A
Wake – Up Call to Thinking People: Review of Budhhijibi
As
the cast of Budhhijibi took the final
bow, Mir stepped up to thank the audience and remind them of the play’s next
showing. He announced: “আমরা আগামী ২৬ এ জুলাই তপন থিয়েটারে বুদ্ধিজীবী র অরেকটি শো করব।Then added with a
slight chuckle “যদি আমাদের করতে দেয়!” (We
will have another showing of Budhhijibi at Tapan Theatre on 26th
July – if “they” let us).
Mir’s
mock-nervousness could well have a grain of truth because Budhhijibi is a scathing
satire on the current political anarchy in West Bengal. Renouncing a neat
story line, the play moves ahead through a series of conversations, primarily
between father (Mir) and son (Saurav Palodhi). Tublu (Saurav), an apparent
simpleton, lists a series of unfamiliar words. As his father explains
“democracy”, “politbureau”, “chameleon” etc, each explanation becomes a
springboard for a scathing exposure of a political scandal or corruption. The
socio-political critique is replete with ironically dark humour. Tublu keeps
hearing “politricks” when his father says “politics”. Irritated, his father
yells, “It’s POLITICS, you fool!” Tublu naively asks, “Are you sure there are
no “tricks” in it?” Such puns abound, drawing roars of laughter and claps from
the audience.
Equally
hilarious are allusions to recent political events. Frustrated by a bad cell
phone signal, a goon-turned-politician threatens, “আব্বে, বাড়িতে ছেলে ঢুকিয়ে দেব, সব নেটওয়ার্ক কেটে দিয়ে চলে আসবে!" Tublu’s sister, Tuki, is ordered to recite
a poem at a local programme where the chief guest is “Dida Pishi”. No points
for guessing who “Dida Pishi” represents! Irked, Tuki’s father asks her to
recite “উলঙ্গ রাজা” at the event. Tuki stutters through a few lines before she
is booed off stage. Dida Pishi’s electrifying speech follows with a solemn
pledge to support “মা ,মাটি, মানুষ্”. An imaginary crowd, off-stage, breaks
into thunderous applause. Tublu is ashamed of Tuki’s failure before he realizes
that “Dida Pishi” was reading off a paper. In bewilderment he asks, “আমার বোন তো তাও ৪টে লাইন মুখস্থ বলেছিল।দিদা পিসি তো পড়া মুখস্থও করেনি। তাহলে আমার বোনকে কেন নামিয়ে দিল? In despair, he asks the audience,
“তোমরা কেউ বলতে পার?"
For a large chunk of the play, the protagonists speak directly to the
audience. At one point, Tublu jumps off the stage and blends into the darkened
theatre, rattling off his lines. In a similarly unconventional vein, various
cast members, at times, shed their characters to become the voice of collective conscience, mouthing slogans and commentaries. At
other points, poems echo on a dark, empty stage, lashing out at corruption and
hypocrisy in party politics.
Music
and lighting aid the process. “ভালো জনে রইলো ভাঙা ঘরে" from হিরক রাজার দেশে , rendered in full-throated baul style, enhances poignant
moments. Encapsulating the irony of Tublu and his family, the song “কিচ্ছু পারিনা” offers the perfect denouement for the play. The actor who played
Kunal/Khepada, a mentally deranged man, is also a gifted singer and guitarist.
His guitar strings reverberate with indignation, anger or pathos, perfectly in
tune with the mood of a scene or a character. Lights, at times, literally
embody the political critique, apart from creating moods. In one scene where
Mir’s character laments people’s shifting political allegiances, his figure is literally cut down the middle by green and red lights from opposite
directions.
Stage props are potent symbols. Graphiti painted on the back wall capture the absurdity of our times. Flaming, red slogans, proclaiming “poribartan”, lie glibly beside injunctions against urinating
in public. Tall partitions on stage are decked up with red hand prints.But
this abundance of red does not make the
play a propaganda for C.P.M. It is a collage of a grim age, succinctly captured
in Tublu’s father’s refrain: “দিনকাল ভালো নয়!” In these dark times, the
so-called buddhijibis (thinking people), organize ineffective candle light
marches. As Tublu hurls a volley of questions in the final scene of the play,
these budhhijibis, dressed in spotless white, brandishing candles, stand silent
– their faces deliberately hidden behind impassive, white masks.
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| Photo Courtesy: Saurav Palodhi |
However,
it was unclear whether the silent figure, hovering behind characters, in
certain scenes, represented death or an ineffectual divinity. Tublu’s critique
of his father’s ill-treatment of his aged parents exposed the hypocrisy of a
man who spewed Leftist ideals. Nevertheless, these domestic issues did not
blend well with the largely political thrust of the play. Inclusion of family issues made the play over-sentimental, in places. But given the fact that this is only Icchemoto’s
fourth performance, these problems are easily forgiven. Able acting (especially by Saurav and Mir), Dodo's haunting music and above all, Sourav and Anurag's brilliantly satirical script reveal that this fledgling group holds every potential of becoming a major player in future.
