Mad about theatre
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GOWRI RAMNARAYAN looks at a book that captures the Kapoor family's devotion to theatre over three generations.
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ANU PUSHKARNA
The oldest Prithviwalla, Zohra Sehgal (Right), with Shashi Kapoor and the publisher Pradeep Kapoor (Left)at the launch of the book.
BOMBAY 1928. A strikingly handsome 21-year-old Pathan arrives by Frontier Mail, suitcase in one hand, his lucky hockey stick in the other. A fellow Pathan watchman lets him into the Imperial Studio. The leading star picks him out from a line of extras to partner her in the film. And Prithviraj Kapoor never looks back, he goes to play a crucial role in India's film and theatre history.
What a dramatic start! Presented by Shashi Kapoor with scribe Deepa Gahlot, Prithviwallahs sails smoothly through its 12 "scenes", set in three "Acts", each depicting different phases in the evolution of Prithvi Theatre, as a travelling theatre company under the patriarch (1944-60), and as a non-profit performance space to nurture talent launched in 1978, run by daughter-in-law Jennifer, and grandchildren Kunal and Sanjna.
A throw-back
Act I shows "Papaji" (Prithviraj Kapoor), a leading film star, obsessed with the theatre. "Prithviraj was a throw-back to the old time English actor-managers," says Geoffrey Kendal, who ran his theatre company along similar lines. "He loved it all — being a father figure, a great actor, the idol of all and sundry." His earnings from cinema are lavished on play productions, a permanent staff of artistes and technicians, including sons and nephews. When younger son Shammi's school principal objects to the boy's late nights on the stage, elder brother Raj simply pulls him out of school.
To Papaji theatre is a means of creating awareness, arousing patriotism, framing socially relevant, reformative goals as in "Deewar", "Pathan", "Ghaddar", "Kisan". He introduced realism and naturalism to the stage, cast a spell with his reverberant voice and imperious personality, and performed in every one of the 2,662 performances in 5,982 days. When chided by Prime Minister Nehru for not having an understudy, Papaji replied, "I know another like that. You!" Prithvi theatre had to close down in 1960, but its founder died with the hope of being able to start it again.
Carrying on
Son Shashi and daughter-in-law Jennifer carried that hope. Much of Shashi's earnings from cinema went into creating what has now become India's most beloved intimate theatre. It has played a major role in promoting Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati and Hindi drama in the city, by offering affordable performance space. The support was sustained through struggles and setbacks, lean audiences and leaner funds. Theatre became a creed almost. When Jennifer died of cancer, her last words were that the lights in Prithvi must keep burning. The book records her last days poignantly, without melodrama.
The book ends with the third generation of Kapoors. With Prithviraj and Geoffrey Kendal for grandfathers, how can Kunal and Sanjna not be committed to the theatre? They not only hold the fort, but also find new ways of survival and sponsorship, getting financial aid without selling the soul. Sanjna, who virtually grew up with Prithvi theatre, proved amazingly good at this unenviable task. The theatre widened its activities to remain busy round the year with art gallery exhibitions, children's theatre workshops, play readings, seminars. Its cafe is a hang-out for theatre buffs. Annual festivals — national, international, thematic or just Mumbai-based — have almost a cult following. Little platform performances offer the space and audience for experiments, for taking risks.
Naturally, the book's recollections of Papaji's days shine with idealism. However, the reader sees that the past is not lost, as second and third generation Kapoors are infected with the same madness. How else would they have built a theatre and nurtured a theatre movement?
When you close Prithviwallahs you realise that the book turns revolutionary happenings into an easy read, at the cost of depth may be, but not failing to communicate the excitements of chasing dreams. We see men and women believing that their actions make a difference to their world. And such is the force of their vision and endeavour that they actually do.
The tone is breezy enough, but its size makes the book a clumsy companion in bed. But that very format accommodates a better spread of pictures, old and new, not adventurously laid out, but each bristling with a story to be guessed, imagined, enjoyed.
A thespian's vision
Prithviwallahs shows actor/ filmmaker SHASHI KAPOOR'S uncanny resemblance to thespian father Prithviraj Kapoor in more than mere appearance. Here Shashi Kapoor talks about the theatre he built in his father's name, now 25 years old, committed to excellence and professionalism.
YOUR father Prithviraj Kapoor closed down his theatre company reluctantly, and died without fulfilling his dream of re-opening it. How did it feel when you built a theatre in his name and made his dream come true?
I completed his dream. That's true. But it was his vision. I only relived it. A privilege.
What was it like to recall old times for this book?
Very good. Exciting. But I had to depend a lot on other people's memories to get information about my father's work before I was born.
Building a theatre is not the easiest way of perpetuating your father's memory. What gave you the confidence to take it on?
My brother Raj, who was far more successful in cinema than I was, had father doing the puja in every RK Films production. I thought my homage, my shraddhanjali, should take shape as a theatre in the place where my father spent his last years. My wife Jennifer and I discussed the idea, and the burden of giving it concrete shape fell on her shoulders. We were very clear about one thing. The theatre had to be as comfortable for the actors as for the audiences. It had to have excellent acoustics, professional equipment and ambience. The best really.
Were you ever tempted to act on the Prithvi stage?
No. Jennifer and I wanted the theatre to promote aspiring talent, not ourselves. That is why we didn't run a theatre company, we provided performance space for young theatre groups.
Did you think that your children would fulfil your dream by running the theatre that you and your wife built to fulfil your father's dream?
I feel so proud. I'm grateful to God for making this happen! Kunal managed the theatre after Jennifer died, and then Sanjna took over and has been running it for the last 12 years.
What do you think of the theatre scene in Bombay today?
Far better than it ever was in the past. This year's Prithvi festival had 14 original productions, not a single translation or adaptation. This is something to rejoice in, to celebrate.
G.R.
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