Gritty and politicised: A scene from Khowabnama

Ganakrishti’s Natya Utsav, now in its fifth year, has crystallised three different facets: one aspect imported from outside the state, one of local representation, and one of Bengali productions from the districts. Among these, the last-named sets this theatre festival apart from all others in Calcutta, because Ganakrishti makes a point of giving equal footing to district participants, thereby encouraging them.

For instance, it asked Kalyani Natyacharcha Kendra to premiere their latest work at the festival — quite an honour. The group debuted just six years ago, with Akhtaruzzaman Elias’ Chilekothar Sepai, and returns to that Bangladeshi novelist with Khowabnama, dramatised by Samir Dasgupta. A much more ambitious project, this rural epic realistically depicts grim survival among peasants, zamindari oppression, prelapsarian communal amity, and tension between fishermen and sharecroppers, all against the backdrop of the Tebhaga agitation. Compared to Jasimuddin’s pastoral romanticism, Elias is more gritty and politicised, sparing neither the Hindu zamindar nor the Muslim caste system.

Director Kishore Sengupta manages the sprawling canvas, large cast of 30 and accented dialect meticulously. Everyone performs not just well, but with a motivated conviction of their individual characters. Shekhar Gupta is particularly striking as the rickety old father who hallucinates and drowns. However, one notices the obvious hand of Calcutta stars like Suman Mukherjee (in ensemble acting), Gautam Halder (songs) and Sanchayan Ghosh (set). Sengupta must cultivate Kalyani talent rather than allow it to get swamped by others’ styles from the big city.

Natyakarmee, from Balurghat, provides a charming attempt at reviving the folk form of Jhumur — native to the Dinajpur region from which the troupe hails — in its script by the same name. Hardly a play, Jhumur begins with an elongated mela sequence, merely killing time before the main presentation of a Jhumur song-duel. Unusually, a woman (Nupur Hore) instead of a man takes on all comers in the battle of wits, though she suffered from a bad voice at the show. Her challengers, a dhobi (Amit Saha) and his friend (Pranatosh Bhattacharya), actually sang better. Prodosh Mitra’s direction and music are ably executed.

Hindi and Urdu theatre dominated the non-Bengali section, but neither of those two plays was new. Bansi Kaul’s Sidhi Dar Sidhi urf Tukke Par Tukka dates to 1996, while Shankar Shesh wrote his Ek Aur Dronacharya as far back as three decades ago.

Kaul’s company, Rang Vidushak from Bhopal, single-mindedly explores comic traditions of Indian theatre. This policy has led them to paint themselves into a corner in the past, though it has also helped them create some innovative productions. Sidhi Dar Sidhi falls in the latter category. Scripted by Kaul and Rajesh Joshi in Urdu, it is an indigenous carnivalesque example of the “lord of misrule” archetype worldwide, whereby a bumpkin turns king, upsetting the scheme of things. Theatre anthropologists argue that such comedies perform the social function of a social valve, allowing the underdog to enjoy the temporary fantasy of usurping his master’s place, while enabling much scope for satire of administrative misdeeds.

Here, Kaul gives the formula a political twist. His antihero (the experienced Uday Shahane) is the uneducated son of a zamindar, who gets a job in the durbar, officiates as idiotically as the nawab, and ultimately becomes the new nawab. Thus Kaul has a dig at Indian politicians, as well as exposes the dangers of illiteracy. His spectacular direction specialises in elaborate and acrobatic group choreography of the clowns, in colourful costumes and makeup designed by Farid Bazmi and to strong music composed by Anjana Puri (herself a powerful singer). Arunima Nath and Debarthi Majumdar occasionally slipped into Bengali dialogue, surprising us with the novelty.

The group Udayan from Nagpur staged Shesh’s Ek Aur Dronacharya, which places Drona’s story diametrically alongside the life of a college teacher today. The scenes flash back and forth between classical and contemporary times: the relative poverty of both protagonists, the offer of princely gurudom to Drona and principalship to the teacher, Drona’s rejection of Ekalavya and the teacher’s of a framed student, Drona’s non-intervention in Draupadi’s disrobing and the teacher’s in a rape case, and the final tragedy of both, Drona in battle and the teacher in court.

Abhijit Guru, the director, brings out the ethical topicality of the drama, underscoring the shameful compromises made by an upright man in a position of authority, lured by temptation. However, the acting remains amateurish, with Rahul Fadnis looking and behaving rather wooden in his double role as hero.