The first time I watched a performance of the shocking, path-breaking Jabbar Patel production of Vijay Tendul-kar’s scorcher of a play, Ghashiram Kotwal (1978 or thereabouts), I was completely blown away. I watched it again… and again. But that was a long, long time ago. I wish I could watch it once more, for it continues to remain as potent, as relevant and as subversive today, as it was 36 years ago. Tendulkar first wrote it in 1972 in response to the rise of the Shiv Sena. So strong was its impact, it faced a ban and generated enough controversy to fuel vociferous protests each time it was staged. It is a pity contemporary theatre lovers are denied the opportunity to share this extraordinary experience.
Whenever I run into Dr Mohan Agashe these days, I can only see Nana Phadnavis — the despicable, wily character he immortalised in the play. I asked Mohan why Ghashiram… has not been revived. The collective genius of so many highly gifted collaborators could easily attract corporate sponsors. But that hasn’t happened… for obvious reasons. There can be no other Nana Phadnavis, of course, and as Mohan pointed out wryly, the timing for a revival is also perfect.
Mohan brought spine-tingling ferocity and a sinister edge to his performance as the shrewd, sadistic, amo-ral minister in the court of the Peshwas, who stops at nothing to grab and wield absolute power in a weakened, hopelessly decadent state, dominated by rulers drunk on their own un-checked position of privilege.
As the play progresses, Phadnavis reduces the Peshwas to poor jokes of their earlier avatars. Agashe, making the most effective use of his thin, nasal voice and adopting a particular gait, conveyed just one thing — unbridled tyranny. Mohan was evil personified, his every entry marked by rhythmic music that prepared the audience for the vileness to follow. Patel brilliantly exploited the folk theatre tradition of “tamasha” in this riveting portrait of corrosive totalitarianism.
Abuse of power lends itself to artistic interpretations like few other subjects. Today, Maharashtra has demonstrated unambiguously that its people have risen against oppression and arrogance. Today’s Maharashtrian doesn’t really give a damn about traditional obsessions — ask the young voter in this election whether it matters a jot to him that the new chief minister of the state is a brahmin and not a Maratha, and chances are, you’ll get a bewildered look or a withering, scornful stare in return. Pegging political identity to the old “Marathi Manoos” script is old hat, irrelevant and an-noying. The new Mahara-shtrian is an aggressive, ambitious, results-driven voter. If anything, the old bogey of “outsider/insider” has been pushed aside in one sweep — and may it remain in the dustbin forever.
Since nothing is quite as effective in today’s social media driven times, as piquant, pointed satire, I watched a “Being Indian” video on YouTube which featured two “typical” Maharashtrian boys indulging in hilarious banter. Interestingly enough, they were merrily poking fun at familiar sacred cows.
The sarcastic script took everyone and everything apart, including that phoney “North Indians” paranoia mischievously unleashed on the city by political hoodlums. Which is why, it is vital for the newly minted Chief Minister to grab this God-given opportunity and undo the monumental mess in Maharashtra.
Devendra Fadnavis has a tough job ahead of him. He isn’t exactly 100 per cent kosher himself (there are a hefty 22 criminal cases against him, which include charges of assault, rioting and unlawful entry). He is an unknown entity in Mumbai, and is seen more as a Nagpur man. Narendra Modi called him “Nagpur’s gift to the country”. Earlier, that “gift” was identified with Nagpur oranges.
Once the Chariots of Fire roll out of the Wankhede Stadium and the maha drama of the ridiculously extravagant swearing-in ceremony (complete with Bollywood-style sets) is behind us, we will watch Mr Fadnavis closely. Of course, everybody knows the man has an omnipotent remote control (Amit Shah) monitoring his every move. Which may not be such a terrible thing, given the tattered condition of Maharashtra’s economy right now (at last count, the state was dealing with a debt of Rs 13 lakh crore). Mr Fadnavis comes with respectable educational credentials (a law degree, plus a post-graduate degree in business management). We know he is married to a working professional (ban-ker) and is the father of a precocious five-year-old daughter, rumoured to entertain guests with a faithful rendition of her father’s fiery political speeches!
Cleaning up the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) should be on top of the new Chief Minister’s priorities, for unless we get rid of the rot that has seen Mumbai’s descent into a putrid hell hole, nothing else is likely to change. How he tackles the nexus between his political rivals and the builders’ lobby (together they have looted and stripped not just Mumbai, but gigantic swathes of prime real estate across Maharashtra), will also define his relationship with a demoralised police force. As for corporate India, well… it doesn’t take time for our accommodating captains of industry to realign themselves to a new order. So long as Mr Fadnavis demonstrates a strong will to clean-up the massive devastation he has inherited, and does so transparently, the people of Maharashtra will whole-heartedly support his initiatives.
If Mr Fadnavis is as clever as Mr Modi thinks he is, he will leave the contentious Vidarbha issue alone for now.
This may be the turning point in Maharashtra’s fortunes. Expectations are running high. Mr Fadnavis is young (44), which is a big plus. He appears gregarious and outgoing. Will he be able to manage the various warring factions angling for key portfolios and positions? For that, the “go to” man ain’t our Devendra Fadnavis. It is the portly Amit Shah — rightly being described as the de facto chief minister of Maharashtra.
So let the party begin! No more “tamasha”. Only “tootaris”, please!
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