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Folk theatre changes face
Folk theatre changes face
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One of last year's popular plays from a 300-year-old Indian folk theatre
tradition was called I Am Miss Calcutta, a tacky parable about a policeman's
daughter who elopes with a flashy young man to rob the rich and feed the poor.
Then the law kicks in and the couple realizes that pillage is not the best way
to alleviate poverty. They also pledge to reform themselves.
I Am Miss Calcutta exemplifies the changing face of jatra (journey), a three-
centuries-old traveling theatre tradition hugely popular in the villages of
eastern India, particularly, Bengal and Orissa. Jatra usually consists of four-
hour-long, high-energy plays featuring loud music, harsh lighting and
extravagant props played out on giant stages under open skies. Indian epics and
mythological tales have traditionally been the staple fodder for jatra.
But with globalization and the advent of satellite television, jatra is telling
vastly different tales around what directors call "contemporary social
realities" and "sensational breaking news". So these days many of the new plays
served up by Calcutta's 55-odd jatra troupes are based on "breaking news events"
like London bombings, 9/11, the war in Iraq and a much-talked about execution of
a security guard.
Troupes like Digbijoy Opera hire in-house regulars and put out prompt, lavishly
mounted productions. But most plays revolve around what directors call present-
day social realities in India usually with, as play's director, Samir Sen says,
"powerful immortal Indian morals" - don't ape the West, respect your parents,
don't fight with your siblings, beauty is only skin deep and so on.
The colorful cinema-like posters in Calcutta's thriving and crumbling jatra
district of Chitpur Road reflect the fast-changing themes. A number of them
extol the virtues of a happy marriage with titles like Wife Number 1, You're The
Wife, You're The Mother, much like the plaintive stickers on many Indian taxis
and pedicabs which simply say 'No life without wife'.
Samir Sen, who owns a troupe called Bishwabharati Opera, says when he started
out 12 years ago most of his hit plays were mythological. "Sometime seven years
ago, it all changed. Villagers were becoming exposed to television soaps. Jatra
had to reflect the changing tastes. The stories now intercut from cities to
villages and reflect decline in morals, corruption in public life," he says.
The plays can also sometimes be risqué, going by some slightly lurid publicity
posters plastered all over Chitpur Road. "That is the Bollywood influence. A bit
of smoky bars, a bit of song and dance," says Haradhan Roy, director of Digbijoy
Opera, who is putting finishing touches to this winter's showcase production on
the London bomb attacks. Such productions cost anything up to $100,000 to set up
- after hiring props, technical expertise and ageing, out-of-work Bollywood
actors.
Critics say that jatra will lose its identity if this trend continues. "With
textual melodrama and sensationalism, traditional jatra is on its way out," says
one, who prefers to be unnamed. In the early days, jatra was sponsored by
wealthy farm landlords who would book troupes and invite them to stage their
plays to thousands of people in the villages. Oil lamps would often light up the
plays and the music marked by heavy percussion. [Source: BBC]
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