Another play on Nati Binodini
. Nati Binodini,the name is pronounced today with a lot of respect, as a Prima Dona she was called in her hey days in end 18th and 19th century Bengal. This is because the word nati has changed its connotation. Today it means actress or the more gender neutral actor, a matter of glamour. It was not so in those times. It had a connotation of immorality, of an association with men of questionable character, and as is the norm in all ages, every such reference is suggestive of the opinion that anyone had the liberty of sleeping with her.
She was a great actor, this audiences would admit openly, People would flock to see her play roles of historical to religious to mythological characters, which come to life with songs and dances, that was, in today's parlance paisa wasool entertainment. But she mistook their adulation for recognition. She asked for too much. She asked for a stage dedicated to theatre built and named after her as B theatre. A theatre named after a harlot? You can't expect respectable people to go and watch theatre there! A bigger shock awaited her. Her colleagues in theatre including her mentor, Girish babu, forced her to become a kept for Gurmukh Ray, her then suitor, because in return, Ray would build a theatre named after her for them. When faced by rejection from the audience they turned on her once again to accept the name Star Theatre because she was a star, It was in her name only. they said.
Even after all this, such was her love for stage that she continued to perform at the very theatre that she had dreamt would be named after her and would be dedicated to theatre and theatre only, As her health deteriorated, she was gradually eased out of her roles and then from theatre itself.
In 1935, the building housing Star Theatre, caught fire and was completely gutted. It was restored in 2001 with the same name, structure and facade. But by then, Commercial theatre had itself lost out to Cinema and gradually most theatres had closed down. Star met the same fate. It has recently been named after Binodini as B Theatre, but sadly plays movies. The dreams of Noti Binodini for Binodini Theatre to be dedicated to the stage remain unfulfilled. Theatre workers are striving to make it come true.
To tell this story, the play has listed almost all the important events in Binodini's life, already known to most of us, serially as in a history book. This has slowed down the play, reduced the role of the protagonist, and made it overly lengthy. The curtain rose at 6.40pm that evening and finally came down at around 9.20 pm. After the curtain call before which the audience normally do not leave ,it was9.40pm, It could be cut down by half an hour at the least. The viewers, who are usually held spellbound by Sudipta Chakrabory when on stage, took time to clear their throats and having a look at their mobile screens, when the actions and dialogues become very predictable. In one scene, when Kumar Bahadur, her then paramour, leaves her on a boat, with a not very convincing promise to return in a few days, he collides with a piece o furniture. A lady seated near me predicts what we all thought ; he will not return, And true to her forecast, Binodini's mother steps on to the stage to tell her and the audience that Kumar Bahadur had got married to his family's chosen one at his village. What follows is Binodini's loud laments amid the equally loud audio-visuals of Kumar Bahadur getting married. Later, when Binodini is in distress, on a bed (God knows why a number of melodramatic sequences take place on that bed just because she had fallen ill on it sometime back. but that's another story) Kumar Bahadur walks through the half dark stage. The lady in the audience predicts once again, Binodini is having a dream. And Binodini;s mother once again comes on stage to confirm that Kumar Bahadur had died the night before. The curtain fell, marking half-time a little before that, after Binodini's public lament over her paramour's marriage. I think she was made of sterner staff.
I take this brief break to convey something different. During my previous era of enjoying plays, some ages back, really there were no mobile phones. Such a time actually existed. Now there is another demon called a smart phone which is never switched off by its owner. Only the ring volume is reduced to low by most of the audience. But the phone is so smart that, like a naughty child, it knows a thousand tricks to demand attention through whispered sighs and the sound of falling teardrops. And like a guilty mother, afraid of having hurt her ignored child you open the phone to face a brightly lit screen and immediately try to find out how many heavens have fallen down from the sky in these last few minutes. In a movie hall you look up at a brightly lt screen and hear thousands of watts of Dolby Atmos sound that can physically shake you if you are seated near a speaker. But a drama stage is mostly at your normal eye level, and below it if you are on the balcony. It is also not very bright and often dimly lit according to the scene. In a darkened and silent hall, even the sound of a mobile's vibration is quite irritating, let alone repeated bursts of light even from 10 rows in front of you or below. I know you cannot control your spontaneous outbursts, but you can definitely control your phone. I am sure, your worst fears wont come true during the two or two and half hours max if you switch off your phones for that period. A play asks just that much time from you, It is a live show, one for which you and your co audience have paid a sizeable amount of money and which you most probably would never watch a second time. Please tell your phone that you are the boss. I have actually seen a person discussing targets of a pan India sales campaign during the interval of a hindi play and leave midway after a couple of vibrations on his phone. HE was a boss, I don't know to how many sales persons but definitely to his phone.
I have seen young members of a well known theatre group,, made famous by their now deceased lead actress and director, some of whom even come on stage a few minutes later doublecheck politely before you enter the hall, that you have actually switched off your phone. There the audience of just about 60 + is almost on the stage in 8 rows ,each row a foot higher than the one in front. There are no seat numbers, only three classes. They lead you, if necessary ,as it was in my case, by holding your hand, to an empty seat in a darkened hall holding those black light torches. I was seated in the very front row, probably because of my age, beside a famous newspaper columnist, whom they called "didi". Music from the theatre was already playing under dim lights and Theatre itself was so imposing in the space that I could think of nothing but the sacred stage literally touching my naked feet. I was so nervous that a ring from my phone would be guillotines for me that I checked three times surreptitiously that my phone could not emit a sound under any circumstances. Now as I write I suddenly develop Goosebumps remembering that my phone sounds alarms even when switched off and I had alarms set in the evening for medicines. But I am relieved after a few seconds recalling that I had shut down the sound and vibration as well. Yes, another thing, you have to take off your shoes and place them on a shoe rack as you enter their premises. All actors and members were bare feet. You get an idea of the capacity of the hall from the size of the sturdy and clean shoe rack, And every inch of the property is tidy and neat and cared for. It is their own stage, named after their deceased mentor and they treat her memory with respect.
You might wonder why I have written so many lines not connected with the play under discussion. Because there was not much to write about. A comparison with a concurrent play about another greatly wronged famous female artist would be tempting, but I refrain in honour of the lead actress of Nati Binodini, who has illuminated our stages and later movies for so long. I long for what could have been history.
One last thing. To draw a parallel to Binodini's deceiving band of suitors and co-actors, lines from Sunil Gangopadhyay's poem Keu Katha Rakhena, have been put on Binodini's lips. Firstly, the poem is too famous to be set more than two centuries back. Secondly it entirely depicts a sense of loss of longings for things and good times that others showed off before their hungry eyes, promises to experience wonders that were not kept, entirely from a male perspective. Binodini's losses are that of trust, that of insincere love and a never to materialise dream for a home and a caring husband. All she got were people who used her to attain their goals or satisfy their lust and their egos. And she always laments. Not for once I saw her hold a commanding stance as appearing in the poster above.
A request for the Kalamandir management. Ladies, mainly senior, constituted majority of the audience. There is no Ladies Rest Room on the first and second floors where the hall and the balcony sets are located. Please provide them this basic facility at the earliest.
I stumbled on the channel at the precise point when the
poignant Maat had reached its suspenseful second half, and have been a
regular watcher since.
