Theatre and Performing Arts in Modern India: A Public Policy Perspective

The creative industry has mostly survived either on individual effort or through self-sustained community networks. Independent theatre groups and performing arts centres in Delhi such as Janam theatre, Akshara theatre and Little Theatre Group emerged from the desire to make theatre accessible to audiences and performers in a country where the conversation around performing arts concludes at the mention of funding. Many of these spaces, though privately run, are quite affordable and almost single handedly sustain the rich culture of theatre in Delhi. However, running a theatre merits immense capital, both physical and human. Akshara Theatre, a non-profit cultural society that is known for providing space to college festivals, was on the verge of shutting down in 2016. Having hardly any government aid to help them recover from the mounting cost of unpaid bills, Akshara had to resort to a crowdfunding campaign. Unsurprisingly, this is only one of the many times that independent (and often not-for-profit) theatres have been on the verge of a collapse.

In comparison, the National School of Drama (NSD) thrives on government funds, and hence produces some of the most talented artists in the country. India follows a heavily centralized model for funding arts, which limits creative expression even within autonomous institutions such as NSD. Germany, a country that boasts of prime cultural activity in the world, has a robust localized public funded system of art and theatre. This ensures that the needs of the local artists are catered to and minimizes dependence on only one mode of funding. Although the cultural economy in Germany has managed to keep central control at bay and rid itself of political interference for the most part, the threat of censorship tags along with government funding. Hence, sustaining a bright cultural sector, though solely possible through robust public funded systems, requires smart ways of dodging bureaucratic interference.

Political interference is particularly stark when it comes to the folk arts in India.Folk theatre has merely been used to disseminate information about government schemes like family planning; and has been detached from its original context and meaning. The romanticization of these art forms as harbingers of social change despite lacking actual government support allows us to settle for policies that treat adivasi and folk art as showpieces in a museum.

Not only is public funding for the arts abysmal but qualifying performing arts as a field worthy of rigid Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) donations is also difficult. Be it unreleased grants with the Ministry of Culture since 2017 or government schemes such as the NCEP (National Cultural Exchange Programme) and Guru Shishya Parampara (that aims to facilitate new talents under the guidance of eminent Gurus well versed in folk and tribal arts in each of the 7 Zonal Cultural Centres set up across India with a meagre monthly remuneration of Rs.7500 for the Guru and Rs.1500 for the pupils) that reduce folk arts to some sort of cultural exchange festival without structurally aiding these art forms and bringing them to a wider audience resulting in redundancy.

The story of Manganiars from west Rajasthan is exemplary. They were the original, but uncredited creators of the popular Bollywood song, Nimbooda. Their emergence as the face of Rajasthani folk music worldwide was established against the efforts of the State government, who is yet to implement the Barmer Charter of 2008. Their recognition can be attributed to individuals like Komal Kothari, who documented their folk music and encouraged them to institutionalize their work via copyrights; and went so far as to sue Bollywood music directors for infringement.

Bureaucratic red tapism, as seen in the case of the Manganiars, also prevents folk groups from availing certificates to access welfare benefits. This is substantiated by the experiences of Kalbelia performers who, upon approaching the Collectorate, were repeatedly asked to prove their identity. When the troupe performed the next day as proof of their tribal status, the officers still refused to issue them certificates, and thought that they could just as well be Nath Jogis, who fall under the category of Other Backward Classes.

The power of mobile troupes of folk artists to reach mass audiences has been tapped by political parties and state governments for long. As of 2016, the Odisha government had registered as many as 84,000 folk artists belonging to over 7500 folk art groups to engage them in spreading awareness about various social welfare and development schemes. Similarly, the Maharashtra government hires troupes of Tamasha performers (a form of folk theatre) to gauge the public’s interest in welfare policies.

In the 1940s, when socialist and communist philosophies began to take shape in India, theatre came to be used as a force to propel political ideologies. Before that, most stage performances were dominated by nationalist or patriotic themes. Theatre had a strong anti-colonial ardour to it but more importantly, it was used to assert nationalist fervour. Subject to constant censorship, plays by the likes of Girish Chandra Ghosh and Probhakar Khadilkar often held public figures like Lokmanya Tilak analogous to important historical characters like Bhima from the Mahabharata to capture the public's nationalist imagination. Similarly, the fight between Ravana and Rama, and Krishna and Kansa were often reclaimed through theatre to symbolise the fight against colonial oppression.

As rich as the history of anti-colonial theatre is, the trend soon changed and political ideologies, specifically those pertaining to the left, came to be championed through performing arts. The 1940s marked this shift from anti-colonial and patriotic works like ‘Nil Darpan’ [The Mirror of Indigo Planters] to communist Wags (the dramatic portion in a Tamasha performance) like ‘Aklechi Goshte’ [A Tale of Wisdom].

Inspired by the artistic movement of progressive forces in Western countries and the successful rise of Socialist Realism in Russian Art and Literature, Indian theatre artists soon came together to form the I.P.T.A (Indian People’s Theatre Association) in 1942. I.P.T.A went on to become one of the most significant organisations of its time that eventually came to be affiliated with left parties. Radical and anti-fascist in its approach, the playwrights and actors at I.P.T.A produced plays that would deal with issues of economic exploitation, social backwardness and political bigotry. While they initially tried to disassociate themselves from any political party, their work largely came to be used by the CPI (Communist Party of India) to spread its message. Interestingly, the I.P.T.A also exploited the power of traditional folk arts like Burrakatha in Andhra Pradesh and Tamasha in Maharashtra to make their political message palatable to the common people.

The organisation started to disintegrate in the late 1940s-50s as a result of an ideological split among its members. While some artists wanted to use folk traditions to spread their ideology; others insisted on continuing with the westernized urban aesthetic. This constant tug left important members contesting which had greater importance - local arts or promoting ‘internationalism’.

Hence, genuine politicization, a sine qua non for the continuity of a movement of this kind, was never systematically attempted and seldom achieved. Disenfranchisement among artists over changing leadership and the increasingly bureaucratic approach of the CPI toward the arts led to many of them leaving the I.P.T.A to start their independent cultural groups. There was also criticism of the fact that the I.P.T.A was controlled by the middle class Bhadralok intelligentsia in its birthplace, Bengal and that very few folk arts were promoted. It was only in the regional pockets of the I.P.T.A in Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra that folk performances were actively used to spread the message of the progressive coalition of artists.

The JNM (Jana Natya Mandali), established as the cultural wing of the People’s War Group [CPI (ML)] (Communist Party of India Marxist-Leninist) in 1972 was more radical and egalitarian. With the rise of important Dalit revolutionary singers such as Gaddar and the creation of a cultural phenomenon around folk arts in the Naxalite movement of Andhra Pradesh, came a widespread acknowledgement of revolutionary poems, songs, literature and performances. The inclusion of marginalised folk artists was thus proven to be important for any cultural movement to be successful. JNM’s songs include Prajala Baani (folk tune), Prajala Palukubadi (people's vocabulary) and Prajala Jeevitam (people's life); all of which creates resonance with the masses. YouTube compilations of their songs and performances, produced and revered to date are testament to Gaddar and JNM's revolutionary work.

What then, have folk arts lacked so far? What is the reason that they continue to remain marginalised, underfunded and exploited? Simply put, disseminating social welfare schemes may seem like an effective way to hire folk troupes and therefore promote folk arts but it doesn’t truly add to the art since creative autonomy is lost and the art form is censored to suit the message of the government. As observed in the case of the JNM, it worked so long as the artistes employed their art for their own struggles. With the I.P.T.A, folk theatre gained traction so long as the British were in India and their art was used to protest and bring progress. It disintegrated when ideological divisions sprung up post-independence and the common enemy left. Using folk theatre in today’s world to spread government propaganda isn’t the same as what it used to be when there was a strong motivation attached to the need to mobilise troupes.

Be it the Maharashtra state government or the Song and Drama Division of the Information and Broadcasting Ministry, the folk art of Tamasha has constantly been exploited to spread government propaganda over the years. Their wider outreach was exploited to the state's benefit to propagate information about Five Year Plans, Family Planning Programmes and the like. In 1971, the State Directorate of Publicity employed 40 entertainment troupes over a 12 month period to cover 400 villages and about 1 million audience members. As of today, Tamasha troupes that perform for political parties or governments do so despite strict rules that often ruin the art and rob it of its originality. Routine abuse faced by the artists almost becomes a necessary evil in the pursuit of seeking state support. As the famous Tamasgir Mangala Bansode puts it, “We have to keep everybody happy in this line [of tamasha], and I have been tolerating these people since I was nine. I just smile at them and get away.”

Given the lack of constructive government funding and the appropriation of the true folk art by Bollywood, the number of artists have declined from 12000 to 3500 and troupes from 450 to 150 in the last 10 years. Today, the ‘real’ Tamasha is lost. Bollywood and private Sangeet/Jalsa organizers recruit ‘fair skinned models’ to perform Tamasha while the real artists suffer. An unstable income and the ever-declining audience essentially merits these art forms to fend for themselves. Without a global stage, Tamasha either continues to be looked at as a mode of entertainment for the lower classes or a token of diversity in government programmes, basically everything but not the rich art form that it is.

Dalit women who perform Tamasha are looked at as ‘promiscuous’ persons who perform erotic and obscene dances. While sexual freedom is frowned upon, it continues to be used as a survival strategy by artists to cater to male audiences (often, upper caste men). Though liberating to some, the fetishization and sexualisation of Dalit folk artists is a dark reality, one that forces them to cater to the brahmanical male gaze ever so often. Used to build their cultural and social capital over the years, Tamasha continues to be eroticized by those in power even as it lends itself to a rich history of unceasing protest.

As the famous Dalit Tamasgir Vithabai Narayangavkar sang,

"Do not make sexual gestures by winking your left eye at me.

You are actually mocking me.

I provide you a remembrance of your youth.

I am dancing for my everyday living. I do not care for anybody else."

References:

1.Documentary filmmaker Dhnanjay Khairnar notes that, “The number came down from 450 to under 150 in overall Maharashtra and the artists have reduced to mere 3500 from 12000 in the last 10 years.” Published in an article from 2018 for the Indus Scrolls- https://indusscrolls.com/tamasha-another-folk-art-on-the-ventilator/

2.Richmond, Farley. The Political Role of Theatre in India. Educational Theatre Journal, vol. 25, no.3, 1973

3.Abrams, Tevia. Folk Theatre in Maharashtrian Social Development Programs. Educational Theatre Journal, vol. 27, no. 3, 1975

4.https://www.hindustantimes.com/pune-news/we-are-ready-to-keep-tamasha-alive-provided-we-get-help-says-sangeetachi-rani/story-kG2wikDUhca5KfobHshcVO.html

5.https://thewire.in/culture/mangala-bansode-tamasha-maharashtra

6.https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/protecting-artists-and-the-arts/article32215157.ece

By-

Tanya Yadav

A sociology major who reads and writes for fun. Reach out to her with feedback, rants and gossip on yadavtanya83@gmail.com.