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TRIBUTE
Luminous presence
SHANTA GOKHALE
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In the gloom cast by Vijay Tendulkar’s passing away stand his immortal characters, very much alive as moral reference points in our world.
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Others could have seen what he saw, for it was there for all to see… But others chose not to see. He not only saw, but was personally troubled by what he saw.
Photo: The Hindu Photo Library
VIJAY TENDULKAR: An honest look at the world around him.
In the gloom cast by Vijay Tendulkar simply ceasing to exist, there appears a luminous caravan of characters he has left behind for us. Created to explore questions that troubled him, situations that horrified him, conventional ideas that did not convince him, he allowed them the freedom to be themselves. They grew into believable flesh-and-blood human beings who inhabit our world today as reference points.
It is not that Tendulkar did not fall victim to the temptation of controlling his characters. In “Shrimant”, (The Wealthy) he was so blinded by anger against the arrogant hypocrisies of our society’s upper crust that he turned all his characters into pawns to advance his thesis that false facades mattered more to them than human beings, including their own deluded daughters. But “Shrimant” was only his second play. He was 23 then and barely two years old as a playwright. Although his characters were stereotypes, his passion for justice was genuine. And that gave this early play its raw power.
Revolutionary
“Shrimant” did something else. For the first time in the history of middle-class Marathi drama, it put on the stage an uncouth, arrogant man from the streets called Shridhar, and his escaped jailbird friend, Keshav. Never before had such a pair sat on the sofas of the genteel, using language that the delicate ears of the rich had never thought of hearing. The middle-class was not upset then. Firstly, because very few saw the play; and secondly, because they owed no class allegiance either to industrialist Dadasaheb’s family or to the gambler Shridhar who gave them their come-uppance.
But then came “Gidhade”. Here was a middle-class family behaving like vultures, out to grab property even if it meant murdering their father and kicking the foetus out of their pregnant sister’s womb to do so. It made the flesh creep. Even people who felt it was important to have their society vivisected in order to see how it worked, were horrified and repelled. But they understood. However, those who believed there was nothing wrong with their society or themselves, accused Tendulkar of sensationalism and screamed loudly for a ban on the play.
Before they could get over the shock of “Gidhade” came Sakharam, the foul-mouthed bookbinder who dared probe the very heart of the most cherished institution of the middle-class — marriage. Marriage, the only institution that makes television channel kitties brim over and spill, marriage, without which a woman’s life is supposed to be worthless, marriage, the only way for people to be “settled in life”, came in for the most unsettling treatment in Sakharam Binder’s life. The deal between him and the destitute women he brought home was straight. You have been thrown out by your husband. I have taken you in. My home may be a hovel but I am the unquestioned master here. I’ll give you shelter in return for wifely duties — you know what that means. In Sakharam’s opinion, his approach to the mutual needs of men and women was more honest than the regular husband’s. Husbands too extracted similar subservience and duties from wives but dressed the whole thing up with fancy ritual and ceremony.
Tendulkar’s idea of the exploitative nature of marriage was reflected in what turned out to be almost the central point in “Kamala”. The main body of the play comprised an inquiry into the mores of investigative journalism which appeared to be morally superior, but could turn out to be just as exploitative as the exploitation it condemned. However, its soul resided in the small question. that Kamala, the woman bought by the journalist to prove such things happen in our country, asks his wife Sarita: “How much did he buy you for?”
Tendulkar was always flummoxed and often deeply hurt by the attacks he came under. For him playwriting was often sheer play as in “Pahije Jaatiche” (It’s How You Are Made), a delightfully satirical look at small town politics or “Ashi Pakhare Yeti” which took its inspiration from “The Rainmaker” and, on the side, took the pants off the RSS. But at his most serious, he found his subjects in the world around him. Others could have seen what he saw, for it was there for all to see — the violence, the inequalities, gender discrimination, hollow institutions, hypocrisies. But others chose not to see. He not only saw, but was personally troubled by what he saw. His plays were genuine attempts to get to the roots of what disturbed him.
Looking ahead
“Ghashiram Kotwal” was his response to the problem he foresaw the Shiv Sena posing in years to come. Or at least that is how critics interpreted it because it hit the nail so precisely on the head. At the time of writing, the Congress was using the fledgling party to checkmate the Communists; but later it would grow, like Ghashiram, into a Frankenstein that would be impossible to control.
Vijay Tendulkar’s plays are for those who have the strength and honesty to see the world without rose-tinted glasses on. There is nobody on the horizon just yet to replace him as a passionate observer and commentator on the state of our world.
Shanta Gokhale is a theatre critic and writer based in Mumbai.
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