chakrabarty, “Clothing” 28). Besides this, the use of khadi-like-cloth pointed at the connection between the discourse of Shui Ta and the nation-state, since one of the meanings of khadi was seen as “a material artifact of the nation” (Trivedi xx). Additionally, khadi was also “a visual symbol, marking individual people as distinctly Indian, in relation to visual symbols of regional, religious, caste, and class identification” (Trivedi xx). This means Shui Ta, in his act of wearing khadi, pointed to the one-essential Indianness that erased heterogeneity of regional identities. Tanvir further punctuated the difference between Gandhi’s sacrifices for the people and Shui Ta’s inability to renounce material well-being by making Shui Ta wear the Gandhi topi in a tilted fashion. By tilting the cap, Tanvir hinted at the underlying element of deceit in his character. That Tanvir wanted to highlight Shui Ta’s Machiavellian skills was nowhere more apparent than in the use of the staff (walking-stick). In the Gandhian sense, the staff is both a symbol of support and determination since it presents the fragile body of Gandhi, often represented with a slouched posture, and the body’s ability to fight against colonial rule despite its weakness. Additionally, in the context of Gandhi, the staff was an ideogram of the moderate and non-ahimsa (violent) politics of Gandhi. The act of giving up the staff in the Indian politics of the times symbolised a marriage with more radical and revolutionary politics often associated with Bhagat Singh and Subhash Chandra Bose. At odds with these uses of the staff was that of Shui Ta. The photograph of the scene clearly shows that Shui Ta holds it not to support himself but to stand tall. Thus, the staff added to the power of Shui Ta over the constable. The presence of a cigar on the left hand of Shui Ta, which was eventually offered as the bribe to the constable, symbolised a Machiavellian strategy, in opposition to the honesty approach advocated by Gandhi. The careful use of these symbols highlighted the resemblance of Shui Ta with the kinds of Indian politicians

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known to be corrupt and Machiavellian. By constructing the character of Shui Ta in the image of a corrupt and Machiavellian politician, Tanvir hinted at the reason behind the woes of the periphery. Interestingly, the portrayal of Shui Ta by a woman actor pointed at another layer of politicisation – that is, a probable connection between Shui Ta and the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi.24 The year of production of the play – 1978 – made this connection very likely.25 With both these acts of politicisation – the use of vestimentary practices to present Shui Ta as a politician and the probable link between Shui Ta and Indira Gandhi – Tanvir presented the corrupt power of the nation. This critique of the nation-state through Shui Ta’s portrayal highlighted the shift in Tanvir’s theatre. Tanvir’s theatre was no more a space to highlight the social or religious evils of society such as the dowry system but became a site to enact the nation-state’s inability to solve the people’s problems. This shift in Tanvir’s conception of the purpose of theatre marked the beginning of the people’s theatre in India. Brechtian theatre in Tanvir’s hands became a site to challenge power structures, including the oppressive power of the nation-state. This site of inf luence was important in that it constructed an Indian variant of Brechtian theatre that differed from its European counterpart. The difference between them was both on the level of the form and the objective. The form of Tanvir’s variant diverged because it continuously negotiated with regional performance practices to create itself. In addition to the form, Tanvir’s variant differed from the European variant in its objective as it offered a critique of the nation-state and the state’s inability to provide for its citizens. Both these differences empowered us to see the pharmakonic quality of Brechtian theatre – that is, how Brechtian theatre refuses to adhere to any fixed essence but continues to be an ambiguous space that remains dependent on its geo-political location. Thus, I have considered how the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics is not a colonising act to westernise Indian theatre but a revitalisation of the older performance practices of Indian theatre. By underscoring the role played by these forms in the formation of Tanvir’s production, I have demonstrated how inf luence can be a recognition of the contribution of multiple voices rather than just an acknowledgement of one dominant strand. Second, Tanvir’s variant in its engagement with regional idioms and politics helped Brechtian theatre to evolve into a people’s theatre which articulated the tug of war between the nation-state and the periphery in postcolonial India. Significantly, Tanvir’s use was different from previous instances when Brechtian theatre was used to articulate the voice of the urban populace. Tanvir turned Brechtian theatre into a site articulating the woes of the people in the periphery – that is, the marginalised. Not only did this act expand the spectrum of Brechtian theatre but it also allowed Tanvir to create the people’s theatre by moving away from the urban models of political theatre. The new model of political theatre articulated the subversive character of India’s own performance practices. Moreover, this regional variant of Brechtian theatre has

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further shown that the dissemination of a given construct cannot be analysed without taking into account both local and global power imbalances. This means that multiple postcolonial conditions will give rise to diverse variants of Brechtian theatre challenging the universal essence of Brechtian theatre. Moreover, with this analysis of Tanvir’s production, I have further questioned the one-model adaptation approach to Brecht’s dissemination in India, which sees dissemination as only as transcultural rather than an intercultural and intracultural act.

Notes 1 For the full background on this matter, see Tanvir’s interview with Vibhu Kumar, “Habib Tanvir Se Ek Antrang Baatcheet,” Kathryn Hansen’s “Indian Folk Traditions and the Modern Theatre,” Erin Mee’s “The Fight for Regional Autonomy through Regional Culture,” and Sudipta Kaviraj’s The Imaginary Institution of India. 2 It should be mentioned that Tanvir’s entire corpus is a living testimony to his fascination with gods and gurus. He directed plays like Ponga Pandit exposing “the comic dilemma of a caste conscious Brahman [a guru-like figure] who maintained a relationship with a Dalit woman” (Dalmia, Poetics 274), while his magnum opus, Charandas Chor (1975), was about the transformation of a thief into a guru or a god-like figure. 3 Two variants of the name are used in different editions of the work. I use Wang rather than Wong. 4 The photograph of the gods and Wang can be found on page 149 of Theatre India: Journal of the National School of Drama (no.1, 2012). 5 This photograph can be found on page 152 of Theatre India: Journal of the National School of Drama (no.1, 2012). 6 The reasons for the Emergency ranged from the aftermath of war with Pakistan in 1971 and oil crisis of 1973. 7 In this production, Shen Teh was named Shanti, meaning peace. 8 “Naya” Theatre means the “new” theatre in English. I see the company as a pivotal point in the construction of new aesthetics in India. 9 Formerly a part of Madhya Pradesh but on 1 November 2000, it was made into a separate state by combining 16 Chhattisgarhi-speaking districts of Madhya Pradesh. The new state is called Chhattisgarh. Although Tanvir’s Naya theatre troupe is located in Bhopal, it continues to engage with Chhattisgarhi performance practices. 10 He founded his own theatre troupe after he was “thrown out” of the Hindustani Theatre group by the founder, Begum Qudsia Zaidi, for not directing another classical Sanskrit play entitled Mudrarakshasa (Tanvir, “It Must Flow” 18). 11 See Mee who maintains that “[m]odern theatre in India developed as part of the colonial enterprise in three port [and urban] cities established and built up by the British East India Company – Calcutta, Bombay and Madras (now Kolkata, Mumbai and Chennai)” (Theatre of Roots 1). 12 This turn in the 1960s towards regionalism is well-established. Two seminal texts that underline this turn in theatre and theatre criticism are Joseph Wesley Zeigler’s The Revolutionary Stage (1973) and George Rowell and Anthony Jackson’s The Repertory Movement: A History of Regional Theatre in Britain (1984). Although there were eclectic reasons behind the rise of regionalism in different countries, one common thread that ran across them was the movement was seen as a reaction against the State as either imperial-state or nation-state. It registered

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13 14

15

16 17 18 19 20

21 22

23 24 25

a protest against two aftermaths of the rise of the State, that is, centralisation and uniformity. The movement, particularly in the US, was the consequence of little theatre or community theatre movements of the early 1900s which lost their impetus after World War II. These regional theatres in the US resemble one another on three counts to use the terminology of Zeigler: institutionalization, individualism, and decentralization. In contrast to the US model, the regional was also designed to achieve fuller representation against a centrist (and often imperial) approach, as seen in the case of Australia and Canada. Unlike the West, the regional in India was associated first with resistant movements against the imperial state and later against the nation-state. In addition to seeking both the voice of the community and fuller representation, the regional theatre movement in India challenged the soul-destroying element of modernity. The dates of the production could not be established as the production was not extensively reviewed as newspapers in the year 1978 were busy reviving themselves after the two-year Indian Emergency. Crossan notes that there are five types of stories: myth (which is used to create the world), apologue (which defends the world created by the mythical story), action (which probes the world), satire (which attacks the world) and parable (which subverts the world). This production was originally performed “in the East German city of Rostock by a satellite company of the Berliner Ensemble under the direction of Benno Besson, his [Brecht’s] most brilliant student” (Fuegi, Essential 130–131) and in 1957 “moved to the headquarters of the Ensemble” (Essential 131). This production was “by the director much admired by Brecht, Giorgio Strehler” (Fuegi, Essential 131). He first notes that we are still pondering over what should we use: “bread and milk or rice and tea” for the Szechwan play. Second, he writes that the Chinese element is used a “disguise” and “a disguise full of holes at that!” (Brecht Journals 76). In the popular terminology of Hinduism, worshippers take darshan (darshan lena) of gods while gods give darshan (darshan dena). This is a pen name of an activist associated with Jana Natya Manch, the theatre group founded by Safdar Hashmi. He argued, “[b]e it recalled that the state apparatus comprises, in ‘Marxist theory,’ the government, administration, army, police, courts and prisons, which together constitute what we shall henceforth call the Repressive State Apparatus” (Althusser, “On the Reproduction of Capitalism” 75). Tanvir who was a minister in Rajya Sabha between 1972 and 1978 had knowledge of the corruption that eroded the state machinery. I refer to the photograph of Shui Ta that can be accessed at BBA Theaterdokumentation 2537/019, Bertolt Brecht Archiv, Akademie Der Künste, Berlin. The same photograph was reproduced in the newspaper, Abendpost, on 17 November 1952 as a part of Willy H. Thiem’s article, “Der Gute Mensch von Sezuan konnte nicht immer gut sein” (“The Good Person of Sezuan could not be always good”). Charandas Chor was first performed by Naya Theatre at Kamani Auditorium, Delhi, on 3 May 1975. I refer to Indira Gandhi by her full name throughout the chapter so that there is no confusion between her and Mahatma Gandhi. In his speech delivered in 1975 immediately after the declaration of the Emergency Jaya Prakash Narayan, the leader of the opposition party, avows: “[t]he youth, the peasants, the working class, all with one voice must declare that we will not allow fascism to raise its head in our country. We will not have dictatorship in our country. We will carry on our people’s government” (cited in Naipaul 143). Narayan was not the last person to voice his concern against Indira Gandhi. Newspapers like The Financial Times protested against her and her

Regionalising Brecht in India  133 decision to usurp the political freedom of the press in the name of Emergency by publishing Rabindranath Tagore’s poem “Where the Mind is Without Fear and the Head is Held High” (Rajgarhia). The cultural industry – literature and cinema – also remained critical of Indira Gandhi’s act. V.S. Naipaul wrote his ref lections of the Emergency and Indira Gandhi in his 1976 book, India: A Wounded Civilization. Salman Rushdie followed Naipaul in his magnum opus, The Midnight Children (1981) where he alludes to Indira Gandhi in the fictional character of a widow who is shown to be responsible for almost all the problems faced by Saleem, the male protagonist and other characters in the novel. Not only the print media but also the electronic media such as the Bollywood movie, Kissa Kursi Ka (Tale of Throne, 1977), which was eventually banned, remained critical of Indira Gandhi and her unfair use of her prime ministerial position to declare the state of emergency. It is quite clear from these instances that the cultural and political histories of the period portrayed Indira Gandhi as a Machiavellian character, and it is not far-fetched to see her ref lection in Tanvir’s portrayal of Shui Ta.

Bibliography Althusser, Louis Pierre. For Marx. New York: Verso, 1996. Print. ———. On the Reproduction of Capitalism: Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses. Trans. G.M. Goshgarian. London: Verso, 2014. Print. Brecht, Bertolt. Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Trans. John Willett. Ed. John Willett. 2nd ed. London: Methuen, 1974. Print. ———. “Against Georg Lukács.” Aesthetics and Politics. London: Verso, 1977. 68–85. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht’s Me-ti: Book of Interventions in the Flow of Things. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Print. ———. Diaries 1920–1922. Trans. John Willett. London: Eyre Methuen, 1979. Print. ———. Journals 1934–1955. Trans. Hugh Rorrison. Ed. John Willett. London: Methuen, 1993. Print. ———. Mother Courage and Her Children. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1994. Print. ———. The Caucasian Chalk Circle. Trans. Eric Bentley. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1999, Print. ———. Brecht on Art and Politics. Eds. Tom Kuhn and Steve Giles. London: Bloomsbury, 2003. Print. ———. The Threepenny Opera. Trans. Ralph Manheim and John Willett. London: Bloomsbury, 2005. Print. ———. Poetry and Prose. Eds. Reinhold Grimm and Caroline Molina Y. Vedia. London: Continuum, 2006. Print. ———. Brecht on Performance. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. “Notes on the Threepenny Opera.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 71–80. Print. ———. “Notes on the Mother (1933).” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 86–96. Print. ———. “Theatre for Pleasure or Theatre for Instruction.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 109–117. Print.

134  Regionalising Brecht in India ———. “On Experimental Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 133–146. Print. ———. “Verfremdung Effects in Chinese Acting.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 151–159. Print. ———. “On Gestic Music.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 167–169. Print. ———. “The Street Scene.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 176–183. Print. ———. “Realism and the Proletariat.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 200–206. Print. ———. “Short Organon.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 229–255. Print. ———. “Theatre Work.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 263–267. Print. ———. “Dialectical Theatre.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 283–285. Print. ———. “A Detour: The Caucasian Chalk Circle.” Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 298–299. Print. ———. Brecht on Theatre. Eds. Marc Silberman, Steve Giles and Tom Kuhn. 3rd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print. ———. The Good Person of Szechwan. Collected Plays: Six. Trans. John Willett. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 1994. 1–111. Print. ———. The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. Trans. Ralph Manheim. Eds. John Willett and Ralph Manheim. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 113–214. Print. Brook, Peter, director. Marat/Sade. United Artists, Marat Sade Productions, Royal Shakespeare Company, 1967. ———. “The Indian Pilgrimage of Peter Brook: Interview.” By Irving Wardle. The Times (5 May 1982): 13. Print. ———. The Empty Space. London: Touchstone, 1995. Print. Carlson, Marvin. The Haunted Stage: The Theatre as Memory Machine. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2001. Print. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Print. ———. “Clothing the Political Man: A Reading of the Use of Khadi/White in India Public Life.” Postcolonial Studies 4.1 (2001): 27–38. Print. Crossan, John Dominic. The Dark Interval: Towards a Theology of Story. Polebridge: Polebridge Press, 1988. Print. Dalmia, Vasudha. The Nationalization of Hindu Traditions: Bharatendu Harischandra and Nineteenth-Century Banaras. Delhi: Oxford U P, 1997. Print. ———. Poetics, Plays, and Performances: The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre. Delhi: Oxford U P, 2008. Print. Dalmia-Lüderlitz, Vasudha. “Brecht on the North Indian Hindi Stage: Facts & Figures.” Communications from the International Brecht Society 17.1 (1987): 53–61. Print. ———. “Brecht in Hindi: The Poetics of Response.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 16 (1988): 59–72. Print. ———. “To Be More Brechtian Is to Be More Indian: On the Theatre of Habib Tanvir.” The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre, Own and Foreign. Eds. Erika

Regionalising Brecht in India  135 Fischer-Lichte, Josephine Riley and Michael Gissenwehrer. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 1990. 221–235. Print. Derrida, Jacques. Dissemination. Trans. Barbara Johnson. London: Athlone Press, 1981. Print. Eck, Diana L. Darśan: Seeing the Divine Image in India. Chambersburg: Anima Books, 1981. Print. Foucault, Michel. This is Not a Pipe. Trans. James Harkness. Ed. James Harkness. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Print. ———. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. Alan M. Sheridan-Smith. London: Routledge, 1989. Fuegi, John. The Essential Brecht. Los Angeles: Hennessey & Ingalls, 1972. Print. ———. Bertolt Brecht: Chaos, According to the Plan. London: Cambridge U P, 1987. Print. Gonda, Jan. Eye and Gaze in the Veda. Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Company, 1969. Hansen, Kathryn. “Indian Folk Traditions and the Modern Theatre.” Asian Folklore Studies 42.1 (1983): 77–89. Print. ———. Grounds for Play: The Nautanki Theatre of North India. Berkeley: U of California P, 1991. Print. ———. “Languages on Stage: Linguistic Pluralism and Community Formation in the Nineteenth-Century Parsi Theatre.” Modern Asian Studies 37.2 (2003): 381– 405. Print. ———. “Foreword.” The Parsi Theatre: Its Origins and Development. By Somnant Gupt. Trans. Kathryn Hansen. New Delhi: Seagull Books, 2005. vii–xiii. Print. Hashmi, Safdar. “The Right to Perform.” Radical Street Performance: An International Anthology. Ed. Jan Cohen-Cruz. London: Routledge, 1998. 31–37. Print. ———. “The People Gave Us So Much Energy.” Theatre of the Streets: The Jana Natya Manch Experience. Ed. Sudhanva Deshpande. Interviewed by Eugene van Erven. Delhi: Janam, 2007: 17–58. Print. ———. “The First Ten Years of Street Theatre.” Theatre of the Streets: The Jana Natya Manch Experience. Ed. Sudhanva Deshpande. Delhi: Janam, 2013. 11–17. Print. Hashmi, Qamar Azad. The Fifth Flame: The Story of Safdar Hashmi. Trans. Madhu Prasad and Sohail Hashmi. Delhi: Viking, 1997. Print. Kapur, Anuradha. “Reassembling the Modern: An Indian Theatre Map since Independence.” Modern Indian Theatre: A Reader. Ed. Nandi Bhatia. New Delhi: Oxford U P, 2009. 41–55. Print. ———. “The Representation of Gods and Heroes: Parsi Mythological Drama of the Early Twentieth Century.” Journal of Arts & Ideas 23 & 24 (1993): 85–107. Print. Kaviraj, Sudipta. The Imaginary Institution of India: Politics and Ideas. New York: Columbia U P, 2010. Print. Kissa Kursi Ka. Directed by Amrit Nahata, performances by Shabana Azmi, Utpal Dutt, and Chaman Bagga, 1978. Kramrisch, Stella. The Hindu Temple. 2 Vols. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1976. Print. Loomba, Ania. Colonialism/Postcolonialism. 3rd ed. London: Routledge, 2015. Print. Malick, Javed. “Refashioning Modernity: Habib Tanvir and his Naya Theatre.” Theatre India 1 (2012): 131–147. Print. Mee, Erin Baker. “Decolonizing Modern Indian Theatre: The Theatre of Roots.” Diss. New York University 2004. Proquest Digital Dissertations, Web. 22 Oct. 2004.

136  Regionalising Brecht in India ———. Theatre of Roots: Redirecting the Modern Indian Stage. London: Seagull, 2007. Print. ———. “The Fight for Regional Autonomy through Regional Culture: Antigone in Manipur, North-East India.” Antigone on the Contemporary World Stage. Eds. Erin B. Mee and Helene P. Foley. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2011. 107–126. Print. Morgan, Margot. Politics and Theatre in Twentieth-Century Europe: Imagination and Resistance. New York: Palgrave, 2013. Print. Naipaul, Vidiadhar S. India: A Wounded Civilization. London: Andre Deutsch, 1977. Print. Pinney, Christopher. Photos of the Gods: The Printed Image and Political Struggle in India. London: Reaktion, 2004. Plato. The Symposium and the Phaedo. Trans. Raymond Larson. Ed. Raymond Larson. Wheeling: Harlan Davidson, 1980. Print. Prateek. “Reinterpreting Passion: A Study of Habib Tanvir’s Theatre.” Australasian Drama Studies. Vol. 68. 2016: 168–186. Print. Rai, Shohrat. “A Remarkable Career in the Theatre.” Economic and Political Weekly 44.26 (2009): 31–33. Print. Rajgarhia, Mahak. “40 Years On, 7 Things You Need to Know about Emergency Imposed by Indira Gandhi.” DNA: Daily News & Analysis (25 June 2014). DNA India, Web. 24 Oct. 2016. Rowell, George, and Anthony Jackson. The Repertory Movement: A History of Regional Theatre in Britain. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 1984. Print. Schwarz, Roberto. “Brecht’s Relevance: Highs and Lows.” New Left Review 57 (2009): 85–104. Print. Schwarz, Walter. “Two-Party Democracy Faces a Test Run.” The Guardian (14 May 1977): 5. Print. Shohat, Ella, and Robert Stam. Unthinking Eurocentrism: Multiculturalism and the Media. 2nd ed. London: Routledge, 2014. Print. Suvin, Darko. “Brecht’s Parable of Heavenly Food: Life of Galileo.” The Brecht Yearbook/Das Brecht-Jahrbuch 15 (1990): 186–214. Print. Tanvir, Habib. “Brecht for One Producer.” Enact 15 (1968): n. pag. Print. ———. “Habib Tanvir Se Antrang Baatcheet.” By Vibhu Kumar. Natarang 6.21 (1972): 43–50. Print. ———. “Theatre is in the Villages.” Social Scientist 2.22 (1974): 32–41. Print. ———. “Habib Tanvir Interviewed.” By Rajinder Paul. Enact 87 (1974): n. pag. Print. ———. Shajapur Ki Shanti Bai. 1978. Collection of Nagin Tanvir, Bhopal. ———. “It Must Flow – A Life in Theatre.” Seagull Theatre Quarterly: A Journal of Contemporary Performance and Theatre in India 10 (1996): 3–38. Print. ———. Charandas Chor. Trans. Anjum Katyal. Twist in the Folktale. Ed. Ananda Lal. Calcutta: Seagull, 2004. ———. Agra Bazaar. Calcutta: Seagull, 2006. Print. Trivedi, Harish. “Colonial Inf luence, Postcolonial Intertextuality: Western Literature and Indian Literature.” Forum for Modern Language Studies 43.2 (2007): 121– 133. Print. Trivedi, Lisa N. Clothing Gandhi’s Nation. Bloomington: Indiana U P, 2007. Print. Zeigler, Joseph Wesley. Regional Theatre: The Revolutionary Stage. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1973. Print.

5

The bends versus ends of Brechtian theatre A study of the theatre of Safdar Hashmi and Amal Allana

One of the most compelling aspects of Brechtian theatre in India in the late 1970s and early 1980s was the rise of a people-centric voice – a narrative that challenged the hegemony of the nation-state. In the last chapter, I showed the crucial role played by Habib Tanvir in establishing this voice through the discourse of Brechtian inf luence. In Tanvir’s hands, inf luence became an effective instrument for bringing unrepresented artistic forms of the people to the centre. It ensured that Tanvir could orchestrate the persistent tussle between the unheard political voice of the people and the hegemony of the nation-state to present the neglected state of the periphery. In this articulation, Tanvir further Indianised Brechtian theatre with his production of The Good Person of Szechwan (1978), marking the culmination of Brechtian aesthetics in India. By using Brechtian aesthetics to articulate India’s own poetics and politics, Tanvir punctuated the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre in India. However, this celebration of traditional Brechtian aesthetics and its capability to resist the ideological apparatus of the Indian nation-state was cut short by the economic and political crisis that followed in the wake of the Emergency (1975–77) including inf lation, “an explosion of wage demands, and a wave of strikes” (Schwarz 5). The emergence of global India with the country’s decision to open up its economy in July 19911 further undermined the ability of conventional Brechtian aesthetics to represent India. To address the new economic and political face of the country, two new forms of theatre emerged: new street theatre and post-Brechtian theatre. I argue that these two forms are yet two more important, somewhat related ways to analyse Indian theatre and its connection to Brecht. Rather than reading these two aesthetic constellations as fairly different theatrical landscapes untouched by the aesthetics of Brechtian theatre, this chapter challenges and expands the understanding of Brechtian theatre by performing a collective reading of them. With this consolidated reading, I argue that these landscapes of inf luence are the spaces where the identity of Brechtian aesthetics was deliberated, rethought, resettled and transformed. The new street theatre embodied a doctrinaire political agenda of the Left. Unlike content-based street theatre of the colonial era, it regarded poetics as essential to its politics, and therefore interacted with Brechtian aesthetics,

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which was the most established political aesthetics of the seventies in India. For example, Jana Natya Manch, one of the most popular street groups, which I analyse in this chapter, is “the cultural wing of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) or CPM” (Costa 123). But despite its reliance on conventional Brechtian aesthetics, the poetics of the new street theatre differed from it not only on account of its varied cultural politics but also because of its proximity with the audience. If the process of understanding new India began with the emergence of a new variant of street theatre, then it continued with the emergence of post-Brechtian aesthetics in proscenium theatre spaces. By post-Brechtian aesthetics, I refer to aesthetics constructed by directors like Amal Allana and Anuradha Kapur that value dialectical indeterminacy over dialectical determinacy of conventional Brechtian aesthetics. The dialectical indeterminacy of this new proscenium theatre made it different from the new street theatre that continued to rely on the dialectical structure of conventional Brechtian aesthetics. Despite their differences, these two new interventions – new street theatre and post-Brechtian theatre – remained tied to one another because they multiplied orthodox Brechtian practices across positionalities along several axes and destabilised the organised centre of conventional Brechtian aesthetics. Moreover, with this reading highlighting two parallel Brechtian formations, I reiterate my argument that there is no universal and essential construct of Brechtian theatre – that is, Brechtian theatre is a pharmakon. This means that there are many parallel Brechtian positions – as opposed to one absolute Brechtian position – and the hierarchical logic that one position is higher than the other will not work. Furthermore, I contend that these alternative formations are the “bends” of Brechtian theatre rather than structures signifying the “end” of Brechtian theatre. Here, my strategic use of the term “bend” to indicate this shift in the aesthetics of Brechtian theatre requires explanation. First, the word “bend” in this context denotes the “curve” that came in orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. In this sense, it draws our attention to an act of creation of forms that erupted out of old aesthetics. An analysis of these new aesthetic forms is important because they offer what Foucault calls “the space for a dispersion” in their deliberate act of moving away from “a single centre – a principle, a meaning, a spirit, a world-view, an overall shape” (Archaeology 11). Second, “bend” in my use also refers to the inward “historical” turn that came with these new forms, which articulated the socio-political conditions of India, and were no longer ahistorical. In this regard, the term “bend” acknowledges the nexus between politics and culture that played a crucial role in the construction of these two forms of political theatre. Bend, understood this way, is an instance of the self-acknowledging discourse of seeing Brechtian theatre through the social and historical lens of India. By transcending the limitations of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics, these bends enunciate the pharmakonic aspect of Brechtian theatre. Moreover, they project inf luence as a space of negotiation as the old variant of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics evolves into a new. These two bends further demonstrate how Brechtian theatre is a “worlding,” a mixture

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of ever-changing viewpoints and non-essentialist possibilities (Heidegger 155) articulating heterogeneous realities. By focusing on Brechtian theatre’s ability to voice heterogeneous realities, they stress its hybridity rather than its purity or absoluteness. Hybridity, here, subverts both the presence of a canonical narrative and “represents that ambivalent ‘turn’ of the discriminated subject into the terrifying, exorbitant object of paranoid classification – a disturbing questioning of the images and presences of authority” (Bhabha, The Location 162). Put differently, the presence of these two bends shows that inf luence is a site activating the emergence of the pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre. To demonstrate how inf luence manifests the pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre, in the first section of the chapter, I analyse the first “bend” of Brechtian theatre by examining Safdar Hashmi’s production of Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain (Don’t Blame the Powerful, 1980).2 Despite the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics, I show that Hashmi’s production overcame the limitation of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics by engaging more closely with the audience. My choice of this performance differs from my previous choices on two counts: first, unlike other productions I have analysed in this book, this production was not an adaptation of one of Brecht’s plays. Second, it was not an instance of theatre performed in a traditional venue but of a street performance. The reason behind this choice is related to the larger argument of my study where I define “Brechtian” not just as an invocation of Brecht’s works but as a whole gamut of self-ref lexive devices that draw our attention both to the “how” of an event – in opposition to the “what” – while offering interpretative agency to the audience. Because Hashmi’s production was self-ref lexive and succeeded in drawing the audience’s attention to this aspect of the production, it was an apt instance of what I define as Brechtian. Since street performance is not conventionally considered as an instance of Brechtian theatre, I begin by analysing how the poetics and politics of Brechtian theatre remain essential to this form. I extend Walter Benjamin’s discussion of the “literary technique” in Europe to the “dramatic technique” of Madari-Jamoora in the production to show this similarity. Although Benjamin engaged with literary techniques while Hashmi interacted with dramatic techniques, they resembled one another in their use of the technique to politically position the work in the service of the proletarian cause. Following this investigation of the dramatic technique of Madari-Jamoora (street magician-sidekick) based on Benjamin’s idea of literary technique, I further analyse the production to demonstrate how it transcended the limitations of conventional Brechtian aesthetics. The emergence of this new aesthetics, which partially resembled the poetics of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics but remained different in its political purpose, displayed a new constitution of Brechtian theatre in India and thus highlighted its pharmakonic nature. I argue that the production left behind conventional Brechtian aesthetics in its revolutionary engagement with the audience wherein Hashmi offered not only the interpretative agency to

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the audience, a device that is central to conventional Brechtian aesthetics, but also an authority over the theatre space and thus the power to create the world from their perspective. This authority was bestowed upon the audience through three dramaturgical acts: the act of breaking the fourth wall, the personification of everyday food items, and the use of metatheatre. First, I argue that the breaking of the fourth wall in the production offered a political space to the audience. Of course, there are instances in Brechtian theatre where Brecht merges diegetic with extra-diegetic reality, such as in The Caucasian Chalk Circle, The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui and The Good Person of Szechwan. But these spaces never provide complete freedom to the audience to physically break into the stage, rather their voices are articulated through the agency of the narrator or actor. Hashmi’s production erased the line that separated the audience from theatrical reality as he allowed his audience to break into the theatrical space (extra-diegetic as well as diegetic reality) and to take control of it. In other words, Hashmi not only articulated the overlapping of three realities – the audience, the narrator (extra- diegetic) and actors in the play (diegetic), which allowed him to show the self-ref lexive nature of his theatre – but he also demonstrated how his proletariat-audience member, Madari, took over the other two realities, an act that remained unrealised in Brechtian theatre. Second, I contend that by personifying items of everyday use, Hashmi drew the attention to the common people’s issue – that is, the hike in food prices – and show how this topic remained peripheral in the larger discourse of the people’s theatre in the 1980s. Third, I analyse how the production offered an audience-centric approach that remained beyond the reach of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics by using the device of metatheatre to create an alternative world of socialism. I argue that in Hashmi’s work, metatheatre was the site of the discourse of the people where hegemonic forces and characters such as the minister were recreated and reconfigured. Although the ability of metatheatre to create an alternative space of freedom has been widely explored in modernist dramatic works including Brecht’s, such as The Caucasian Chalk Circle, it remains under-analysed within the context of street theatre in India. Working with these three dramaturgical devices – the breaking of the fourth wall, the personification of everyday food items, and metatheatre – I demonstrate how the production’s engagement with the audience was far more intense and comprehensive than orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. Furthermore, I demonstrate how the street theatre of the eighties was more than a sum of conventional Brechtian aesthetics because of its divergent use of these dramaturgical devices to engage with the audience. Like Tanvir, Hashmi borrowed from traditional Indian theatre to become Brechtian. However, his contribution lies in the fact that he used these dramatic devices for the first time within the ambit of street theatre in India. The engagement of Hashmi’s production with Brechtian aesthetics politicised its poetics, thus changing the face of street theatre in India for good. This new aesthetics provided a new lease of life to both Brechtian

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theatre and the Indian street theatre of the 1940s and 1950s on account of this difference. The new theatre revised both conventional Brechtian theatre and the street theatre of the era, creating an aesthetics that could face the challenges of the new political and social environment. This new and divergent aesthetics highlighted the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. Following a probe into the first “bend” in Brechtian aesthetics, I analyse the second “bend” of Brechtian theatre – post-Brechtian theatre – by studying Amal Allana’s production of Himmat Mai (Mother Courage and her Children, 1993).3 This bend was significant in showing the imbrication of Brechtian aesthetics and post-Brechtian aesthetics in the post-globalisation economy of India and thus drew attention to the pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre. More significantly, this bend displayed the multiplicity of inf luences in the construction of Brechtian theatre in India and therefore defied any attempt to see Brechtian theatre in India as an absolute and pure manifestation of Brecht’s ideas. Allana’s production resisted the dialectical determinacy of conventional Brechtian aesthetics in its move towards the two established conventions of post-Brechtian theatre: “epistemological uncertainty” and the absence of “interpretive system” assuring political certainty (Barnett, “Toward a Definition” 337). I analyse the interpretation of post-Brechtian aesthetics in some detail shortly. Although, as in the West, challenges to epistemological and political certainty have become axioms of post-Brechtian aesthetics in India, what made Allana’s production distinct was her method of performing these axioms. First, I argue that Allana created epistemological uncertainty with her strategic use of stage design, which allowed her to present war as a ritual. Allana’s stage design conformed to Antonin Artaud’s idea of “theatre as ritual.” It should be underlined that this use of Artaudian aesthetics to produce Brecht was not without precedent as it was used by many directors and companies, such as Pina Bausch, Peter Brook [e.g., Marat/Sade (1967)], Peter Weiss, Heiner Müller and the Living Theatre.4 This recourse to Artaudian aesthetics was owing to the affinity between Brechtian and Artaudian aesthetics, as both privilege physical gestures over “the exclusive dictatorship of speech” (Artaud 40). The privileging of physicality over speech is also a characteristic feature of Oriental theatre, as noted by Artaud, and informed Allana’s production: Oriental theatre has been able to preserve a certain expansive value in words, since the defined sense of a word is not everything, for there is its music, which speaks directly to the unconscious. That is why in the Oriental theatre there is no spoken language, but a language of gestures, attitudes, and signs which from the point of view of thought in action have as much expansive and revelational value as the other. (118–119) This relation between Oriental, Brechtian and Artaudian theatre surely inspired Allana to espouse Artaud’s idea of ritual to create Brechtian theatre. This relationship becomes clearer in the light of stage designer Nissar Allana’s fascination with ritual. He explains the production’s engagement with ritual

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in his discussion of the stage design, which I discuss shortly. For Artaud, theatre is a whole collection of ritual gestures to which we do not have the key and which seem to obey extremely precise musical indications, with something more that does not generally belong to music and seems intended to encircle thought, to hound it down and lead it into an inextricable and certain system. (57) In the Artaudian sense, theatre as ritual is an incarnation of passion and emotion and thus must overwhelm all senses. Artaud’s meaning of ritual as an overwhelming secular experience differs from its religious counterpart, which welds the idea of ritual to gods. However, both interpretations are identical on one count. They see ritual as an act of creating “a controlled environment where the variables (i.e., the accidents) of ordinary life have been displaced precisely because they are felt to be so overwhelmingly present and powerful” (Smith 124–125). In both Artaudian and the religious sense, ritual is a timeless speculation, unaffected by historical variables. It is this controlled character of ritual that gives it the power to transform the audience, and which Artaud employed, using music and other dramaturgical devices. Like Artaud, Allana also relied on a set of dramaturgical devices to present Brecht’s 30-year war as a ritual. Allana challenged the Marxist interpretive system of Brecht by making the production more open-ended with her ingenious treatment of gender, casting a male actor (Manohar Singh) to play the role of Mother Courage. There is no doubt that Marxist theatre directors have problematised gender. However, what was unique about Allana’s treatment of gender was her ability to challenge hierarchy without relying on the Marxian creation of binaries between the sexes. I argue that this androgynous overlapping of both sexes challenges orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. By using post-Brechtian aesthetics to produce Brecht in India, Allana contributed to post-Brechtian scholarship. Despite its importance, no attempt has been made yet to theorise this use of postBrechtian aesthetics to produce Brecht’s plays. I discuss in the second section how Allana hinted at the revolutionary chasm at the heart of Brechtian aesthetics in the new globalised world of the 1990s and how a new aesthetics could be used to bridge it. I show that the new post-Brechtian aesthetics was central to portraying the new challenges of the new world as well as the solutions to these challenges, and thus giving a new lease of life to Brecht. As I argued in previous chapters, the history of Brechtian aesthetics is the history of discontinuity. It questions linear schemas and totalities associated with historicist thinking and challenges any attempts to naturalise one absolute idea of Brechtian theatre. This chapter is likewise situated within the larger history of ideas, offering a history of overlap and intersection in place of “the continuous chronology of reason, which was invariably traced back to some inaccessible origin” (Foucault, Archaeology 9). By pointing to the

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presence of two more theatrical forms – new street theatre and post-Brechtian theatre – that revise and rethink Brechtian theatre, the chapter emphasises the non-essential or pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre and simultaneously destabilises any attempts to offer an authoritative and authentic representation of it. Broadly, the chapter attempts to highlight two theatrical dramaturgies through which the subject position of orthodox Brechtian theatre was decentred. My intention is not to criticise orthodox Brechtian aesthetics but to highlight the alchemy of Brechtian theatre in India. Tellingly, these two discourses – the street theatre of the 80s and post-Brechtian theatre – challenged the relatively stable and conventional aesthetics of Brechtian theatre, and presented a critique of an essential identity of Brechtian theatre that remained divorced from the political and social contexts of India. Having explained the relationship between post-Brechtian and orthodox Brechtian aesthetics, in the next section, I analyse the first bend of Brechtian theatre – that is, the new street theatre of postcolonial India.

The bend of new street theatre Historian Gyan Prakash 5 calls Doga, an Indian comic book superhero who protects Mumbai, the “avenger on the street.” I thereby propose that Safdar Hashmi’s theatre group, Jana Natya Manch, is Delhi’s nemesis on the street. Unlike Doga, who partakes in violent measures to annihilate his enemies, the non-violent but revolutionary plays of Delhi-based theatre group Jana Natya Manch, which often invoke Brechtian aesthetics, both “agitate” and “mobilise” people in fighting against capitalist organisations and corrupt ministers. I have borrowed both words – “agitate” and “mobilise” – from Safdar Hashmi. For Hashmi, street theatre “is basically a militant political theatre of protest. Its function is to agitate the people and to mobilise them behind fighting organisations” (“The Right” 32). In its asymmetric struggle against the Indian State and capitalist organisations, Jana Natya Manch (henceforth Janam) has employed nukkad natak (street theatre)6 as its strategy of resistance. I examine this construct of nukkad natak to highlight how it borrowed and reinvented traditional Brechtian aesthetics. By revising rather than disavowing orthodox Brechtian aesthetics to create its theatre, Janam showcased the hybridity of Brechtian theatre. This further establishes inf luence as a site of appropriation, challenging the canonicity and absoluteness of Brechtian theatre in Europe. Moreover, by reshaping orthodox Brechtian aesthetics, Janam highlighted the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. I begin by outlining the history of two established constructs of street theatre in India – street theatre of the 40s and 50s, known as poster plays, and street theatre of the 80s – followed by my analysis of their aesthetics. I argue that street plays of the 80s in India were at variance with the poster plays of the 40s and 50s in regard to their espousal of Brechtian “technique,” a device that, according to Walter Benjamin, has remained integral to Brechtian theatre in

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Europe. After introducing Benjamin’s concept of “literary technique,” I analyse one such technique, Madari-Jamoora (street magician-sidekick), to show the resemblance between Brechtian aesthetics and the Indian street theatre of the 80s. I argue that despite its resemblance to Brecht’s use of literary technique, the dramatic technique of Madari-Jamoora rethought and revised conventional Brechtian aesthetics. My choice of this device is based on its long history of theatrical presence and its appropriateness as a model for comparison with Brechtian aesthetics. The device is known to be central to traditional Indian theatre and continues to be a good example of a theatrical idiom of postcolonial Indian theatre. In postcolonial India, it likely found its first articulation in Tanvir’s Agra Bazaar, as I showed in Chapter 2. I begin by outlining the history of Hashmi’s troupe, Janam, followed by my analysis of the device and its political use in the production. The rise of Janam into a political theatre group can be divided into two stages. First, Janam began as a proscenium group in 1973 but switched to experiments with street theatre in 1978. They adopted “bare” and “open” 7 space in the dirt-filled streets of Delhi and adjoining states over the superimposed image of theatre as a performance space encompassing artificial red curtains, proscenium and elegant formal dresses, which helped the group in fighting against the power of the state over performance spaces and established Janam as the voice of the street, where street is a metonymy for the working class. In the second stage, Janam distanced itself from the street theatre of the 40s and 50s, what Hashmi considered poster plays. The characteristic feature of poster plays is to dictate political statements coarsely to the masses without any thoughtful engagement with aesthetics. Govind Deshpande, an Indian playwright, believes that the poster play has only one agenda, that is, “it hits you with the message; everything else is secondary” (108). This message-based approach denies “the complexity of reality” (108). Since the poster plays or street theatre of the fifties “satisf[ied] neither the people’s need for a fuller theatre, nor the actors’ and directors’ craving for more challenging and stimulating material” (Hashmi, “The Right” 32), there was a need to create a “fully developed people’s theatre, a theatre which is available to the masses” (“The Right” 32). Brecht himself recommended the epic theatre with “technological level” when he writes that “[i]t demands not only a certain technological level but a powerful movement in society that is interested in seeing vital questions freely aired with a view to their solution, and can defend this interest against every opposing tendency” (“Theatre for Pleasure” 116). I argue that street theatre of the eighties accomplished this fuller form or what Brecht calls a “technological level” by engaging with “literary devices” in India that were a sole preserve of either classical Sanskrit theatre or Indian folk theatre. I draw upon Benjamin’s concept of literary devices and how in their democratised form they were employed in the service of political transformation.

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Benjamin proposed his concept of literary technique against the nineteenth- century idea of art for art’s sake, which gave aesthetic autonomy to art and separated it from the socio-political world of the common people. According to Benjamin, authors are producers if they are no more “the mind,” a metaphor for a creative individual who creates non-practical art, but articulate the practical utility of art by using it in the service of the proletariat – that is, the author should understand “his own position within the production process” (“Author as Producer” 103). The choice of literary technique is central to this transformation of the author from a creative mind to producer as it allows the author to articulate his “tendency” or commitment to the proletariat. As the choice of literary technique determines the progressive nature of a work, Benjamin argues that this choice of literary technique should be carried out by reading the technique’s position within the “literary production relation of its time” (“Author as Producer” 87). This means that the author must compare his use of the technique with previous instances and should show that his use differs from past uses in its service to the proletariat. In other words, it is not only the literary tendency or commitment of the author to a political cause but also his ability to progressively use a literary technique that determines his status as producer. Benjamin illustrates his idea of technique through the trope of montage by explaining that, for Brecht, it “brings the action to a standstill” and thus compels “the spectator to take up a position towards the action,” and “the actor to take up a position towards his part” (“Author as Producer” 100). With this example, Benjamin shows how Brecht broke away from romantic notions of aesthetic autonomy of the nineteenth century to use art in service of political transformation. Brecht’s experiment with montage makes him a producer because he politicises montage in comparison to past uses. Brecht’s deployment of montage also democratises art by raising the spectators to the level of collaborators as the bourgeois distinction between author and reader is erased. Technique is thus “the concept which makes literary products accessible to immediate social, and therefore materialist, analysis” (“Author as Producer” 87). In this sense, literary technique can be considered as one of the components of traditional Brechtian aesthetics. Although Benjamin proposed his concept of the author as producer within the context of literary technique in Europe, it can be extended to Hashmi’s use of the dramatic device of Madari-Jamoora in India since, like Brecht, Hashmi’s group, Janam, democratised and revolutionalised art. Specifically, Hashmi’s choice of the dramatic device of Madari-Jamoora resembled Benjamin’s concept of literary technique, with Hashmi using the depoliticised device of the Madari-Jamoora in service of the proletariat. In other words, in its urge to situate the dramatic device “within the literary production relation of its time,” the politics of Indian street theatre of the eighties is congruent with both Benjamin’s concept of art and traditional Brechtian  aesthetics. I  argue that the aesthetics of postcolonial Indian street theatre could be termed Brechtian

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since it utilised theatrical devices, which were once restricted to traditional Indian theatre with roots in the people, to democratise and revolutionise art. Madari refers to a male juggler or street magician accompanied by an assistant, known as Jamoora, who executes the will of the Madari. I begin by brief ly situating the dramatic device of Madari-Jamoora within the literary production relation of Hashmi’s time and before it. Through this analysis, I demonstrate that unlike its previous non-practical uses, the dramatic device of Madari-Jamoora was used by Hashmi in service of the proletariat. There is no definite documented history of the device; however, two known sources could have contributed to its origin. The device of “dhurta” (rogue) and “vita” (parasite/rake) is used in one form of classical Sanskrit drama called the Bhana,8 which refers to a one-act satirical play with characters of dhurta and vita.9 The characters in this form of drama are very similar to the Madari-Jamoora of the street play, with the dhurta/vita in the Bhana acting “by means of replies in course of Conversations with Imaginary Persons (akasa-bhasita) in accompaniment of [suitable] movement of the limbs” (Bharata 373). The second device that resembles the modern-day device of Madari-Jamoora is “bighla-ranga” used in one form of folk play called the Bhand. Although bhand performance is widely diverse, its basic structure has two characteristic features. First, a pair of performers called the bighla (colourless) and the ranga (colourful) “engages in a snappy comic dialogue” (Pamment 346). Second, “the bighla teases out a joke, which the ranga fulfills in witty rebuttal – a dialogic mode known as saval javab (question-answer)” (346). Irrespective of its previous usages, the technique of Madari-Jamoora lost its political sting in modern India. It evolved into a neutral form far removed from its origins as a satire lampooning human activities. Furthermore, in its modern-day avatar it became associated with monkey/bear shows, where Jamoora was the monkey/bear and Madari was the owner of the animal. One can see that this modern interpretation in the context of animal shows was bereft of any political bite. This non-political usage of the term would have been known to Hashmi. In the paragraphs to follow, I argue that Hashmi repoliticised the device of Madari-Jamoora by turning it into an active instrument of political resistance. Before I highlight the Brechtian character of Hashmi’s production with a demonstration of the device during the March 1980 performance in Delhi, I first brief ly explain some background on the plot especially seeing as it was not an adaptation of Brecht’s play. Hashmi’s production, Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain, registered a protest against the hike in prices of food grains. Elaborating on the corruption embedded in the Indian system, the performance satirised Lalas (businessmen) and Netas (ministers) by presenting them as the physical manifestations of bribery, corruption, and the reasons behind the hike. To critique the price hike, Hashmi created the characters of Madari (the magician) and Jamoora (the magician’s sidekick), performed as audience members who broke into the theatre space and captured it from the two

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actors on the stage. The production was presented as impromptu, with the original actors banished and the ensuing performance the brainchild of an audience-member, Madari. It is clear from this brief plot summary that Madari was central to the production since his magic was used to critique the anti-people politics of the government. Madari’s calculated use of magic also transformed it into a snapshot of Brechtian theatre. Magic in the hands of the Madari expressed the people’s dissatisfaction with earthly existence as skyrocketing prices made it impossible to go on living. In this sense, magic served as a critique of the Indian nation-state, which failed to provide basic necessities to its citizens such as food grains. The deployment of magic allowed the performance to be a study in dialectics, as I discuss soon.10 Dialectics presents the hidden truth, mostly non-conformist, through contradiction. With this use of dialectical contradiction, Hashmi negated the total truth or harmony of the given narrative of the minister in the performance. This dialectical contradiction was visible in the speech of the bewitched minister after the Madari bewitches him to tell the truth using an ancient spell called “Satyavachi Vashikaran” (truth spell). To emphasise the dialectical contradiction, Hashmi placed this narration adjacent to the speech where the minister lies about his true intent in becoming a minister by claiming that he was motivated to take care of the people. Once bewitched, the minister speaks out his real intent: “Brothers, sisters, I don’t care a fig about you. I wanted to grab the chair of the minister and I have got it. If you think that I will force the businessman to give up his hoarded grains and distribute them among you on subsided rates then you are utter fools” ( Jana Natya Manch 43).11 In their entirety, these two speeches highlighted the truth of the minister’s narrative and showed how his character was a bundle of contradictions. Looking at this instance of the minister, one can see how dialectics helped Hashmi in staging change, offering a comprehensive view of the minister’s personality. The minister was first shown to be a friend of the people. Once under the spell, his anti-people side emerged. This exercise in revealing the true personality of the minister was also a study in contradictions, and the role of Madari’s magic in highlighting these contradictions was crucial. Magic, here, stood for the people’s power or activism against the hegemonic discourse of the minister. By using it to force the minister to present his inverted, anti-people narrative, Hashmi thus showed audiences a world where change was possible. Magic, intrinsic to the device of Madari-Jamoora, also allowed Hashmi to alienate the audience through what I call the confessional song12 of Bora, or jute sack. Although literally bora means sack, the meaning was extended in Hashmi’s performance to refer to what the sack contained. Here, in the performance, bora primarily held grains that were hoarded by the Lala, or trader, so that its shortage in the market allowed the businessmen to hike its price. By letting the Bora speak about its own plight, Hashmi replaced

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the descriptive mode employed in the poster plays with the narrative mode. This shift was significant because it made visible the inner contradiction of the narrative: One day the trader bought me And scoundrel, fettered me in the godown Now I am out I have only one desire To remain free from the clutches of money I am the child of labour and I am the result of labour I can f lourish only among the working people. ( Jana Natya Manch 32) In this confessional song, Bora narrated the social history of post-independence India, where farmers continued to be victimised by Lalas. Since the song of Bora was not of a person, but a sack, it functioned like Brecht’s Verfremdungseffekt. It forced the audience to pay heed to the representation and simultaneously provided political commentary. The song aimed to turn the audience from passive observers into active participants by making them think dialectically. The shift from descriptive to narrative voice is further apparent if we read Hashmi’s use of Bora alongside the Greek device of parabasis – a direct address to the audience by the chorus. Significantly, this use resembles Brecht’s use of the device of parabasis. Discussing the role of the Greek chorus, Swift writes that “[t]he chorus is regarded as the natural medium to educate citizens, and to pass on the values of the community” (1). Bora’s articulation resembled the chorus as it educated the citizens of India by voicing what remained unarticulated in the real world of hegemonic discourse – that is, the voice of the marginalised. It is evident from this analysis that Hashmi’s use of the dramatic technique of Madari-Jamoora resembled Brecht’s use of literary technique in Brechtian theatre. Both Brecht and Hashmi politicised the depoliticised techniques that they encountered and used them to promote the proletariat’s cause and voice. Although the revival of Madari-Jamoora was in keeping with Benjamin’s call for politicisation of literary devices and undeniably resembled Brecht’s dialectical theatre, it transcended any restriction imposed upon it by conventional Brechtian aesthetics. Though different, the new aesthetics continued to be Brechtian since the idea of Brecht’s dialectical theatre remained at its heart. In this regard, the new aesthetics did not disavow Brechtian aesthetics, but revised it. This act of revision highlighted not only the continued commitment of Brechtian aesthetics to the changing politics of post-globalisation India but also its pharmakonic nature. I analyse three dramaturgical instances in the production – Madari’s act of breaking the fourth wall, the personification of everyday food items, and the use of metatheatre – to argue that they helped in transcending the limitations of traditional Brechtian aesthetics. I begin my investigation into new street theatre’s challenge to conventional Brechtian aesthetics by analysing Madari’s breaking of the fourth wall, which

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presented a unique act of offering a political space to the audience and therefore differed from past instances of breaking the wall. The production ensured that the Madari must emerge “through the audience” ( Jana Natya Manch 24) – that is, his entry into the theatrical space was portrayed as an act of breaking the fourth wall. In other words, Hashmi highlighted Madari’s connection with the audience by making him emerge through them. This situates Hashmi’s theatre between Brecht’s and Boal’s theatre. Madari’s activity was distinct from the two established conventions for breaking the fourth wall, although it may have looked similar. The first convention is of breaking the fourth wall from within, which has two variations that are both present in Brechtian theatre: when the actor on stage breaks it to engage with the audience – that is, when the diegetic reality engages with the reality of the audience – and when the extra-diegetic reality of the narrator converses either with the diegetic reality of the actor or of the audience. The second convention of breaking the fourth wall is when it is broken from outside, as an audience member enters into the theatrical space. In modern times, this act has become synonymous with Boal’s Forum theatre. Unlike Brecht, Boal’s system is more revolutionary especially in its activation of the audience. To turn the audience from passive to active, Boal’s narrator, whom he calls as Joker, stands outside the dramatic structure of the play – he is not a part of the storyline but stands at a remove to offer a chance to the audience to play any character that will solve social problems. In the words of Boal, “[t]he Joker is a man of our time and does not belong to the universe of the play, but to the universe of the audience” (Boal, “The Joker System” 93). Furthermore, Boal’s Joker explains and articulates “the point of view” of the characters “presenting the play” (“The Joker System” 93) and thus provides an opportunity to the audience to defy the limited vision of the characters. With the help of Boal’s Joker, one or more audience members break into the theatre scape and play the role of an actor. Boal calls these spectators as “spect-actors” since they play both the parts: By taking possession of the stage, the Spect-Actor is consciously performing a responsible act. The stage is a representation of the reality, a fiction. But the Spect-Actor is not fictional. He exists in the scene and outside of it, in a dual reality. By taking possession of the stage in the fiction of the theatre he acts: not just in the fiction, but also in his social reality. By transforming fiction, he is transformed into himself. (Theatre of the Oppressed xxi) Although Hashmi’s Madari, like Boal’s “spect-actor,” broke the fourth wall from outside, there was at least one difference: Boal’s “spect-actor” changes only a part of the narrative of the original play. Hashmi’s Madari, a pre-cast actor, placed in the audience, changed the entire play by stopping the original actors from performing their production. Therefore, Boal’s act of breaking the fourth wall offered limited freedom to the audience to articulate their

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discourse while the Madari’s act was more liberal as one of the audience members was allowed to gain control of the theatre space, giving complete authority to the audience. Hashmi left no doubt about the effect of this act, which he reasserted through the content of the play. The performance opened with two actors calling upon the audience to come and see their play, and in the meanwhile, the Madari entered the space forcing one of the actors to say: “[w]hat nonsense is this? Why this Madari has to come now? Get lost, Madari! We are about to do a play” ( Jana Natya Manch 24). This act of breaking the wall was not stemmed from truth-seeking or in dictating morals, as one expects from traditional street theatre, but in giving complete freedom to the audience by collapsing the wall that separated the world of the audience and theatre. By situating the Madari first in the outside world of the audience and second in the world of the actors, Hashmi expanded the spectrum of theatre by collapsing theatre’s dependence on physical location. Madari’s act of breaking the fourth wall established that there is no separation between theatrical space and the world of the audience. In the new world of the Madari, the theatrical space was all-encompassing or what Peter Handke refers to thus: the theatre is not “portraying the world” but the world has become a “copy of the theatre” (10). Hashmi’s street theatre, in this instance, was not just a platform for critiquing society, but the beginning of a new society: similarly, it did not strive to mimic life, but focused on various theatrical strategies that create and protect life. By remaining unequivocal about his people-centric politics and the power of theatre to change the world, Hashmi’s Madari turned conventional Brechtian theatre into a less revolutionary and pale equivalent. The difference between orthodox Brechtian aesthetics and Hashmi’s variant highlighted the uniqueness of Brechtian theatre in India and articulated its pharmakonic identity. If the project of granting more freedom to the audience began with Madari gaining control of the theatre space, then it continued with the production reclaiming theatre’s content by focusing on proletarian issues. Hashmi’s theatre engaged with these issues aesthetically to bring out their complex politics rather than dispensing them to the audience as crude messages, as seen in the case of traditional street theatre. The device of personification also enhanced the aesthetic function of street theatre and developed the street play into a “full-f ledged art form” (Hashmi, “The Right” 32). I argue that the personification of everyday food items was an act of reclaiming the content and topics of street theatre by freeing them from subjects such as love, parting and death that remained central to bourgeois theatre. By personifying food items, Hashmi ensured that they were at the centre of discussion. Not only did this act highlight the socio-political conditions of India but it also registered a protest against bourgeois theatre, which in its engagement with life and death themes tended to deprecate subjects that challenged the status quo. It also demonstrated how orthodox Brechtian aesthetics were revolutionised: Hashmi debunked the past conventions of not engaging with so-called minor subjects such as food items by clothing

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Madari in a sack “with ‘Ata, Chawal, Noon’ [Wheat, Rice, Salt] written in front and ‘Ghee, Tel, Parchun’ [Ghee, Oil, Grocery] written at the back” ( Jana Natya Manch 24). This allowed the food items to articulate their side of the story through the medium of the Madari. By offering this power to food items, Hashmi reclaimed the discourse of theatre from the bourgeoisie, who avoided subjects having any relevance to common people. By demonstrating theatrical reality’s ability to engage with marginal themes that were important to the proletariat, Hashmi showed its power over the real world, where these themes still remained under the control of the bourgeoisie. While this theatre did not mirror social life, it created an alternative space where life was re-articulated at grass-roots levels including the realities of the exploited and the subaltern. Contrary to this proposition of the new theatre, Brechtian theatre can construct only “hypotheses, proto-theses of new modes of thought; as a play, it cannot directly and unequivocally demonstrate the thesis itself, the new mode of thought which points to the solution” (Handke 10). This does not mean that the revolutionary stand of Hashmi’s street theatre rejected the fundamental contradictions implicit in Brechtian aesthetics; rather, it formulated an alternative site that contested the hegemony of dominant models within real life by articulating marginalised versions. By transforming passive objects of everyday use into active participants through the process of personification, Hashmi’s variant of street theatre “theatricalize[d] real life by ‘terrorising’ it”… [and made] it recognizable in all its inherent dangerousness” (to borrow Handke’s definition of street theatre 9). The street theatre of the 80s thus rejuvenated and celebrated marginalised models of life and, in this regard, alienated and opposed privileged narratives. By stressing issues such as food, which remained uniquely central to the lives of the proletarians in India, Hashmi’s theatre emphasised the different agenda of Brechtian theatre in India and underlined its pharmakonic character. Contrary to their use in the West, Hashmi showed Brechtian aesthetics as a protest against corrupt ministers who denied everyday necessities to the people. By presenting this agenda in a much more audience-friendly way, Hashmi simultaneously revolutionised orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. The production further offered power to the audience through the use of the meta-theatrical device of mise-en-abyme. By using the Brechtian device of metatheatre to highlight a condition that was unique to India, Hashmi’s work further foregrounded the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre there. By using metatheatre in a way that was specific to India, Hashmi demonstrated how the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics on Indian theatre is a history of non-conformity, with Brechtian devices used for purposes different from the West. The distinctiveness of the Indian use of Brechtian aesthetics is unique to Brechtian theatre in India and resists any attempt to see the Indian variant as subservient to the European variant. Hashmi’s Madari used “Satyavachi Vashikaran,” or the truth spell, to create an alternative “truth” space for the corrupt minister. Brecht employed meta-theatrical spaces in his dramatic works, such as The Threepenny Opera and The Caucasian Chalk Circle,

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to offer an anti-mimetic space of critical inquiry and to activate the audience, but Hashmi here departed from Brecht. I examine this difference against Mary Witt’s proposition that “it is perhaps time to stop asking the question of what metatheatre (along with metatheatricality and the metatheatrical) is and ask rather what it does” (italics in the original 9), and argue that Hashmi transcended Brecht’s limitations by using metatheatre to create a “changed” world highlighting socialist values. Hashmi’s new world offered more space to the audience, whereas Brecht’s metatheatrical spaces are critical thinking spaces to investigate the functioning of the existing world. These spaces are educational, that is, they exist to educate the audiences both in the diegetic and extradiegetic structure of the play. I brief ly pause to demonstrate and clarify how this aspect of metatheatre manifested in Brecht by revisiting the production of The Threepenny Opera. One of the most revolutionary instances of metatheatrical space as a critical thinking space was in the marriage scene, where Polly gives insight to Macheath’s bandits into the functioning of the real world through the Pirate Jenny’s song, which “is an imitation of a girl I [Polly] saw once in some twopenny-halfpenny dive in Soho” (Threepenny 19). The song illustrated to the audience situated in the diegetic space of the play – Macheath’s bandits – how Jenny took revenge on the capitalist class, who laughed at her while she washed the glasses, by bombing them. Polly’s act of role-playing turned this scene into an objective site of discussion as she underlined the discrimination faced by proletarians like Jenny in the world. Of course, while the metaphor of bombing or explosion suggested to the audience that they too must break free from the fetters of oppression, the production failed to create a new world as the audience remained constrained to the functioning of the existing capitalist world. There is no doubt that these spaces are educational, with Brecht using the production to deconstruct the existing system to which they all still remained restricted. In its ability to show the existing world objectively, the metatheatrical space in The Threepenny Opera resembled Brecht’s Lehrstücke. Like the learning plays, which were created by Brecht to train actors in the art of objectively showing dialectical contradiction to audiences, these spaces with an objective presentation of dialectical contradictions trained the audiences, within the diegetic space of the production, to read these contradictions. Contrary to Brecht, Hashmi’s metatheatrical space transcended the limitations of the existing world and gave insights into the functioning of the new world, where the proletarians were in power. This means that unlike Brecht’s use of the device to debunk existing superstructures such as religion and judiciary, as in the case of The Threepenny Opera, Hashmi’s metatheatre created a new world. In accordance with the Marxist belief that the ideology creating societal relations must be changed. In this new world, created with the help of a spell, the status quo was destabilised as the minister lost his political power and the Madari, the representative of the people, became omnipotent. The minister under the spell of the Madari revealed his real intention

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behind becoming a minister – that is, he became a minister for himself and not for the welfare of the people. Hashmi’s metatheatrical space constructed a democratised space where the tug of war between the powerful and the marginalised was physically and visibly played out. In other words, the theatrical reality overpowered everyday hegemonic political reality, represented through the figure of the minister, and the audiences were invited to be a part of the new world. This new reality was an articulation of the people’s perspective. Moreover, this new world was completely audience-oriented, created when one of the audience members, Madari, subjugates the hegemonic narrative of the minister through his spell. This means that, unlike Brecht, metatheatre here involved not only audiences of diegetic and extra-diegetic space but also the real audiences, like Madari, who come and celebrate the triumph of the proletariat over the bourgeois narrative of the minister. The metatheatrical world of Hashmi presented a new world where the project of Brechtian theatre to deconstruct existing systems of power has already been realised, as we saw with the fall of the minister and the rise of the proletariat. Hashmi’s conscious turn to the dramatic device of Madari-Jamoora, which resembled Brecht’s bend to what Benjamin calls “literary technique,” transformed Indian street theatre on two levels. First, this technique allowed street theatre in India to grow from poster plays to a fully grown art form. Second, it allowed Hashmi to democratise aesthetic material and use it in the service of political transformation. By bringing the literary technique of MadariJamoora from past performance practices to post-independence India, like Brecht, Hashmi made it socially and politically relevant. Despite this resemblance between Brechtian aesthetics and Hashmi’s street theatre on the level of the “technique,” Hashmi’s theatre redefined conventional Brechtian aesthetics in its attempt to offer more power to the audience and opened another pathway for Brechtian aesthetics in India. This authority was strategically bestowed upon the audience through a series of dramaturgical acts: the act of breaking the fourth wall, the personification of everyday food items, and the use of metatheatre. The emergence of the new street theatre, which replicated conventional Brechtian aesthetics, accentuated the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. Street and proscenium theatre differ in their treatment of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. Having analysed how the street theatre of the eighties both used and revised Brechtian aesthetics for purposes unique to India, I turn now to examine the resistance against traditional Brechtian aesthetics within the ambit of proscenium space. Against the backdrop of Allana’s proscenium theatre, I explore the evolution of conventional Brechtian aesthetics into a new aesthetics, post-Brechtian aesthetics.

The bend of post-Brechtian aesthetics In this section, I further map the evolution of Brechtian theatre while analysing the post-Brechtian aesthetics of Allana’s production of Mother Courage

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and Her Children. By showing the difference between the new aesthetics and orthodox Brechtian aesthetics in terms of both poetics and uses, I highlight the pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre. Moreover, by demonstrating how the performance interwove Artaudian aesthetics with orthodox Brechtian aesthetics, I emphasise my argument that inf luence is a site displaying plurality rather than a pre-dominance of one authentic and authoritative voice. This means that Brechtian theatre in India is more than the result of one authoritative essence but a celebration of diversity and multiplicity. Before I explore the production and show its diversity, I outline the idea of a post-Brechtian aesthetics. The Brecht-Lukács debate is central to the politics of post-Brechtian aesthetics. Unlike Lukács, Brecht not only defended the aesthetics of James Joyce, Franz Kaf ka and Alfred Dӧblin but also wanted future playwrights to learn something from their stylistic techniques so that class struggle could be presented on stage.13 For Brecht, the worth of a work was measured on the basis of its ability to show the dialectical contradiction between the forces of production and the relations of production to the audience, and since the works of Joyce and Dӧblin displayed this contradiction, they remained acceptable. Brecht asserts that “[t]o a certain extent, productive forces are represented in these works,” through a strategic use of “highly developed technical devices” (Brecht on Art and Politics 252). He continues that socialist writers must learn from these writers since “[m]any models are needed” to challenge the capitalist world (Brecht on Art and Politics 252). This suggestion paved the way for post-Brechtian aesthetics. Brecht encouraged socialist writers to experiment with new styles to stage dialectical contradictions. In order to show how these styles could be used in service of the proletariat, Brecht himself explored the possibilities of the modernist device of montage. Not only did Brecht hint at the stylistic brilliance of modernist writers but in experimenting with montage opened up a path for future directors to embrace new styles. Although initially they remained limited to modernist styles, the advent of postmodernism broadened the spectrum and allowed practitioners of Brecht to incorporate postmodernist styles. These devices highlight dialectical contradictions and differed from the old in their “incredulity toward metanarratives” (Lyotard xxiv). This means that unlike modernist styles, which pronounced the alliance between Brechtian aesthetics and socialist ideology, new devices challenged the two metanarratives of Brechtian theatre: epistemological certainty and socialism. Discussing this shift, Barnett identifies five symptomatic theses of the new aesthetics of post-Brechtian theatre: epistemological uncertainty, continued commitment to dialectics, continued engagement with the act of showing, resistance to the interpretative system of Brecht, that is, socialism, and the shift from interpretation to association (“Toward a Definition” 337). Barnett’s characterisation confirms my initial argument that there are only two differences between Brechtian theatre and post-Brechtian theatre: epistemological uncertainty and resistance to the interpretative system of socialism. After highlighting the differences between

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the two aesthetics, Barnett explains the effect of this change – that is, the new aesthetics shifted from interpretation to association. He reiterates that both aesthetics share a commitment to dialectics and the act of showing, highlighting the fact that the new aesthetics is an extension of Brechtian aesthetics rather than a separate aesthetic formulation. Having discussed the theses of post-Brechtian aesthetics, I analyse Allana’s production to show how these two differences manifested in her performance, turning her theatre into an early instance of post-Brechtian theatre in India. It is important to explore the emergence of post-Brechtian aesthetics in Allana’s production to demonstrate how inf luence is a site of appropriation as Brechtian aesthetics was reworked to fit the specific needs of the Indian audiences. Moreover, the emergence of post-Brechtian aesthetics shows that Brechtian theatre in India did not emerge solely from Brechtian aesthetics but under inf luence of multiple aesthetics. Brechtian theatre in India is not an isolated site, rather, it works as a palimpsest, engaging with outside inf luences. It is these intertextual inf luences in post-Brechtian theatre that subvert any absolute and essential core and highlight the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. Epistemological uncertainty in Allana’s production was the result of a ritualised rendering of Brechtian aesthetics. Stage designer Nissar Allana, in conversation with director Amal Allana (also his wife) reveals the production’s connection with ritual when he argues that to see the difference between illusion and reality, we have to suspend reality so that the audience can “get back to it with a sense of history and perspective” (Allana, “Production Notes” 84). He further notes that Brecht used this device in a “direct” context while in contrast to Brecht, he plans to use it with “ritual, with cultures of the world” (Allana, “Production Notes” 84). Nissar Allana’s comment clarifies that the production’s project to suspend reality using ritual was not “direct” like Brecht’s. Unlike in Brecht, where suspension of reality was always tied to the project of Marxism – that is, to highlight the connection between forces and relations of production – the production suspended reality to question the universal predicament of the human condition: the nature of war, death and peace. The rise and fall of Mother Courage after each tragic incident that led to the loss of one of her children was presented like the cyclical and reiterative pattern of a ritual. Nissar Allana’s shift to a ritualistic framework in this production is reminiscent of Heiner Müller’s production of Die Mauser, which Nissar called a brilliant instance of a shift from “narrative to ritual” (Allana, “Brecht & Heiner Müller” 59). Not only did this ritualised rendering of Brecht’s Mother Courage and her Children create dialectical indeterminacy by deferring the formation of meaning, it also brought the production closer to Artaud’s idea of ritual, a symbol of “fiery purification” (49). In this ritualised manifestation, Brechtian aesthetics merged with Artaudian aesthetics to challenge the Western theatrical tradition “of the verbalized drama and aimed at reanimating theatre by utilizing physical and gestural representational strategies, which could show

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the individual as the product of social and power relations” (Koutsourakis 38). Allana’s production challenged the “political certainty” that remained a characteristic feature of Brechtian theatre, given its relation to the metanarrative of Marxism. This means that the new aesthetics differed from conventional Brechtian aesthetics on the grounds of “ideological gaze” (Müller and Weigel, cited in Barnett, “Towards a Definition” 344), though its proximity with dialectics continued. Theorising this aspect of new, post-Brechtian aesthetics, Barnett associated it with the openness that came in the absence of any interpretative system (“Toward a Definition” 346). To put it differently, although the new aesthetics allowed the clash between thesis and antithesis, it did not offer synthesis, thus making the clash perennial and resulting in ideological ambivalence. In tandem with Barnett’s theorisation, Allana’s production went beyond the interpretative narrowness of Brechtian theatre in its portrayal of Mother Courage. I analyse the character of Mother Courage to show the ambivalent ideological nature of the production as Allana cast a male actor, Manohar Singh, to play her, a feat that remained untried in Brecht’s original production. In this sense, the new mode of representation re-evaluated and reworked the ideological vision of Brechtian theatre by banishing political certainty through open-endedness. Allana’s production is striking in how it accomplished epistemological uncertainty and the resistance against Brecht’s interpretative system, using methods that stood in stark contrast to Western directors. Brecht presented the horror of war as “an aggregate of business deals” rather than “a timeless abstraction” (Brecht, Brecht on Performance 190) in his production that opened in Berlin on 11 January 1949.14 The war was portrayed with the purpose to awaken the proletariats: “which of course is only possible if the play is performed in the right way – into the relationship between war and commerce: as a class, the proletariat can do away with war by doing away with capitalism” (Brecht, Brecht on Performance 221). Contrary to Brecht’s portrayal, Allana presented the horror of war as a ritual that cleansed and purified in her production, which took place 14–16 February 1993 under the banner of the company the Theatre and Television Associates. It was the ritualised aspect of the production that was responsible for generating epistemological uncertainty and in turn a move towards post-Brechtian aesthetics. In this portrayal of war as ritual, the Indian production articulated Artaud’s idea of theatre as suffering that can cleanse: “[i]n the theater as in the plague there is a kind of strange sun, a light of abnormal intensity by which it seems that the difficult and even the impossible suddenly become our normal element” (Artaud 30). Like the plague, “the theater has been created to drain abscesses [both moral and social] collectively” (31). To drain the abscesses of the audience, Artaud’s theatre inclined more to gesture, sound, decor and symbolism than to language. In its focus on the physical objects of the stage, Artaud’s theatre redefined the poetics of resistance against bourgeois theatre. Discussing the centrality of suffering in Artaud’s theatre, Susan Sontag writes that “what he bequeathed was not achieved works of art but a singular

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presence, a poetics, an aesthetics of thought, a theology of culture, and a phenomenology of suffering” (17). Like Artaud’s theatre, Allana’s production presented the psychic anguish of Mother Courage as she confronted the horror of war. For Allana, the agonised subject of Courage was powerful enough to drain the moral and social abscesses of the audiences. To accomplish this task, Allana articulated the horror of war as ritual using the stage design and allusions to historical and intertextual sources. The ritualised texture of the production first became evident from the visual appearance of the set, which was in the form of “an undefinable dreamscape” (Allana, “Director’s Note” 70), in contrast to Brecht’s production, which never fully renounced naturalistic illusionism. In his note on “the Couragemodell,” Brecht mentions that the production used a permanent framework of huge screens, made out of such materials as one would expect to find in the military encampments of the seventeenth century: tenting, wooden posts lashed together with ropes, etc. Buildings such as the parsonage and the peasants’ house were produced in three dimensions, realistic both in terms of construction methods and material, but in artistic abbreviation, only showing so much as was necessary for the action. (Brecht, Brecht on Performance 185) This means that Brecht’s theatre space had “no grotesque, no expressionist distortion, and no ‘unit set’ quality” ( Jones 98). Allana’s dreamscape with rocks and stone pillars resisted any immediate connection with socioeconomic conditions, a characteristic feature of Brechtian theatre, and thus established a critical distance from traditional Brechtian aesthetics. Furthermore, the production highlighted the unproductiveness of this dreamscape in its depiction as a barren “no-man’s land” with “rocks and stone pillars” (Allana, “Director’s Note” 70). The purpose of depicting the dreamscape as a “no-man’s land” was to invite the audience on a journey into an archetypal landscape, a landscape with “a surreal and fantastic quality” (Nash 57). The archetypal quality of the landscape was maintained and continuously asserted in the production by changing the configuration of rocks and stone pillars, which are “reminiscent of Stonehenge – primitive rock structures” (Allana, “Production Notes” 83). By using different configurations of the same archetypal landscape to show the journey of Mother Courage, Allana made it clear that Courage’s journey was not through different socio- economic war zones, as in the 1949 production of the play, but through myriad mindscapes. Although these movements suggested a sense of journey, the presence of the same dreamscape in scene after scene with slight changes in configuration of rocks and stone pillars (geometric forms), articulated a sense of no escape, turning the theatrical space into a “plague” (Artaud 27) or “delirium” (27) with the power to devour the character of Courage. Explaining the unchanging character of the set, Allana reveals that the set suggests the landscape, which is an “unchanging one, with variations that don’t really

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count” (Allana, “Director’s Note” 70). What was noteworthy in these futile movements of Mother Courage in a virtually abstract and unlocalised environment was how Brecht’s idea of business-mother – a study in contradiction as Courage tried to amalgamate motherly love with her merchant instinct – gave way to the myth of Sisyphus in the Indian production. Courage became a Sisyphus-like figure, a mythologised figure depicting the human condition of suffering. This archetypal quality of Courage was underscored by Allana herself while discussing the acting of Manohar Singh, the actor who played the role of Courage, in the production of Himmat Mai: “he allows his character to f loat between two worlds, the here and now, and the world of myth” (Allana, “The Power” 59). To enhance this suffering of Courage, she was situated in the world where “the sun never sets,” that is, in a world offering no sleep or rest, associated with night, but one with endless toil. In contrast to Brecht’s production where the cyclorama was “always light grey, almost white” (Brecht, Brecht on Performance 184), the projection in Allana’s production was of “a dull glowing orange sun, which never sets” (70). This image of bright sun distinguished between horror as a ritual that can purify and horror as an emotion that terrifies and entertains, as in bourgeois theatre. To highlight this difference, Allana represented the horror of war as “glowing orange,” reminiscent of Artaud’s definition of theatre as a kind of “strange sun” (30), rather than relying on traditional representations of horror as hues of black. It is clear that these changes were made to highlight two aspects of the production. The use of Stonehenge-like rocks introduced the idea of a mythical space, while the cyclorama with the image of the sun highlighted the horror of Courage’s situation as she continuously toiled in a world where the sun never set. By emphasising these changes in her production, like Artaud, Allana used the medium of theatre to enact ritualised renditions of collective human predicament and to remind the audiences that “[w]e are not free. And the sky can still fall on our heads” (Artaud 79). Moreover, this stage-set allowed Allana “to ritualize action so that the meaning becomes larger than just a story” (Allana, “Production Notes” 85). Simultaneously, the set made the meaning “non-specific,” though still it evoked “memory of events that have taken place in the past” (Allana, “Production Notes” 85). By situating Courage in a mythical world, Allana wanted to evoke past horrors of war to the Indian audience, depictions such as in The Mahabharata and The Ramayana. The modern stage design helped the audiences to connect the modern concept of war to its mythical sources and simultaneously propelled them to question the nature of war. Although like Brecht, these artificial dramaturgical devices were used to create the Verfremdungseffekt, they transcended the limit of Brechtian theatre, which deploys natural objects to create this effect. Barnett hinted at this possibility of post-Brechtian aesthetics when he cited Ernst Schumacher who while discussing a production of Heiner Müller’s Macbeth noted that “it is the process of Verfremdung that Müller employs – but while Brecht stylised natural signs in doing this, Müller replaces them with

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artificial ones” (“I Have to Change Myself ” 10). These geometric stage props were not used to underline change, one of the pillars of Brecht’s theatre, but to establish the connection between the past and present horror of war and highlight the futility of escape from repetitive and cyclical patterns of violence. Discussing how the idea of change is integral to Brecht, Jones writes: “[c]hange, after all, is primary in Brechtian drama. Characters can change, the wagon can change, circumstances can change, the world can change. And these changes take place in his work so that the audience will see a changing world as a model for their own world, in which change is always needed and possible” (111). Unlike Brecht’s, Allana’s production eliminated the possibility of changing things. These two modifications demonstrated how Brechtian theatre in India is neither characteristically European nor Indian, but rather a challenge to any standard and essential definition. The second method used to replicate the horror of war, which in turn promoted epistemological uncertainty and Artaudian aesthetics, was through allusions to multiple historical and intertextual war sources. The use of these allusions broke the normative discourse of bourgeois theatre, which generally tries to contain the meaning of a narrative without letting it slip to the fringes. Allana’s tropes of space and forms created meaning that could not be contained within the bourgeois stage, and therefore they resisted the aesthetics of bourgeois theatre. With these associations, the production challenged the historical frame of the 30-year war by evolving into an abstraction of war rather than a real war. There is no denying that in the original context, there was an intermixing of historical and intertextual elements. However, this interweaving did not present the 30-war as an abstraction because these borrowings were historical rather than mythical and thus saw the war as the result of a changeable human activity rather than an unchangeable universal conundrum. For instance, the much-celebrated expression of Helene Weigel’s scream both intertextually referred to Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” (1893) and historically referred to the 1942 shelling of Singapore. Brecht himself comments: [t]he expression of extreme pain after she has heard the volley of shots, the unscreaming open mouth with head bent back, are probably derived from a press photograph of an Indian woman crouched over the body of her dead son during the shelling of Singapore. Weigel must have seen it years before, although when questioned she could not recall it. That is how observations enter the actor’s consciousness. (Brecht on Performance 213) Both these allusions were historical and thus they simply added to Brecht’s idea of historicising, which underlines the changeability of human nature. Unlike Brecht’s production, which historicised conf lict and showed it to be the result of human activity, Allana’s universalised these dilemmas of war. The audience found themselves experiencing multiple horror of wars as

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Allana recalls that her production enlarged the dimension of Brecht’s classic by “beginning with the Mahabharata as a point of departure, and culminating in the holocaust in Hiroshima” (Allana, “Director’s Note” 69). By challenging the time continuum, Allana ritualised the production and it was this resistance to historical time that transformed epistemological certainty to uncertainty. This presented a departure from Brecht’s concept of historicisation, which underlines the changeability of human beings. This concept is so central to Brecht’s theatre that his other important concept, Verfremdung, is seen as subsidiary to the idea of historicisation. Explaining the relevance of historicisation, Brecht writes: “Verfremdung is, then, a process of historicizing, of portraying incidents and persons as historical, that is, as ephemeral” (“On Experimental Theatre” 143). Although this departure from Brecht’s idea of historicisation might seem as an act of stripping human beings of their agency, unlike Brecht, Allana wanted to activate the audience by shocking them in an Artaudian way, by showing the horror of war in its myriad manifestations through these allusions. One such allusion was in the form of Eilif, Courage’s elder son. In the Indian production, he was called Arjun. Arjun in the Indian scripture of the Mahabharata is one of the five Pandavas who fights against the evil Kauravas for the just cause of retrieving their lost kingdom. With this reference, Allana connected the 30-year war with the war of the Kurukshetra in the Mahabharata, deepening the gravity and complexity of horror rather than instructing the audience to read war as a man-made phenomenon. The production moreover referred to at least one intertextual war production to vitalise itself into becoming a larger than life discourse about the horror of wars. Namely, it communicated with Ebrahim Alkazi’s 1963 production of Dharamvir Bharati’s anti-war play Andha Yug (The Blind Age, 1954). The production was hailed as “a national theatrical event” (Bajeli) primarily because of Alkazi’s use of “the 14th century battlements of Feroz Shah Kotla” (“National School of Drama” 91) as the setting of the performance. By setting the performance at the historical site connected to war, Alkazi privileged the subject of war over morality, which is central to the play: “Andha Yug is essentially a play about morality: it questions whether we are accountable for our moral choices; whether the quality of our actions can transcend the time, place, and circumstances of our existence; and whether we can be more than agents of destiny” (Stewart 112). Alkazi’s production questioned not only the morality but also the repetitive pattern of war. At the heart of this investigation was a figure of a mother, Gandhari, whose 100 sons perished in the war of the Kurukshetra. The production has remained important because it reminded the Cold War-era of the repetitive horror of war since the time of the Mahabharata. Since Alkazi’s production represented a significant attempt to explore the nature of war in modern India, it was likely a primary referent for all productions that came after it. Audiences would have connected Allana’s and

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Alkazi’s productions, not only in the use of rocks, but also in the affinity between Mother Courage Gandhari, both devoured by the horror of losing their children. Allana’s performance of Himmat Mai not only invoked her father Alkazi’s production, but also paid homage from a daughter. The production was not restricted to a historical time but engaged with and transcended many historical periods, tossing spectators from the Thirty Years War to the Kurukshetra war and to a different theatrical rendering of the Mahabharata in the form of Andha Yug, deftly destabilising any quest for definite answers or interpretations. It is this mixing of multiple historical and intertextual narratives to challenge the epistemological certainty of the Marxist framework that is at the heart of post-Brechtian aesthetics. The articulation of truths through primordial archetypal material remained a chief mode of expression in Allana’s production, though conventional Brechtian aesthetics has no relationship with the unknown. Additionally, it used historical and intertextual allusions to problematise the concept of war. In its entirety, the Indian production fashioned the audience to become active participants deeply moved by the horror of war. To mediate the complexity of horror, Allana’s production departed from the realistic character of the original and created a miraculous theatrical space on the stage using geometric shapes. The production cleansed the audience of their desire to participate in war by showing them the cyclical nature of violence, connecting modern-day conf licts with previous incarnations. By staging Brecht’s play using post-Brechtian aesthetics, Allana appropriated the normative reading of Brechtian theatre where it is associated with certain standard and essentialist characteristics. By re-reading the normative values of Brechtian theatre in the context of India, Allana further pointed to the uniqueness of Brechtian theatre in India by using new aesthetics to address problems, specific to post-globalisation India. Allana’s treatment of gender identity resisted Brecht’s interpretative system and ensured a move towards a more open-ended discourse. This departure challenges any claim to present the European variant of Brechtian theatre as an original or pure model for Brechtian practitioners in India and it shows that the site of inf luence is a space of appropriation displaying the plurality of Brechtian theatre. I brief ly pause to ref lect on Barnett’s analysis of the missing interpretative system of Marxism in post-Brechtian aesthetics. The search for the end product of dialectics, based on the interpretative system of Marxism, is one of the characteristic features of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. Post-Brechtian aesthetics transcends this search for conclusiveness as “the [post-Brechtian] production became a meditation on the structures generated by the social context and the ways in which those structures inhibit meaningful relationships through the course of the play. The dialectics that pervade the play operated, consequently, without an object (Barnett, “Towards a Definition” 346). This means that the new aesthetics were not close ended but open ended, as they challenge the finality of dialectics. It is the absence of the same

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quest for the end product of dialectics that placed Allana’s production in regard to gender within the domain of post-Brechtian aesthetics. At the level of gender, the production history of Mother Courage points towards two distinct traditions. The first stream came into existence with the first production of Mother Courage, in Zurich 19 April 1941, where Courage was portrayed as “a Niobe figure” (Fuegi, Essential 238). The second tradition surfaced as a consequence of Brecht’s dislike15 of the feminine portrayal of Courage in the Zurich production. To rid Courage of sympathetic personality or likeness to Niobe, Brecht “cut any and all lines in the text that might tend to make Courage a sympathetic figure” (cited in Fuegi, Essential 238). Allana’s production stood between these two traditions – feminine and not-so-feminine – as Mother Courage was portrayed in Allana’s words as an “androgene” (Allana, “Gender Relations” 173). For Allana, “androgene” was a site of ambivalent gender where the paradox of dual gender must be enacted. It was constructed by three acts: cross-dressing the male actor, Manohar Singh, to play Courage; stylisation of gestures; and the use of accents. The construction of this “androgynous ideal,” which confounded the binary model of gender, resisted the limitation of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics and simultaneously pronounced the larger politics of feminist theatre in India. The site of gender confounding in Allana also became a site of dialectical indeterminacy because it challenged the Marxist dialectics of orthodox Brechtian theatre and the normative reading of female gender, based on this dialectics, which presents gender as a site of resistance against the patriarchal discourse. Himmat Mai articulated the discourse of the feminist theatre of the 1980s, during which women theatre directors in India created a feminist language that differed from previous theatrical expressions in its objective. According to Anuradha Kapur, the new feminist theatre aimed to create “an imagist space” (cited in Subramanyam, “In Their Own Voice” 242) by using language, “which will not converge, where parts are not blended into one another, which will have breaks and distortions and where the play is episodic in nature” (238). Kapur further adds that this imagist space staged the women’s experiences by punctuating dialectical indeterminacy, which means that the audiences “don’t know whether they are sad or happy, the narrative does not converge and that there is no closure” (234). In its ability to eliminate closure – a masculine style – the new theatre challenged not only the patriarchal model of representation but also the binary model of the Marxist interpretative system. Allana registered this shift towards this imagist space of indeterminacy early on with her productions of Federico Garcia Lorca’s Birjis Qadar Ka Kunba (The House of Bernarda Alba, 1982), and Brecht’s Aurat Bhali Ramkali (The Good Person of Szechwan, 1984). In The House of Bernarda, Allana’s female protagonist managed to “castrate” her womanliness (Allana, “Gender Relations 172) to live out a year in mourning. Following this representation of indeterminacy, Allana’s portrayal of Shen Teh in The Good Person of Szechwan manifested the idea further as a character in a constant

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state of “perpetual sexual f lux between male and female” (Allana, “Gender Relations” 171). The inability of a woman to perform her sexuality in the patriarchal world that she inhabits was the thread that ran across both of these productions. As an implication, she was forced to shuff le from one sexual dynamic to another as shown in the metamorphosis of Shui Ta into Shen Teh, and vice versa. These female protagonists tried to break free from the patriarchal norms that defined their sexuality by persistently being in a state of f lux, which Allana presented as the space of resistance against social and cultural conditions that subjugated women’s sexuality. The will to articulate dialectical indeterminacy, a hallmark of feminist criticism in India, further encouraged Allana to dovetail maleness and femaleness in the portrayal of Courage. Interestingly, this gender-confounding resonated with the Hindu concept of Ardhanariswara (half-woman God). The central tenet of Hinduism believes that God Shiva and Goddess Shakti are “incomplete without one another” and thus must co-exist. The physical manifestation of this coexistence is seen in the myth of Ardhanariswara as Shakti “fused her body with Shiva’s and became his left half ” (Pattanaik 27). Ardhanariswara in Hinduism is a site – rather ambiguous – of dual gender. Allana knew of the concept of Ardhanariswara and saw it as central to the idea of gender in India because it works both as a metaphor for “the perfect jodi [couple],” and it also stands for the “male and female aspects of the self in harmony and consonance with one another” (Allana, “Gender Relations” 188). It is this site of dual gender or Ardhanariswara that found articulation in Allana’s portrayal of Courage. It is clear from this brief outline of Allana’s previous engagement with gender that gender was never meant to articulate fixity but dialectical indeterminacy, a popular trend in the Indian feminist theatre of the 1980s. In order to show that the production embraced this trend of Indian feminist theatre, I turn to Courage’s three acts in the production – her stylised gestures, her act of cross dressing, and her non-standard Hindi accent. The production sought a style of acting to express duality associated with the androgyny of Courage. After careful examination of many styles such as the Parsi theatre, Kathakali, Noh and Kabuki, Allana decided to espouse the dance form of Kathak, practised by Birju Maharaj, a famous Kathak dancer and teacher, to impersonate the female character of Courage. Kathak was chosen because it could represent women characters without “female costume or makeup,” but through apt “abhinaya [expressions], mudras [gestures] and chaal [gait]” (Allana “Gender Relations” 175). Manohar Singh’s skill to create the character of Courage as “an agglomeration of several minute details” using Birju Maharaj’s acting style accentuated how gender is more than a site of unambiguous realistic signifiers. This tactic became clear in the major portion of the sixth scene, where the character of Mother Courage forms a collage of “how she keeps accounts, writes them down, how she tucks away her notebook in the side of the cart, returns the pencil to her purse” (Allana, “The Power” 57). Clearly, these minute details essaying the character of

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Courage did not point towards her gender, and thus destabilised the normative politics of gender as a space highlighting the difference between maleness and femaleness. In Allana’s production, this act of showing was highlighted through a dialectical narrative presenting maleness and femaleness without offering a unified discourse where one dominates the other. The investigation of gender continued in Allana’s use of the non-verbal gestures of Courage’s chaal (gait) and mute scream (mudras). They challenged the conventional representation of gender by presenting it as ambivalent rather than well-defined, showing a clear separation between male and female. In the Indian production, the Gestus created gender as a desexualised site showing the collusion between maleness and femaleness in opposition to the binary model of male and female. This articulation of dual gender was important because it arrested the realist theatre apparatus’ tendency to ideologise the representation of the female body. In its quest to closely depict the physical body by situating it within its social surroundings, the apparatus of the realist/naturalist theatre is known to promote forms of portrayals that are connected to bourgeois modes of representation, which maintain the status-quo rather than challenge it. To manipulate the realist theatre apparatus, Allana sought a new framework so that the ideological representation of women could be overcome. Allana’s use of gait to create a desexualised space diverged from Brecht’s use where it was an activity establishing one’s sexual and social identity. Brecht equipped the Gestus of gait with the power to sexualise a character, manifested in Kattrin’s act of mimicking Yvette’s gait. Yvette, a seductive prostitute, was shown to be a doppelgänger of Kattrin, who remained desexualised, the result of Courage’s attempt to protect her daughter from the soldiers. Kattrin sexualised herself in her act of imitating Yvette’s gait while wearing Yvette’s red shoes, which Kattrin stole because she believed that they could give her a seductive gait and transform her into a beautiful young woman. The production invited audiences to participate in Kattrin’s transformation by visually presenting it in the form of dance-like movements that were highly stylised, bio-mechanical or Meyerholdian. These movements copied Yvette’s gestures, who as a prostitute remained the epitome of a sexualised being in the production. Thus, in Brecht’s production, the Gestus of gait constructed a sexualised space, engendering characteristics associated with a particular sex. In contrast to Brecht, the Gestus of gait was used not to bestow womanly charms but to denude the category of gender of its power. To deconstruct gender, Allana first sexualised Courage’s gait and then gradually desexualised it. Allana feminised Courage with the help of “simple jootis” (Allana, “Gender Relations” 179), traditional Indian footwear made up of leather and often embroidered in the front. These jootis made the male actor’s “plump feet look smaller” and “gave a spring to his walk” (Allana, “Gender Relations” 179), thus sexualising his gait. Moreover, these jootis squeaked when Courage walked, and therefore offered a semblance of “feminine vanity and

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playfulness” (Allana, “Gender Relations” 179). Hiding the plump feet of Singh, the jootis with their squeaky sounds contributed to the construction of female gender. After the jootis, Courage’s gait also enacted the female gender, however, this attempt was interrupted in scene after scene by underscoring the physical strength and aggressiveness of the male actor, turning gender into an ambivalent site of duality. The feminine gait created through the jootis was denaturalised by the male actor’s physical strength, and the squeak of the jootis invited the audience to observe this play of dialectics between maleness and femaleness. This binary contradiction between the maleness of the body and constructed femaleness accentuated the unfixed character of gender. The Gestus of the iconic mute scream of Courage (depicted in Allana, “Director’s Note” 69) continued to highlight gender as an ambivalent category. It differed from Brecht’s similar Gestus (depicted in Brecht on Performance 211) in his staging. Unlike Brecht’s production, where the scream was carried out while Courage was sitting, in Allana’s production, Courage stood almost perpendicular to the audience. Moreover, in Allana, the scream was not presented as a solitary act but was interwoven with aggressively pulling the cart. These changes show that Allana wanted to suggest a meaning different from Brecht. The change in the mise-en-scène in the Indian production turned the Gestus of mute scream into an activity de-eroticising gender, as I show, and reconfigured it as an ambivalent category. Brecht’s version did not use the scream to eroticise Courage but to highlight the plight of war, while Allana’s use of scream to illustrate the eroticising/de-eroticising politics turned into a feminist site. The power of the Gestus to denaturalise has been widely acclaimed as one of its functions and Allana’s attempt to use the Gestus to desexualise gender must be read as an articulation of this power. Elin Diamond reminds us of this capability of the Gestus: it brackets the social bias in order to “denaturalize and defamiliarize what ideology makes seem normal, acceptable, inescapable” (89). Allana’s use of Gestus emulated this depiction of patriarchal ideology. Allana’s blocking of Mother Courage with her cart may have immediately reminded the audience of the movie Mother India (1957). One of the images from the movie that has remained an integral part of Indian cultural memory is of the female protagonist, Radha, pulling the plough with her mouth open. Despite the movie’s attempt to equate the idea of India with a woman, this image de-eroticises Radha by arresting her with the plough, turning her into a physical manifestation of de-eroticised women in Indian cinema. In other words, the image points to her masculinisation by underlining her physical ploughing of the field, erasing her feminine self. The gesture of the open mouth contributes significantly to the process of de-eroticisation by highlighting the effect of hard labour on her body. It not only articulates Radha’s mental will to go on despite her poverty and ongoing exploitation from the hand of the moneylender but also her physical power. Courage was both the patriarch of her family and a symbol of physical strength, as shown through her gesture of pulling the cart. Like Radha, Allana’s Courage was

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de-eroticised through the gesture of the open mouth, and the use of a male actor to play Courage, in turn, contributed to her masculinisation. Reading against this backdrop, we can see how the Gestus of Courage’s open mouth differed from that of Brecht’s. Courage’s mute scream was not an attempt to visually manifest a mother’s inability to publically acknowledge her son but an attempt to subvert the male gaze. The mute scream became a metaphor in Brecht’s production to highlight the condition of the working class in capitalist society, where they must remain silent and respect the status quo. In Allana’s, it subverted the seductive image of a woman and thus de-eroticised female gender, turning it into an ambivalent site. By subverting the male gaze of the patriarchal order, the Gestus of an open mouth drew attention to the ambivalent meaning of gender. This use differed from Brecht’s use where the Gestus in the production likely highlighted the absence of freedom under the capitalist order. To further augment the ambivalence of two voices – maleness and femaleness – Allana further asked Singh to maintain his male voice while speaking “all his Hindi dialogues with a Himachali accent” (an accent used by the Hindi speakers of Himachal Pradesh, a state in India) (cited in Mangai 114). The result was that the dialogues started to “have musicality and rhythm which was very feminine and playful which had not been the case when spoken in straight forward Hindi” (cited in Mangai 114). Allana did not seek a unified narrative with a “eunuch-like” voice or gender-ambivalent quality (cited in Mangai 114) that would have been a result of one interpretative system. By articulating both maleness and femaleness, she challenged the interpretative system. Allana’s form of gender confounding is a characteristic of Brechtian-inspired theatre practice. She maintained the two voices of gender throughout the production, reinforcing the importance of the body by paying heed to the detail in emphasising both male and female voices. In other words, the project of the androgynous body denaturalised and demystified gender to challenge the representational apparatus, which exists on the model of Manichean dichotomy. Moreover, the production’s use of linguistic polyphony also challenged any definite interpretative system. The audience realised that the production engaged with a vast range of dialects of Hindi – “Himachali, Avadhi, Haryanvi, Bhojpuri, Bihari” (Allana, “Director’s Note” 70). These dialects remained important because they injected a certain sense of incomprehensibility, keeping political certainty at bay and underscoring the f luidity of the production. Although Tanvir also used dialects/accents (to articulate the material surroundings of his tribal actors, generally limited to a few), Allana’s use of dialects presents a linguistic babble and poses a problem of the incommensurability of narratives. I have argued that Allana’s production was an instance of post-Brechtian aesthetics because it created dialectical indeterminacy. To demonstrate how Allana created dialectical indeterminacy, I analysed two aspects of Allana’s theatre: her use of Artaudian aesthetics interwoven with allusions to historical

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and intertextual sources, and her use of gender confounding. By constructing the production first by using Artaudian aesthetics and second through an ambivalent representation of gender, Allana deconstructed the manifesto of conventional Brechtian aesthetics, which promoted epistemological and political certainty. Moreover, it showed that the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre diverged from its European counterpart in its poetics and purposes. This shift in Allana’s production towards Artaudian aesthetics to create a feminist theatre provides evidence to the argument that Brechtian theatre is non-essentialist in character. The rise of Allana’s variant is significant as it showed the continued relevance of Brechtian theatre in India because of its ability to articulate the new voice of globalised India. Moreover, it demonstrated how the power of Brechtian theatre lies not in being restricted to orthodox Brechtian aesthetics but in its adaptability. If at the heart of Hashmi’s street play was the urge to generate ideological meaning using revolutionary aesthetics, then post-Brechtian aesthetics challenged the ideological gaze, subverting any dialectically determinate meaning. Interestingly, the new street theatre suggested stronger engagement with audiences across all classes, including the class that resides on the street while post-Brechtian theatre recommended engaging with dialectical indeterminacy. Despite this difference, both the new street theatre and post-Brechtian theatre are linked to one another because of their engagement with conventional Brechtian aesthetics. By relying on traditional Brechtian aesthetics, these two forms pointed towards two alternative futures of Brechtian aesthetics. Moreover, by contesting the conventions of relatively stable and codified aesthetics of Brechtian theatre, these transgressive forms highlighted the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. The site of Brechtian inf luence in India is a space voicing a history of non-conformity rather than the anxiety of imitation. It is the non-conformity of two aesthetic formations that offered second life to orthodox Brechtian aesthetics.

Notes 1 In 1991 India opened its door to liberalisation, privatisation and globalisation to address inf lation and other financial problems ailing the country. 2 The play was performed many times in March 1980. Since its premiere in 1980, it has been produced more than 1,600 times ( Jana Natya Manch 23). My analysis relies on the dramatic text that was published after the 1988 production. 3 Throughout the chapter, I call the production Himmat Mai while I call the character Mother Courage or Courage rather than Himmat, as in the Indian production, to differentiate between the two. 4 Pina Bausch’s works “combine the theoretical approaches of Brecht and Artaud and that the use of their respective theories will disclose Bausch’s unresolved dialectical examination of the politics of the body – that is, how gender is constructed” (Price 323). Jonathan Kalb discussing the fusing of Artaudian and Brechtian aesthetics in Heiner Müller writes that Müller had “a clear awareness that numerous theater artists – Peter Weiss, Edward Bond, Peter Brook, and Jerzy Grotowski, for example – had earned international recognition by fusing

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5

6

7

8 9 10

11

12

13

Brecht and Artaud in original syntheses” (106). Discussing the Living Theatre’s production of The Brig, Peter Zazzali remarks in his conference paper that “like Brecht’s plays, the piece relied on ensemble playing, exhibited Brechtian Gestus, and was definitively political” (4). Simultaneously, “it echoed Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty by engaging the audience’s senses by hypnotically encompassing them within the violent milieu of the brig, and coincidentally, transforming the theatrical space into a nightmarish madhouse” (4). Gyan Prakash has called Doga the “avenger on the street” (289) of Mumbai. Doga is a superhero comic character whose name ref lects the dog mask which he wears before annihilating criminals with his violent brand of justice. Unmasked, he is known as Suraj. There is no consensus on when the nukkad natak as a genre originated. Three most important moments in its history are: first, according to Manoj Mohan, Bharatendu Harishchandra’s plays against the British called Bharat Durdarsha (Plight of India, 1875) and Andher Nagari (City of Darkness, 1881) can be associated with the history of nukkad natak (83); the second moment is associated with Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA). According to Utpal Dutt, one of the most popular Indian theatre directors, and an early proponent of Indian street theatre, in the IPTA the street-corner play was introduced “during the 1952 elections.” He adds that in “1951, during the bandimukti andolan (movement for the release of political prisoners) we organised street-corner plays – that was the first time” (25); the third moment is associated with Nav Nirman Andolan (Re-construction movement) of 1974, which is often considered as the moment that gave rise to modern street theatre in India. I use the terms – “bare” and “open” offered by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o for whom theatre spaces are never empty because they “are tied to time, that is, history, and that therefore they are sites of physical, social, and psychic forces in a postcolonial society” (“Enactments” 14). This form of satire corresponds “to the Western critical category of ‘direct’ or ‘formal’ satire, Horatian or Juvenalian satire. Speaking in the first person, the satirist exposes the vices and follies of his age” (Siegel 59). Bhana is of two types: “that recounting of one’s own experience and that describing someone else’s acts” (Bharata 373). Dialectical narratives present the conf lict of contradictions and thus highlight the untruth of unified discourse. One of the earliest examples of this dialectical contradiction is in Plato’s Symposium. One of the participants, Eryximachus, in his speech on the praise of love mentions two examples of hidden contradiction in the context of music. First is harmony because “a harmony comes from elements which previously differed – high and low notes – but which have been brought to agreement by the science of music” (16). Second is rhythm because “[i]t comes from elements which previously differed – fast and slow beats – and which later are made to agree” (16). The authorship of the play is owned by the group, Jana Natya Manch rather than Hashmi, so I cite Jana Natya Manch as the author of the play. I have translated all quotes from Jana Natya Manch from Hindi into English. Two members of Jana Natya Manch – Moloyashree Hashmi, the wife of late Safdar Hashmi, and Sudhanva Deshpande – have been generous with their help in this regard. My choice of the word song in this instance is dependent on the rhythmical quality of the speech. The rhythmical quality of the prose of the plays of the Jana Natya Manch in general has already been documented by Arjun Ghosh who explains that the language of the plays “was a rhythmic, poetic prose in which most of the characters spoke in rhymes” (“Meanings” 132). I introduced this debate in Chapter 3.

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174  The bends versus ends of Brechtian theatre Smith, Jonathan Z. “The Bare Facts of Ritual.” History of Religions 20.1/2 (1980): 112–127. Print. Smith, Zadie. “Two Paths for the Novel.” The New York Review of Books 55.18 (2008): 89–94. Print. Stewart, Frank. “The Mahabharata and Andha Yug: A Brief Summary.” Manoa 22.1 (2010): 111–114. Print. Subramanyam, Lakshmi. “In Their Own Voice: In Conversation with Anuradha Kapur, Geetanjali Shree and Vidya Rao.” Muffled Voices: Women in Modern Indian Theatre. Ed. Lakshmi Subramanyam. Delhi: Shakti Books, 2002. 209–223. Print. Swift, Laura A. The Hidden Chorus: Echoes of Genre in Tragic Lyric. Oxford: Oxford U P, 2010. Print. Thiong’o, Ngugi wa. “Enactments of Power: The Politics of Performance Space.” TDR 41.3 (1997): 11–30. Print. ———. “Europhonism, Universities, and the Magic Fountain: The Future of African Literature and Scholarship.” Research in African Literatures 31.1 (2000): 1–11. Print. Witt, Hubert. Brecht as They Knew Him. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1975. Print. Witt, Mary Anna Frese. Metatheater and Modernity: Baroque and Neobaroque. Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson U P, 2013. Print. Zazzali, Peter. “An Artaudian and Brechtian Analysis of the Living Theatre’s The Brig: A Study of Contradictory Theories in Practice.” Language and the Scientific Imagination, The 11th International Conference of ISSEI Language Centre, University of Helsinki, Finland, 28 July–2 August 2008. Conference Presentation.1–17.

Conclusion A re-reading

This book has critically analysed the relations of inf luence and resistance between post-independence Indian theatre and Brechtian aesthetics. The study has shown that post-independence Indian drama is a cultural palimpsest – a site celebrating the dialogue between Western and Indian theatrical traditions – rather than an isolated category. The post-independence period in India was a period of inherent political and cultural turmoil as the new nation sought fresh literary models to decolonise itself. While Indian playwrights borrowed from the West during this period, these new Western “transplant[s]” remained indicative of “cultural surgery” (Ngugi, “Europhonism” 3). Against the backdrop of this spirit of cultural resistance, over five chapters, I have “re-read” the notion of “inf luence” while examining the impact of Brechtian aesthetics on Indian theatre. Within the framework of the discourse of inf luence, my book has argued that Brechtian theatre in India is not inferior but on par with the idea of Brechtian theatre in Europe. By exploring the distinct uses of Brechtian aesthetics in India and focusing on the local voices and native inf luences that were active in the formation of the Indian variants of Brechtian theatre I have underlined its pharmakonic character. At the same time, I have shown that Brechtian theatre in India is more than the sum of Brecht’s original ideas, and thus it challenges any attempts to present it as the invention of the West. I began my argument on the narrative of inf luence in Chapter 1 by reanalysing the construct of Brechtian theatre in the Indian context. I showed that the socio-political conditions and theatrical traditions of India appropriate the universal construct of Brechtian theatre, swerving it from its original path and aims. This moment of “swerve” marks the renaissance of Brechtian theatre because the Indian variants of Brechtian theatre articulate the ongoing medley of diverse theatre traditions – Western and Indian performance practices – while remaining constantly in dialogue with the social urges and political anxieties of postcolonial India. I argued that Brechtian theatre should be read as a constellation of many voices rather than one overarching voice. Following this investigation of Brechtian theatre in India in Chapter 1, in the remaining four chapters I then explored the problem of poetics and politics of Brechtian theatre in India from multiple perspectives.

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Each chapter has provided a different methodological and content contribution to the idea of Brechtian theatre in India. In Chapter 2, I analysed the politics of Brechtian theatre in India by reading it against the Indian carnivalesque tradition and poetic realism of classical Indian drama. Beginning with the 1963 production of Sufaid Kundali (The Caucasian Chalk Circle) by Hindustani Theatre, I showed that since its first viewing in the Hindi belt, Brechtian theatre has been an assertion of what Foucault calls “similarity” rather than resemblance. For Foucault, the similar, as discussed in the Introduction, “develops in series that have neither beginning nor end, that can be followed in one direction as easily as in another, that obey no hierarchy, but propagate themselves from small differences among small differences” (This is Not a Pipe 44). I pointed to the presence of a subversive variant of proscenium arch theatre that preceded Brechtian theatre in India and demonstrated how this variant remained crucial in shaping India’s definition of Brechtian theatre. Thus, the emergence of Brechtian theatre cannot be credited solely to the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India but is also a recognition of India’s own theatrical traditions that were both political and subversive. I further highlighted the pharmakonic nature of Brechtian theatre by demonstrating how the Indian variant was used differently from the European variant. Brechtian theatre in India is not a mimetic portrait of Brechtian theatre in Europe but an articulation of Indian theatrical traditions and dilemmas. This analysis asserts “inf luence” as an interrogation of the universal category of Brechtian theatre from the perspective of India’s indigenous theatre traditions. In Chapter 3, I investigated the inf luence of Brechtian aesthetics on Indian theatre between the late 1960s and early 1970s. I have analysed the theatrical form of Gestic realism, an idiom that surfaced due to the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics, and have argued that the character of Gestic realism in India differs from its European counterpart. By demonstrating the difference between the two, the chapter’s study of Bennewitz’s performance of Teen Take Ka Swang (The Threepenny Opera, 1970) problematised the idea of inf luence. Again, inf luence is seen as an interrogation of universal definitions and a site highlighting the pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre. However, in contrast to Chapter 2, here, I examined the other side of inf luence – that is, how Brechtian aesthetics transformed Indian theatre. Within this context, inf luence challenges the idea of Indian theatre as a singular and self-sufficient category. Chapters 2 and 3 contested the idea of singularity by first showing the “similarity” between Brechtian theatre and Indian theatre, which in turn destabilises the idea of Brechtian theatre as an original category, and then demonstrating how the dissemination of Brechtian aesthetics in India challenges any urge to define Indian theatre as a self-sustaining category, shielded from transcultural inf luences. In Chapter 4, I continued the dialogue on inf luence by examining the theatre of Habib Tanvir, a playwright and director from India. With my analysis of Shajapur ki Shantibai (The Good Person of Szechwan, 1978), I demonstrated

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how Tanvir appropriated both Western and mainstream Indian variants of Brechtian theatre to create his “regional” strain of Brechtian theatre in India, which fights against dominant viewpoints and hegemonic positions. Unlike the previous two chapters, which highlighted the idea of inf luence as an interrogation, this chapter emphasised the idea of inf luence as an appropriation of undiluted models. By highlighting the difference in the poetics and uses of Brechtian theatre in Tanvir’s hands, the chapter further drew attention to the pharmakonic identity of Brechtian theatre. In the last chapter, I further traced the trajectory of the discourse of inf luence as appropriation. I explored two bends of Brechtian theatre – new street theatre and post-Brechtian theatre – to argue that these interventions are appropriations of orthodox Brechtian aesthetics. I analysed the “appropriation” of Brechtian theatre by examining Safdar Hashmi’s production of Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain (Don’t Blame the Powerful, 1980), followed by the second “appropriation” of Brechtian theatre through Amal Allana’s production of Himmat Mai (Mother Courage and her Children, 1993). With this consolidated reading, I argue that these are the sites where orthodox Brechtian aesthetics were re-evaluated and transformed. Additionally, the study has challenged the misreading of Brechtian theatre in India as a singular narrative of uniform socio-political conditions. By re-reading Brechtian theatre in conjunction with the realities – social, political, and historical – of India, which continuously change based on one’s geographical location, I have challenged the notion of a universal essence of Brechtian theatre in India and situated it as a site celebrating multiplicities and pluralities. Put differently, I have argued that there are multiple variants of Brechtian theatre in India rather than only one monolithic idea. Moreover, this reading has accentuated what Barthes in a different context calls the “writerly” quality – in contrast to “readerly” character – of Brechtian theatre in India: The writerly text is a perpetual present, upon which no consequent language (which would inevitably make it past) can be superimposed; the writerly text is ourselves writing, before the infinite play of the world (the world as function) is traversed, intersected, stopped, plasticized by some singular system (Ideology, Genus, Criticism) which reduces the plurality of entrances, the opening of networks, the infinity of languages. (S/Z 5) In other words, the writerly text recognises the indeterminability of meanings and plurality of cultures. By recognising the possibility of Brechtian theatre to emerge in conjunction with the multiplicity of India, I have presented Brechtian theatre as an instance of writerly text. By emphasising the plurality of Brechtian theatre in India, Indian theatre directors saved it from being fixed in one ideological formation. The “writerly” character of Brechtian theatre in India highlights the diversity of India by resisting one essential

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model and celebrating the country’s multivalent character. By underlining the diversity of India, Brechtian theatre highlights India’s plurality in contrast to the constitution of its nation-state. I have considered “inf luence” – appropriation and interrogation – as a phenomenon outside the domain of epistemic privilege. Clearly, the inf luential author is not standing on a moral and intellectual high ground but is simply a purveyor of aesthetics that is in dialogue with the new socio-political conditions of the theatrical director. These conditions reinterpret and construct a new aesthetics which is “similar” to – but does not “resemble” – the old. Instead, the old and the new are in symbiotic relationship, simultaneously informing and being informed by the other. Working within these two meanings of inf luence, I have argued that Brechtian theatre in India is not only an extension of Brechtian theatre in Europe but is also a resistance to it as well as the knowledge system that produced it. I have answered the central question, can Indians create Brechtian theatre? This question is both an intervention into and extension of Hamid Dabashi’s 2013 essay “Can Non-Europeans Think?” Building on Edward Said’s book Orientalism (1978) Dabashi focuses on the epistemic racism that thinkers outside the European philosophical pedigree have to confront. This racism validates Eurocentric beliefs by classifying the non-European perspective as peripheral and thus unimportant to mainstream discourse: [a]re they “South Asian thinkers” or “thinkers,” the way these European thinkers are? Why is it that a Mozart sneeze is “music” (and I am quite sure the great genius even sneezed melodiously) but the most sophisticated Indian music ragas are the subject of “ethnomusicology”? (Dabashi 32) Dabashi’s idea of epistemic racism is articulated in the treatment of the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre as a peripheral as well as an uninf luential site that can’t contribute to the Eurocentric idea of Brechtian theatre. Responding to this culture of peripheralisation, which f lattens the significance of an alternative discourse and prevents people inhabiting the periphery from being heard, my study has presented “periphery” as a constellation of parallel systems of thought. The presence of a parallel constellation resists the absoluteness of one definition. To put it in the context of Brechtian theatre, I have used the term “periphery” to refer to an aesthetics that challenges the epistemic privilege of mainstream models, either Western or of urban India. My study has challenged this epistemic racism by demonstrating how Brechtian theatre in India is an active variant of its European counterpart – a pharmakon, as I define it in my introduction. Moreover, the study has shown different variants of Brechtian theatre in India and thus further challenged the idea of India as one meta-model of Brechtian theatre that encompasses all the country. I have shown that critical models of India’s bhasha (language) heritage changed the constitution of Brechtian theatre in India turning it into a variant, which

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despite its peripheral status, writes back and challenges undiluted models. In its constitution as a pharmakon, the new variant of Brechtian theatre is both “undisciplinary” (Mignolo xii) and an indicator of “epistemic disobedience” (xii). However, this epistemic disobedience is not bereft of revolutionary zeal, as previously thought. On the contrary, critical epistemologies of India reshaped Brechtian aesthetics, and saved it from losing its “revolutionary” politics and poetics, thus giving it a new lease of life. In this sense, this book has contributed both to Brechtian and Indian theatre scholarship by questioning the universal idea of Brechtian theatre as well as Indian theatre. This study has not only provided a comprehensive account of the transmutations and metamorphosis in the seemingly continuous tradition of Brechtian theatre, it has also highlighted two new paths for future research on transcultural theatre in general and Brechtian theatre in particular through historicist and postcolonial readings of texts. The first path points towards a study that must accentuate the politics of historicism. Dipesh Chakrabarty, who built upon Michel Foucault’s poststructuralist critiques of historicism, notes that historicism “was a mode of thinking about history in which one assumed that any object under investigation retained a unity of conception throughout its existence and attained full expression through a process of development in secular, historical time” (Provincializing xiv). Historicism as a particular strand of “developmentalist thought” (Provincializing xiv) remained integral to the formation of the idea of Europe as the “original” centre of inventions and thus was an ally in showing the portrayal of theatrical constructs such as Brechtian theatre in third world countries as sloppily or half-grown afterthoughts of the European idea of Brechtian theatre. In other words, historicist readings associate authenticity and legitimacy with origins and thus fail to highlight the importance of theatrical constructs like Brechtian theatre in third world countries. Unfortunately, within the framework of this prejudiced historicist thinking, Brechtian theatres all over the world are nothing but afterthoughts that are both secondary and subservient to the original idea of Brechtian theatre in the West. While I address this characterisation of Brechtian theatre in postcolonial societies as an afterthought, I do not intend to hint at the elitist nature of Brechtian theatre in the West. For me, Brechtian theatre becomes elitist when it “colludes with the logic of historicist thought” (Chakrabarty, Provincializing 238). My action of reading Brechtian theatre outside the politics of historicism contributes to reading strategies that challenge historicist readings, which assigns greatness to the text based on its development in secular historical time. Therefore, my book has offered a strategy to future scholars to read Western theatrical traditions outside discriminatory practices that see the dissemination of Western performance traditions as an articulation of the greatness of the West rather than a single step in a sequence of infinite cultural transactions. Second, the study has revived the interest in minor directors/writers. By “minor directors,” I refer to directors whose works continue to be considered

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secondary because of their geo-political location in postcolonial societies. By reading these minor directors/writers, I have challenged knowledge systems, produced under the condition of coloniality, and the seeds of epistemic racism that they planted. By epistemic racism, I refer to the institutionalisation of knowledge that is responsible for the creation of canons. This racism becomes visible in the choice of examined writers – that is, these systems privilege the original work of “canonical” rather than “minor” writers or directors who remain unexplored on account of their status being perceived as lower than (mostly European) canonical writers. Often, these so-called minor directors are major in postcolonial countries as it happened in the case of the directors, I analysed but they continue to be almost invisible in the European canon. I have addressed the issue of epistemic racism by comparing the European variant with the Indian variant of Brechtian theatre and demonstrating how despite its revolutionary character, the Indian variant continues to be overlooked. I have attended to the Indian variant’s under-analysed status and peripheral character by identifying five theatre companies/directors between the 1960s and the 1990s on the basis of their contribution to Indian theatre and their interest in engaging with transcultural performance practices. In conjunction with my larger project of documenting Brechtian aesthetics and its inf luence on Hindi theatre, I have focused on Hindi theatre rather than on Hindi directors. This is why one of my chapters has focused on Fritz Bennewitz, a non-Hindi speaking German director who contributed to Indian theatre in the Hindi belt. My methodology in identifying these unexplored minor writers can be used by future scholars. Moreover, my study has focused on the adaptations of Brecht by Indian directors – as opposed to the canonical works of Brecht himself – and thus draws attention towards minor writers/ directors and their contribution to postcolonial studies. My book has systematically documented the historical trajectory of several minor Brechtian directors and has paved the path to better and more deeply contextualised analyses of such minor writers. The questions of epistemic privilege and minor writers/directors need to be addressed in further explorations of Brechtian theatre in India and abroad. Indeed, this project of reading Brechtian theatre should continue until we have documented the cultural trajectory of many such minor directors. In addition to this, the study in its analysis of performances has contributed to theatre studies by generating knowledge related to adaptation of Brecht’s plays and Brechtian productions, as well as contributing to Brechtian studies, a discipline that remains short of performance analysis, especially in the Indian context. Although this study has specifically focused on India and theatre studies in its engagement, its results can be extended to other postcolonial nations such as Bangladesh and Pakistan. By extending this discourse, my intention is to point towards a world where knowledge is free, and where constructs like Brechtian theatre are considered beyond the legacy of the original Patriarch. This means that although constructs like Brechtian theatre can be

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considered to be Europe’s creation, their discovery and legacy belong to the whole world. To conclude, Brechtian theatre in India is a fertile terrain of active mutation which subverts and redefines the past strain of Brechtian theatre. I have shown that rather than deconstructing the original strain, it both problematises the poetics and politics of Indian theatre and Brechtian theatre in Europe. Interestingly, this challenge to the original strain of Brechtian theatre reminds me of the acts of Birbal, an Indian savant and wit in Emperor Akbar’s court. When challenged by Akbar to make a straight chalk-line smaller without touching it (Birbal 269), Birbal proved his mettle, shortening the line by drawing a bigger line in front of it. Like Birbal, Indian directors have drawn many such lines with their versions of Brechtian theatre in front of the European variant of Brechtian theatre and have thus challenged the essentialist idea of an unchanging Brechtian theatre. Although the definition of Brechtian theatre in India will continue to be debated, its resistant structure, based on its anti-hierarchical stand and deliberate pharmakon shape, as underlined by my book, will remain the starting point of this debate.

Bibliography Barthes, Roland. “Seven Photo Models of Mother Courage.” Tulane Drama Review 12.1 (1967): 44–55. Print. ———. Image, Music, Text. London: Fontana, 1977. Print. ———. S/Z. Oxford: Blackwell, 1990. Print. Birbal. “Lakir Chhoti Hogayi.” Akbar Birbal Vinod. Ed. Ramanand Dwivedi. Banaras: Babu Baijnath Prasad, 1938. 269. Print. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Print. ———. “Clothing the Political Man: A Reading of the Use of Khadi/White in India Public Life.” Postcolonial Studies 4.1 (2001): 27–38. Print. Dabashi, Hamid. Can Non-Europeans Think?. London: Zed Books, 2015. Print. Derrida, Jacques. Dissemination. Trans. Barbara Johnson. London: Athlone Press, 1981. Print. Foucault, Michel. This is Not a Pipe. Trans. James Harkness. Ed. James Harkness. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Print. ———. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. Alan M. Sheridan-Smith. London: Routledge, 1989. Mignolo. Walter. “Foreword: Yes, We Can.” Can Non-Europeans Think?. By Hamid Dabashi. London: Zed Books, 2015. viii–xlii. Print. ———. “Europhonism, Universities, and the Magic Fountain: The Future of African Literature and Scholarship.” Research in African Literatures 31.1 (2000): 1–11. Print. Plato. The Symposium and the Phaedo. Trans. Raymond Larson. Ed. Raymond Larson. Wheeling: Harlan Davidson, 1980. Print. Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon, 1978. Print. Thiong’o, Ngugi wa. “Enactments of Power: The Politics of Performance Space.” TDR 41.3 (1997): 11–30. Print.

Index

Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. Adorno, Theodor 94, 95 aesthetic activism 82 aesthetic radicalism 30 Agarwal, Bharat Bhushan 1, 2 Agra Bazaar (Tanvir) 64, 65, 68–74, 85n15, 111, 144 AIPWA see All-India Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA) Akademi, Sangeet Natak 36, 37, 56n13, 57n31, 86n22 Akbarabadi, Nazir 69, 70, 72, 73 Alkazi, Ebrahim 10, 37, 93, 94, 160, 161 Allana, Amal 15, 18n12, 19n12, 50, 51, 138, 142, 153–167, 169n14, 177; Himmat Mai 141 Allana, Nissar 141, 155; A Tribute to Bertolt Brecht 18n12 All-India Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA) 28, 29, 37, 44, 54 Althusser, Louis 57n36, 127 Anderson, Benedict 16n2, 52 Andheri Nagari 92, 168n6 angik abhinaya 73 angikka abhinaya 33 anti-naturalistic theatre 49–50 antithetical historical movements 30 anxiety 4, 13, 94, 167 Anxiety of Influence (Bloom) 1 Appadurai, Arjun 4 Ardhanariswara 163 Aristotelian model 40, 41 Aristotelian system of Parsi theatre 44, 45 Aristotelian theatre 40, 41 Aristotle 17n7, 37, 42, 43; Poetics 40 Artaud, Antonin 141, 142, 158, 167n4, 168n4 Ashk, Upendranath 32

audience-centric approach 140 Aurat Bhali Ramkali (Brecht) 162 avant-garde theatre activity 35 Awasthi, Suresh 36, 37, 55n4 Bacon, Francis: Novum Organum 17n7 Bakhtin, Mikhail 65, 69, 70, 73, 80, 84n6 Balzac, Honoré de 106n6 Banerjee, Arundhati 17n11, 35 Banham, Martin 57n26 Baokar, Uttara 90, 102, 103 Barnett, David 41, 42, 53, 56n21, 76, 102, 154–156, 158, 161 Barthes, Roland 7, 40, 51, 97, 177 Basu, Golak 34 Bausch, Pina 141, 167n4 Baxandall, Michael 5 Befremdung 39 Benazir Badremunir 55n8 Benegal, Som 67 Bengali theatre 30, 34–36, 54 Benjamin, Walter 139, 143–145, 148, 153 Bennewitz, Fritz 10, 14, 15, 17n11, 18n12, 90, 91, 106n3, 111, 117, 176, 180; Gestus and Bennewitz’s production 96–105; political theatre in India and Brecht 92–96 Bhabha, Homi 2, 7, 12, 43, 93 Bhalla, M.M. 84n8 Bharata 47, 55n12, 56n12, 57n26; Natyasastra 33, 44, 52, 55n12, 57n27, 73 Bharat Durdarsha 168n6 Bharucha, Rustom 34–35, 70, 84n4; Rehearsals of Revolution:The Political Theater of Bengal 17n11 Bhatia 104

184 Index Bhatia, Nandi 9, 35, 36, 92 Bhatia, Sheila 10, 67, 96 Bhatia,Vanraj 91, 103 Birjis Qadar Ka Kunba (Lorca) 162 Blau, Herbert 11 Bloom, Harold 16n1; Anxiety of Influence 1 Bombay Amateur Theatre 31 Bond, Edward 167n4 Bora 147, 148 Bose, Subhash Chandra 129 Bradley, Laura 39, 47 Brandon, James R. 57n26 Brecht: A Choice of Evils (Esslin) 19n13 Brechtian aesthetics 3, 8, 9, 16, 37, 49, 75, 80, 93, 102, 103, 114, 117, 120, 175, 179; adaptation of 12; “bend” in 141; conventional 138, 140, 144, 153, 156, 161; creating political theatre using 115; culmination of 137; deployment of 105, 111; dissemination of 4, 6, 7, 10, 11, 14, 15, 64, 130, 176; diverse uses of 5, 113; documenting 180; European 68; fascination with 94; imbricative narratives of 74; implementing 90; in India and Europe 2; Indian aesthetics and 65; Indian political theatre based on 96; and indigenous performance 104; orthodox 139, 142, 143, 150, 151, 154, 162, 167, 177; ritualised rendering of 155; solitary dissemination of 83; traditional 143, 145, 148, 157 Brechtian method 38, 53, 57n36 Brechtian realism 105 Brechtian scholarship 3, 7, 10, 15, 18n12, 19n12, 64, 68, 102 Brechtian theatre in Europe 5, 43, 64, 65, 90, 96, 111, 112, 143, 175, 176, 178, 181 Brechtian theatre in India 1–2, 14–16, 38, 117, 120, 180, 181; aesthetic radicalism 30; anti-naturalistic theatre 49–50; bends versus 137–143; construction of 68; definition 43–44; dissemination of 64; diverse use of 66, 105; diverse variants of 131; Eurocentric idea of 178; European and Indian variants of 80, 83; Fabel 42–43; “gestic” style of acting 50–52; Gestus 41–42; and intercultural theatre 91; interrupting Parsi theatre 45; left-wing intellectuals 28; metatheatre settings 48–49; modern Indian theatre 31–37; montage 40–41; multi-linguistic

narratives 53–54; music as alienation 47–48; new street theatre 143–153; pharmakonic identity of 90; pharmakonic nature of 74, 111, 112, 118, 176; pharmakonic quality of 130; poetics and politics of 65, 175; post-Brechtian aesthetics 153–167; reconfiguring 3–8; regionalisation of 114; “regional” strain of 177; resisting roots movement 52–53; “scientific rationalism in literature” 29; situating 8–13; static character of 104; Sufaid Kundali 67; Sutradhar, as Verfremdungseffekt 45–47; theatrical constructs 179; urban variant of 126; Verfremdungseffekt 39–40; Western model of 99 Brecht on Performance (Brecht) 4 Brecht on Theatre (Brecht) 4, 57n30 Brook, Peter 123, 141, 167n4 Buckwitz, Harry 120, 121 capitalist social system 77 Carlson, Marvin 30, 120 carnivalesque 65, 68–70, 73, 83, 176 The Caucasian Chalk Circle (Brecht) 10, 11, 28, 68, 90, 140 centralised nationalism 115 Chakrabarty, Dipesh 8, 80, 179; Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference 13 Charandas Chor (Tanvir) 68, 128, 131n2, 132n23 Chattopadhyay, Soumitra 35 classical Sanskrit theatre 32, 37, 144 Communist Party of India 29, 92, 138 content-based street theatre 137 conventional Brechtian aesthetics 138– 141, 144, 148, 153, 156, 161, 167 “Courage Model 1949” 169n15 “critical spirit” 28, 29 Crossan, John 119, 132n14 culinary theatre 37 cultural nationalism 74, 82, 83 cultural resistance 175 Dabashi, Hamid 178 daemonization 16n1 Dalmia-Lüderitz,Vasudha 47, 48, 50 Dalmia,Vasudha 18n12, 44, 57n29, 57n35, 84n4; Poetics, Plays, and Performances:The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre 19n12 Darstellung 6 Daussà-Pastor, Boris 17n11, 18n11 Döblin, Alfred 154

Index  185 “deradicalisation of Brecht” 9 Derrida, Jacques 3, 16n4, 28 Deshpande, Govind 144 Deshpande, Sudhanva 9, 168n11 Dessau, Paul 120 “developmentalist thought” 179 Dharwadker, Aparna 17n11, 30, 55n3–55n5, 84n4, 98; Theatres of Independence: Drama,Theory and Urban Performance in India Since 1947 11–13 dialectical style of acting 50 Diamond, Elin 165 Dimitrova, Diana 33 diverse theatre traditions 175 Dowry Prohibition Act 98 Dramatic Performances Act of 1876 92, 106n4 Dutt, Michael Madhusudan: Ekei Ki Bale Sabhyata 34 Dutt, Utpal 49, 168n6 Duve, Freimut 94, 95 Eisenstein, Sergei 40 Eisler, Hanns 75, 103 Ekei Ki Bale Sabhyata (Dutt) 34 The Elephant Calf 17n10 Enact 10 Engel, Erich 96, 169n14 Enlightenment of Marxism 43 Entfremdung 39, 56n19 “epistemic disobedience” 179 epistemic racism 178, 180 epistemological uncertainty 141, 154–156, 159 Esleben, Joerg 17n11, 91 Esslin, Martin 37; Brecht: A Choice of Evils 19n13 European Brechtian aesthetics 68 The Exception and the Rule 35 Fabel 42–43, 75, 76, 82, 97 “falsification of reality” 96 Fischer-Lichte, Erika 106n3 Foucauldian discourse of “similarity” 15 Foucauldian similarity 99 Foucault, Michel 6, 12, 14, 64, 138, 176 Gandhi, Indira 20n21, 113, 127, 130, 132n24, 132n25, 133n25 Gandhi, Leela 16n2 Gargantua and Pantagruel (Rabelais) 69 Gargi, Balwant 10, 11, 57n25, 84n2, 93 gender 142, 161–167 Gerow, Edwin 86n21

Gesamtkunstwerk 66 Gestic realism 7, 15, 49, 65, 74, 90, 92, 93, 96, 103, 104, 111, 176 Gestic style of acting 50–52 “gestic” style of acting 50–52 Gestus 15, 41–42, 51, 56n21, 65, 90, 91, 122–126, 164–166; and Bennewitz’s production 96–105 Gestus of darshan 113, 120, 122, 124, 126 Ghosh, Arjun 168n12 Gilbert, Helen: Post-Colonial Drama: Theory, Practice and Politics 13 Giles, Steve 38, 76 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 37, 56n17 Gómez, Rosa 47 The Good Person of Szechwan 111, 137, 140, 162 Grimm, Reinhold 17n6, 38, 39, 42 grotesque realism 73 Grotowski, Jerzy 167n4 Grundgestus 103 Gupt, Somnath 32, 47, 48, 55n6, 55n8; The Parsi Theatre 55n11 Handke, Peter 150 Hansen, Kathryn 48, 55n9, 55n11 Harishchandra, Bharatendu 33, 92, 168n6 Hashmi, Safdar 20n22, 93, 127, 132n19, 139, 140, 143–145, 147, 149–153, 167, 168n11; Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain 15, 146, 177 Haug, Wolfgang Fritz 57n33 Hegelian thesis 38 Heyman, Micheal 69 Himmat Mai 13, 15, 18n12, 141, 158, 161–162, 167n3, 177 Hindi Natak aur Rangmanch:Brecht Ka Prabhav (Vashishtha) 18n12 Hindi Upanyas par Paschatya Prabhav 1 Hindustani Theatre 10, 14, 28, 64, 66–68, 76, 78, 79, 81, 84n2, 84n8, 85n10, 85n19, 176 Hindustani Theatre: A Monthly Journal of the Arts (Zaidi) 10, 84n2 Home and the World (Tagore) 17n10 “the human sensorium” 123 Hurwicz, Angelika 51 hybridity 2, 43, 112, 139, 143 Ibsen, Henrik 67 India: A Wounded Civilization (Naipaul) 133n25 Indian aesthetics 33, 47, 65, 66, 69, 73, 75, 79–81, 83, 84n8; constructing 118–126

186 Index Indian Brechtian theatre 29, 44, 48, 54 Indian Communist Party 7 Indian nationalism 66, 116 Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) 7, 19n12, 29, 30, 34–36, 92, 168n6 Indian poetic realism 65 Indian political identity 54 Indian political theatre 96 Indian stage, performing Brecht on: Agra Bazaar and subversive Indian theatre 68–74; Sufaid Kundali (Sathyu) 64–68, 74–84 Indian system of aesthetics 122 Indian theatre: modern 31–37; postcolonial 2, 72, 144; postindependence 4, 30, 50, 68, 175; subversive 65, 68–74, 83; traditional 48, 65–67, 69, 73, 74, 82, 90, 104, 105n2, 140, 144, 146 Indian theatrical traditions 13, 67, 175, 176 indigenous theatre traditions 31, 71, 176 indigenous traditions 37, 53 influence see Anxiety of Influence Innes, Christopher 34 intercultural performance 17n11, 106n3 “interpretive system” 141 “interweaving performance cultures” 106n3 IPTA see Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) Isherwood, Christopher 120 Jackson, Anthony: The Repertory Movement: A History of Regional Theatre in Britain 131n12 Jain, Kirti 72 Jakobson, Roman 12 Jameson, Frederic 17n7, 45 Jamoora 73, 146 Jana Natya Manch 132n19, 138, 143, 147, 168n11, 168n12 John, David 91 jootis 164, 165 Joyce, James 154 Kafka, Franz 154 Kalb, Jonathan 167n4 Kallinatha 33 Kamath, Rekha 18n12 Kapur, Anuradha 48, 138, 162 Kathakali 18n11, 66 Korsch, Karl 17n7 Kruger, Loren 30

left-wing intellectuals 28, 93 Lehrstücke 42, 56n22, 56n23, 76, 152 linguistic polyphony 166 “literary technique” 139, 144, 145, 148, 153 Little Clay Cart (Shudraka) 67 lokadharmi 32, 33 Loomba, Ania 114 Lorca, Federico Garcia: Birjis Qadar Ka Kunba 162 Lukács, Georg 106n6 Lutze, Lothar 9, 19n13, 47 Macbeth 158 Madari-Jamoora 139, 144–148, 153 Maharaj, Birju 163 Malick, Javed 126 Malik, Hafeez 55n1 Man Equals Man (Brecht) 17n10 Marx 5, 6 Marxism 17n9, 35, 38, 43, 155, 156, 161 Mathur, J.C. 84n8 Mee, Erin 31, 32, 37, 52, 56n15, 57n34, 85n17, 116 Mehta, Tarla 33 metatheatre settings 48–49 The Midnight Children 133n25 Millia, Jamia 69 mise-en-scène 81, 82, 165 Mishra, Lakshmi Narayan 32 Mitra, Dinabandhu 92; Nil Darpan 34, 35, 92 Mitra, Shayoni 37, 56n14 modern Indian theatre: Bengali theatre and IPTA 34–36; naturalistic theatre 32–34; Parsi theatre 31–32; theatre of roots 36–37 Mohan, Manoj 168n6 montage 40–41, 145, 154 Mother Courage and Her Children (Brecht) 153–155, 162 Mudrarakshas 67, 131n10 Mueller, Roswitha 42 Müller, Heiner 141, 155, 158, 167n4 multi-linguistic narratives 53–54 Mumford, Meg 33, 34, 41, 42, 57n32 Munch, Edvard 159 music, as alienation 47–48 Nacha style of acting 123 Naipaul,V.S.: India: A Wounded Civilization 133n25 Nana Sahib 55n7 Narayan, Jaya Prakash 132n25

Index  187 Natarang 10 “national ideologies” 9 nationalist movements 50, 54 national theatre movement 35 naturalism 32–34, 93, 104, 124 naturalistic mode 34 naturalistic theatre 3, 14, 32–34, 41, 44, 49, 50, 54, 65, 66, 70, 71, 73, 78, 80–81, 83, 93, 104, 126 natyadharmi 33, 55n12, 56n12 Natyasastra (Bharata) 13, 33, 44, 52, 55n12 Natyasastra tradition 35, 52 Natya:Theatre Arts Journal 19n14 Nautanki 11, 18n12, 19n15, 65, 70–71 Nav Nirman Andolan 168n6 Naya Theatre 36, 113 Neher, Caspar 96 Nehru, Jawaharlal 28, 29, 36, 55n1, 84n2, 95 Nehruvian socialism 28, 29, 37, 44 new street theatre 15, 137, 138, 143–153, 167, 177 Nil Darpan (Mitra) 34–35, 92 non-Aristotelian theatre 39 non-mimetic device 97 Novum Organum (Bacon) 17n7 nukkad natak 7, 143, 168n6 one-model adaptation approach 131 Orientalism (Said) 178 Orr, Mary 5 orthodox Brechtian aesthetics 15, 138–140, 142, 143, 150, 151, 153, 154, 161, 162, 167, 177 Otto, Teo 120 Pandey, Gyanendra 67 Parsi theatre 14, 31–32, 34, 36, 44–49, 52–54, 55n6, 55n7, 55n9, 55n11, 57n29, 57n35, 67, 68, 83, 92, 163 The Parsi Theatre (Gupt) 55n11 Patil, Anand 34 people’s theatre 35, 36, 49, 73, 113, 116, 123, 127–131, 140, 144 peripheralisation 178 Phaedrus (Plato) 3, 16n4 pharmakon 3, 13, 16n4, 28, 91, 138, 178, 179, 181 pharmakonic character of Brechtian theatre 3–5, 8, 11, 14, 16, 28, 31, 44, 66, 68, 74, 83, 103, 105, 111, 112, 118, 141, 143, 151, 153, 155, 167, 175, 176 pharmakonic identity 31, 65, 139

pharmakonic nature 44, 54, 74, 111, 118, 137, 139, 148, 151, 176 Pinney, Christopher 122, 123 Plato: Phaedrus 3, 16n4; Symposium 168n10 poetic realism 65, 66, 71, 73, 74, 78, 81–83, 85n8, 90, 93, 104, 105n2, 176 Poetics (Aristotle) 40 Poetics, Plays, and Performances:The Politics of Modern Indian Theatre (Dalmia) 19n12 political radicalism of Brechtian theatre 30 political theatre 2, 9, 14, 36, 37, 40, 51, 54, 66, 99, 105, 111, 116, 138, 143, 144; conventions of 90; in India and Brecht 92–96; movement 35; urban 31; urban models of 130; using Brechtian aesthetics, creating 115 politicising Brecht: Gestus and Bennewitz’s production 96–105; political theatre in India and Brecht 92–96 post-Brechtian aesthetics 138, 141, 153–167 post-Brechtian theatre 15, 137, 138, 141, 143, 154, 155, 167, 177 Post-Colonial Drama:Theory, Practice and Politics (Gilbert & Tompkins) 13 postcolonial Indian theatre 2, 72, 144 “post-imperial Brechts” 30 “post-independence Brechts” 30 post-independence Indian theatre 4, 30, 50, 68, 175 post-independence tradition 30 Prakash, Gyan 143, 168n5 pre-colonial theatre traditions 67 Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference (Chakrabarty) 13 Rabelais: Gargantua and Pantagruel 69 Raghavabhatta 78, 79 Raghavan,V. 84n8 Raina, M.K. 10 Rakesh, Mohan 32, 33 realistic acting system 32 “reek of essentialism” 4 regional identities 115, 116, 129 “regionalisation” 114, 115 regionalising Brecht in India: constructing Indian aesthetics 118– 126; towards people’s theatre 127–131 regional poetics 113

188 Index regional scholarship 17n11 regional theatre 114 Rehearsals of Revolution:The Political Theater of Bengal (Bharucha) 17n11 The Repertory Movement: A History of Regional Theatre in Britain (Rowell and Jackson) 131n12 “Repressive State Apparatus” 127 The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui 140 The Revolutionary Stage (Zeigler) 131n12 Robbe-Grillet, Alain 99 Rohmer, Rolf 91 roots movement 37, 44 Rowell, George: The Repertory Movement: A History of Regional Theatre in Britain 131n12 Rushdie, Salman 133n25 Said, Edward: Orientalism 178 Samarth Ko Nahi Dosh Gusain (Hashmi) 15, 146, 177 Sangita-ratnakara 33 Sarkar, Sumit 29 Satchidanandan, K. 18n11 Sathyu, M.S. 6, 84n5, 85n8; Sufaid Kundali 10, 13, 64–68, 74–84, 85n10, 115, 176 “Satyavachi Vashikaran” 147 Schechner, Richard 18n11 Schiller, Friedrich 37, 56n17 Schoeps, Karl-Heinz 56n24 Schumacher, Ernst 158 “scientific rationalism” 28 Sen, Amartya 3, 17n5 Shahar Ashob 72 Shajapur ki Shantibai (Tanvir) 15, 111, 118, 127, 128, 176 Shakuntala 67, 78 Sharma, Narendra 67 Shaw, G.B. 67 Shen Teh 113, 118–120, 162, 163 Shohat, Ella 114 “Short Organon” (Brecht) 56n18 Shudraka: Little Clay Cart 67 Shui Ta 112, 113, 118–121, 126–130, 132n22, 133n25, 163 Sikri, Surekha 96 Singh, Bhagat 129 Singh, Manohar 156, 158, 162, 163 Smith, Martin F. 8 socialist realism 92, 95, 96, 106n5 “socially critical stance” 103–104 socio-political realities 16 Sontag, Susan 156 soviet diplomacy in India 29

Spivak, Gayatri 5 Srivastava, Bhuvaneshvar Prasad 32 Stam, Robert 114 Stanislavski, Konstantin 50 Sternberg, Fritz 38 Sthayibhava 47 street theatre 137, 138, 140, 141, 143, 144, 151; Indian 141, 144, 145, 153; traditional 150 Strehler, Giorgio 104 style of acting 19n15, 32, 163; Brechtian 116; Gestic 50–52; Indian 115; Nacha 123 subversive Indian theatre 65, 68–74, 83 Sufaid Kundali (Sathyu) 10, 13, 64–68, 74–84, 85n10, 115, 176 Sutradhar 45, 46 Suvin, Darko 119 symbolism 34 Szondi, Peter 46 Tagore, Rabindranath 133n25; Home and the World 17n10 Tanvir, Habib 10, 18n12, 49, 66, 84n2, 84n5, 85n8, 85n14, 85n17, 111–131, 131n2, 132n21, 133n25, 140, 166, 177; Agra Bazaar 64–65, 68–74, 85n15, 111, 144; Charandas Chor 68, 128, 131n2, 132n23; The Good Person of Szechwan 137; Shajapur ki Shantibai 15, 111, 118, 127, 128, 176 Tanvir, Moneeka 67 Teen Take Ka Swang 15, 96, 111, 176 Thapaliyal, Mohan 18n12 The Theatre of E. Alkazi 97 Theatres of Independence:Drama,Theory and Urban Performance in India Since 1947 (Dharwadker) 11–13 “theatrical idiom” 14 Thiong’o, Ngugi wa 12, 20n17, 168n7 Thomas, Brandon 67 The Threepenny Opera 17n10, 76, 94–96, 104, 152 Tolstoy, Leo 106n6 Tompkins, Joanne: Post-Colonial Drama: Theory, Practice and Politics 13 traditional Brechtian aesthetics 137, 143, 145, 148, 153, 157, 167 traditional Indian theatre 48, 65–67, 69, 73, 74, 82, 90, 104, 105n2, 140, 144, 146 transcultural adaptation 12 A Tribute to Bertolt Brecht (Allana) 18n12

Index  189 vachik abhinaya 73 vakyabhinaya 33 Vashishtha, Suresh: Hindi Natak aur Rangmanch:Brecht Ka Prabhav 18n12 vatsalya rasa 78 Verfremdung 39, 56n19, 57n25, 160 Verfremdungseffekt 17n11, 18n11, 39, 48, 76, 148, 158; sutradhar as 45–47 Vernacular Act of 1878 106n4 Vernacular Press Act of 1878 92 Vertretung 5, 6 Weber, Carl 10, 90, 94, 95, 103 Weigel, Helene 84n3, 156, 159, 169n14 Weill, Kurt 94, 104 Weiss, Peter 141, 167n4

Western theatrical traditions 117, 155, 175, 179 Witt, Mary 152 Wolf, Friedrich 106n8 Zaheer, Sajjad 55n1, 55n2 Zaidi, Begum Qudsia 67, 74, 84n2, 131n10 Zaidi, Shama 19n15, 66, 67, 85n9; Hindustani Theatre: A Monthly Journal of the Arts 10, 84n2 Zazzali, Peter 168n4 Zeigler, Joseph Wesley: The Revolutionary Stage 131n12 Zhdanov, Andrei 106n5