Dramatise it: The stage is set, but where are the players?
Pioneers of the field lament the lack of regard for theatre, one of the oldest art forms, in Pakistan.
Pioneers of the field lament the lack of regard for theatre, one of the oldest art forms, in Pakistan.
KARACHI:
“All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players.” These eternal words spoken by the great Shakespeare himself rang true at the session aptly titled ‘On Stage’ as the very protagonists of the theatre revolution in Pakistan spoke about their experiences on and off the stage over their timeless careers.
The panel could not have comprised a more able membership, with Madeeha Gauhar, Sheema Kermani and the versatile Shakeel – the very pioneers of the art form in Pakistan, seated in front of an anticipating audience.
“It is the art of telling stories,” explained Gauhar, as she started off the session in response to moderator, Zain Ahmed’s query regarding the essence of the art form. “When I first got involved in theatrical plays in the 70s, it was all about creating a space for ourselves, our ideas and our identity,” she reminisced.
Gauhar spoke painfully but fondly of General Zia’s tenure when theatre was subject to the worst form of censorship and the actors and playwright had to be arduously cautious in what and how they performed, lest they found themselves at the wrong side of the general’s stick. “It was the time when a single slip could land you in jail or worse. It was also the time when the wittiest of playwrights wrote plays for the bravest of actors,” she smiled. Simply put, theatre was a form of venting out for the artiste – a way she could protest the brutalities of the state. “Thirty years on, I continue to protest,” she said matter-of-factly.
Taking the cue from Gauhar, her equally qualified fellow panellist, Sheema Kermani, lunged head on into an emotional monologue of what theatre meant to her and why she had become so attached to it. It almost made one feel as if she was pleading the audience to help in her struggle to bring about a spark to the almost forgotten art-form. “These performances are stories – mine, yours, ours,” she said emphatically. Kermani revealed that her theatre group, Tehreek-e-Niswan, travelled to distant areas and listened to what stories people had to share. They then adapted these stories into plays which were performed in these very low-income neighbourhoods where the story had originated from. “We certainly struck a chord there,” she smiled. “There were audience members who used to weep openly when they saw the performances.”
A debate ensued within the context of the play. “It seemed our performance was forcing people to think, think of a way out of their problems,” she smiled.
Where the first two speakers had taken the audience to an almost magical journey of hope and success, the third panellist, Shakeel, brought them crashing down to earth. “In a country where citizens are desperate for the most basic of necessities, how do we expect people to indulge in the arts?” he seemed to ask himself. His manner of speech bespoke his disillusionment with the state and its bureaucratic mess. “Look what a playwright has to go through just to get his script approved. The script is pushed before a clerk who has never studied or is even closely associated to literature. The clerk, however reigns supreme and may strike off the whole script without giving any reason. This is the dilemma we are faced with today,” he lamented.
All is not lost though, Shakeel went on to say. “I salute Anwar Maqsood who has been successful in making Karachi’s citizens want to spend money to watch his plays. The National Academy of Performing Arts is another institution that is making its mark.”
What Shakeel stressed most was the need for the people to realise the importance of upholding and treasuring the legacy we have inherited in the form of these arts. “That is our ticket to the change we seek,” he said.
“All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players.” These eternal words spoken by the great Shakespeare himself rang true at the session aptly titled ‘On Stage’ as the very protagonists of the theatre revolution in Pakistan spoke about their experiences on and off the stage over their timeless careers.
The panel could not have comprised a more able membership, with Madeeha Gauhar, Sheema Kermani and the versatile Shakeel – the very pioneers of the art form in Pakistan, seated in front of an anticipating audience.
“It is the art of telling stories,” explained Gauhar, as she started off the session in response to moderator, Zain Ahmed’s query regarding the essence of the art form. “When I first got involved in theatrical plays in the 70s, it was all about creating a space for ourselves, our ideas and our identity,” she reminisced.
Gauhar spoke painfully but fondly of General Zia’s tenure when theatre was subject to the worst form of censorship and the actors and playwright had to be arduously cautious in what and how they performed, lest they found themselves at the wrong side of the general’s stick. “It was the time when a single slip could land you in jail or worse. It was also the time when the wittiest of playwrights wrote plays for the bravest of actors,” she smiled. Simply put, theatre was a form of venting out for the artiste – a way she could protest the brutalities of the state. “Thirty years on, I continue to protest,” she said matter-of-factly.
Taking the cue from Gauhar, her equally qualified fellow panellist, Sheema Kermani, lunged head on into an emotional monologue of what theatre meant to her and why she had become so attached to it. It almost made one feel as if she was pleading the audience to help in her struggle to bring about a spark to the almost forgotten art-form. “These performances are stories – mine, yours, ours,” she said emphatically. Kermani revealed that her theatre group, Tehreek-e-Niswan, travelled to distant areas and listened to what stories people had to share. They then adapted these stories into plays which were performed in these very low-income neighbourhoods where the story had originated from. “We certainly struck a chord there,” she smiled. “There were audience members who used to weep openly when they saw the performances.”
A debate ensued within the context of the play. “It seemed our performance was forcing people to think, think of a way out of their problems,” she smiled.
Where the first two speakers had taken the audience to an almost magical journey of hope and success, the third panellist, Shakeel, brought them crashing down to earth. “In a country where citizens are desperate for the most basic of necessities, how do we expect people to indulge in the arts?” he seemed to ask himself. His manner of speech bespoke his disillusionment with the state and its bureaucratic mess. “Look what a playwright has to go through just to get his script approved. The script is pushed before a clerk who has never studied or is even closely associated to literature. The clerk, however reigns supreme and may strike off the whole script without giving any reason. This is the dilemma we are faced with today,” he lamented.
All is not lost though, Shakeel went on to say. “I salute Anwar Maqsood who has been successful in making Karachi’s citizens want to spend money to watch his plays. The National Academy of Performing Arts is another institution that is making its mark.”
What Shakeel stressed most was the need for the people to realise the importance of upholding and treasuring the legacy we have inherited in the form of these arts. “That is our ticket to the change we seek,” he said.