Sircar’s script is engaging at various levels.  It was translated and performed in many regional languages. I had read the English version Beyond the Land of Hattamala, published by Seagull Books in 2003. Amusingly, the script works at dual levels—it functions as a fun play for children, while it also works for adults. At the literal level, it is a fantasy tour of two characters who don’t get the logic of the land.

Hattamalachya Palyad  has been performed in unlikely settings like a pre-primary school courtyard in Madgaon and the prestigious MOG stage

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At the deeper level, it is an investigation into the everyday materialism in human exchanges? Can we be better off, if money doesn’t dictate our decisions? The script provokes thought and enquiry in our everyday exchanges. Like most of Sircar plays, it is against the establishment; it is also reminiscent of an era when Sircar launched the angan manch, which defied the proscenium and encouraged direct communication with the audience.  Many theatre bigwigs from Maharashtra have espoused Badalda’s theatre philosophy, and have mounted his celebrated plays—the most iconic Juloos is topmost in my memory.  

As I couldn’t have immediately flown to Pilerne, Goa, to catch Theatre Flamingo’s 2022 version of the original Sircar play, I opted for the next best thing—speak to the young adapter and the Goa-based actors of the Marathi play Hattamalachya Palyad  (Beyond the Land of Hattamala) about their future plans for the theatre-going crowd in India.  Some of the video clips of the new play floating in cyberspace, have raised my expectations. The group is planning a summer tour to Mumbai, Kolhapur, Pune and adjacent cities.  It has so far had 18 shows—three in Pune and 15 in various parts of Goa, mostly villages in the South. It was performed in unlikely settings like the Jatra in Tambdi Surla, a pre-primary school courtyard in Madgaon and the prestigious MOG stage where art connoisseurs and Pilerne locals appreciated the Konkani expletives in Hattamalachya Palyad.

The play executes director Mahesh Khandare’s Daha by Vees theatre philosophy, which literally translates to “10 feet by 20 feet” minimalistic endeavour, resting on low-maintenance props and moderate sound-light-stage demands. In fact, the play has been appreciated because of its low-on-logistics vibes. MOG founder-director Subodh Kerkar feels that Hattamalachya Palyad is an ideal post-pandemic no-frills theatre.  “In an hour and ten minutes, three actors underscore the possibility of a demonetised life.  Often mega-scale fancy productions are unable to achieve the impact that this low-budget drama manages. I am happy to host it more than once.” Kerkar was taken in by the intelligent use of the ghumat—Goa’s trademark earthen vessel musical instrument—in the performance.  The instrument is a cultural add-on in the translated script, evoking the Goan musical flavour.  As Kerkar says, the play becomes more memorable because of its peppy lyrics.

For this columnist, Hattamalachya Palyad presented an opportunity to engage with an under-26 theatre repertory—mostly constituting ex-students of Pune’s Lalit Kala Kendra Gurukul.  The group was keen on doing justice to the emotion, context and idiom of the original creation by a formidable Indian playwright. Twenty five-year-old Marathi writer-translator, Aniruddha Deodhar, who is reasonably fluent in Bengali, says the process of transcreation was collaborative. The performance was shaped in the residential TF Lab workshop space at the beginning of this year.  The director and the actors added to the translated text, which is why the “real final devised script” remains elusive, informs Deodhar.  For instance, the identifiable tune of the popular Konkani rhyme Undir mama ailo, ani khati puna liplo has given way to Firun firun ata amhi alo tumchya dari. It evoked a popular response in the Goa shows, and worked in Maharashtra too. But the cast will underplay the Konkani elements elsewhere. Interestingly, there is a rich impromptu mix of Hindi and English in the dialogues, which makes the play relevant for any Indian audience.  In one defining moment when the two thieves seem lost in the land where money doesn’t matter—the Javed Akhtar signature line Yeh kahaan aa gaye hum brings an instant chuckle. 

The play is not set against a defined backdrop, and neither are the three actors—Shravan Fodnekar, Pranav Tengse and Parajkta Kavlekar—rooted in a social milieu. Kavlekar, 26, who plays 11 characters, including a toddler, an old woman, and sundry others who meet the thieves in the fantasy land, says Hattamalachya Palyad is liberating in a special sense.  “As I [she plays the various villagers] and the thieves move on stage, we start a collective journey—the one which playwright Badal Sircar intended for us, as Indians. We explore a life that is beyond material means, a land where no one is hoarding any resource or gobbling up another’s share. It was a blessing to even imagine such a prospect,” says the actor, who has done her Masters in Theatre and who also was part of the performing arts faculty in a college at Ponda until recently.

Badal Sircar is among the most influential Indian thespians who impacted successive generations. His playwriting runs parallel with Vijay Tendulkar in Marathi, Girish Karnad in Kannada and Mohan Rakesh in Hindi. His fan following too, extends to diverse practitioners—Mira Nair to Satyadev Dubey.  

Anjum Katyal’s book Badal Sircar: Towards A Theatre of Conscience mentions the all-time favourite translated Badalda plays (Evam Indrajit, Baki Itihas, Pagla Ghoda) mounted by amateur and seasoned theatre groups across India over the years. The book mentions the various corners where Badalda is perennially represented in one way or another. Few playwrights remain at the centre for so many years.

Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text.  You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@mid-day.com