Ratan Thiyam, the Risks He Took and the Future of Indian Theatre
Great thinkers and patriots constantly illustrate that having a deep attachment to one’s roots equips one to be more cosmopolitan in thought. Only the shallow dabblers shrink from experimentation or fear communication with the larger world. Ratan Thiyam, legendary theatre director and playwright from Manipur, who breathed his last on July 23, exemplified such a colossus. Working in the native language of his actors, he saw no need to do productions in more ‘mainstream’ languages. His work reached across the seas anyway.
As the theatre community mourns the loss of one of its beloved stalwarts, it is important to take stock of the significance his life, and also of his death, for India and the larger art universe.
Well known Thang-Ta artist Biseshwor Sharma grew up observing his father, Guru Gourkishor Sharma exchange notes with Thiyam on how Manipuri culture could be nurtured. Guru Gourkishor is known for successfully transitioning Thang-Ta from a martial art which had lost some relevance as guns took over from swords and shields, to an art of self-defence and also an aesthetic performance. Sharma says that if the Guru Huyen Lallong Manipur Thang-Ta Cultural Association established by his father in Irilbung is recognised as one of Manipur’s most iconic institutes for martial arts, then Thiyam’s Chorus Repertory Theatre is its counterpart in theatre.
“Ratan ji was so versatile,” notes Biseshwor Sharma, mentioning his knowledge of dance, music, languages, showmanship, alongside art forms from other Indian regions. Born to dancer parents, Thiyam was also a visual artist and seamlessly brought together artistic paths in his productions. Not surprisingly, in Thiyam’s work, the Natyashastra principle of a stage performance as a drishya kavya or ‘poem that is seen’ is clearly palpable.
“His theatre touched not just the eyes and ears, but the soul,” says Suwarn Rawat, eminent theatre director and senior alumnus of the National School of Drama.
Theatre director, scenographer and author Satyabrata Rout points out that while Thiyam's productions were visual poetry, they were far from hollow reflections of ancient glory. “Most of the directors of India do work with traditional forms, traditional [concepts of] beauty, colours and aesthetics,” Rout notes. “But Ratan is different. In his productions we can see how culture is blended into a totally modern sensibility.” This is achieved through the application of painting, sculpture and other arts, says Rout, whose association with Thiyam goes back over nearly 45 years. It was this visual aspect Rout feels he imbibed most deeply from his mentor.
Satyabrata Rout and Ratan Thiyam. Photo: By arrangement.
“His actor’s body seems to be a sculpture. His compositions are like temple architecture. His colour schemes, bright colours, are imbibed from the Northeast valleys.” Recalling a predominance of black and red in the sets and appropriate use of warm and cool colours, Rout says, “It was a learning for me every time.”
If his productions were awe inspiring in their evocative grandeur, their success was also due to the hard work of his actors who brought his vast imaginative canvas to life. All who knew Thiyam talk of discipline. His repertory actors were trained rigorously in martial arts by Guru Gourkishor from the beginning, and today Biseshwor and his brother continue where their father left off.
Suresh Bhardwaj wth Ratan Thiyam. Photo: By arrangement.
Suresh Bhardwaj, veteran actor, film and television director and theatre designer, knew Thiyam since 1978. He too recalls the discipline and soulful lifestyle of the Chorus Repertory. Initially they worked from Thiyam’s home. Thiyam told Bhardwaj he had acquired some land which he planned to develop into his theatre headquarters. Later Bhardwaj became associated with Bhopal’s Bharat Bhavan in the early 1980s, where too he often met Thiyam. As Bhardwaj relates the exchanges between stalwarts of literature, theatre, visual arts and other creative fields who frequented Bharat Bhavan, one is reminded that from these conclaves and seemingly stargazing conversations were born some of the lasting works of tangible and intangible cultural treasures of modern India.
In 1994 Bhardwaj had a chance to visit Imphal and saw the new home of the Chorus Repertory Theatre. “Then I realised what he had been dreaming back in 1978! It had been just a pond and some barren land.”
Thiyam’s hallmark discipline was constantly in evidence. Rawat was a student when Thiyam was NSD’s director. “Like Ebrahim Alkazi — the Bhishma Pitamah of Indian theatre – Ratan Ji also paid close attention to discipline and hygiene,” remarks Rawat. “He would occasionally make surprise inspections of hostel rooms and washrooms, or suddenly summon us to emergency meetings late at night. We would rush to attend, feeling energised and purposeful afterward.”
Ratan Thiyam with artists of Huyen Lallong Manipur Thang-Ta Cultural Association
One can discern the stars in Rawat’s eyes as he talks of his formative years at NSD during the 1980s. He notes cheerfully that “Ratan ji was widely regarded as the favourite student of Alkazi,” while he (Rawat) was Thiyam’s favourite. “Whenever there was a dustup in the hostel, I would be summoned to convey the whole truth!”
Introducing the students to world theatre celebrities, Thiyam took an active interest in their personal and professional welfare. Rawat narrates a touching case of administrative initiative taken by Thiyam. “We were scheduled to perform “Hamlet” with director John Retallack from England. But I had to return to my ancestral village in Uttarakhand’s Uttarkashi for the summer break. When I asked to borrow a shield and a sword to practise, the props department refused, so I had to diffidently request the Director. To my joy, and the staff’s surprise, he approved not one but two shields and two swords, saying I wouldn’t be able to practice alone. He also provided an official letter on his letterhead, which proved invaluable during police checks on the overnight bus from Delhi to the hills. That gesture exemplified his warmth, foresight, and trust.”
His vast knowledge of theatre and literature stretched from the Natyashastra to modern times. “Ratan ji insisted on precision in spoken lines,” states Rawat. “He said the delivery of each word must reflect its emotional weight – some lines should land with the force of iron, others with the softness of cotton. A playwright carefully selects words, stringing them like flowers. It is the actor’s sacred duty to honour each word and syllable through heartfelt delivery. Dialogue delivery must vary in tone and energy to avoid monotony – only then can layered characters come alive.”
Life lessons and stagecraft were intertwined. Rawat quotes Thiyam’s “three A’s: Actor, Audience, and Actuality (Truth).” In a field known for bohemian excesses, Thiyam “often said that before intimate scenes, actors should refrain from all vices.”
The preparations for NSD’s student production of Dharamveer Bharati’s Andha Yug are alive in Rawat’s memory. “He would describe battle scenes vividly – cries of victory, wails of defeat, the pounding of hooves, the rhythm of marching boots – and then, emerging from that chaos, Krishna’s flute would whisper serenity, followed by a still, haunting silence.”
Silence was a vital element of Thiyam’s work. Indeed, it seemed a part of his persona too, when one saw him at NSD after the staging of his Macbeth at Bharat Rang Mahotsav, 2016. As excited theatre students and directors milled around during the daily interaction organised between spectators and directors, his studied refusal to be drawn into a verbal discussion of what he had already demonstrated the night before was perhaps the most eloquent reply to all questions.
From left, Waman Kendre, Ratan Thiyam, Suresh Bhardwaj and KT Verghese in around 2015. Photo: By arrangement.
Rout describes the silences in his productions using the Hindi term thehrav. “Thehrna bahut mahatvapoorn hai unke natak mein (his plays require the vital quality of stillness).” Rich in visual poetry with symbols, metaphors, rituals, it was “transcendental”, he says. “I found him to be a truly honest (artist) and a rang-guru, for me as well as most of those who worked with him.”
Eminent theatremaker Daulat Vaid says, “After a performance he would come to the stage and greet the audience by touching his forehead to the ground. I’ve never heard him speak about himself on stage. Perhaps because each moment of his life bore witness to his dedication.”
If his entire life was a work of theatre exploration, his stage topics reflected that vast spectrum. In the words of Rudradeep Chakrabarti, founder of Theatre Movement International in San Francisco and an NSD alumnus, Thiyam “draws on epic themes, historical figures and cultural practice to explore issues of personal responsibility, political topics, cognizance, good, evil and community obligation.”
Little remains untouched by him. Yet the question hovers, what now?
“In today’s context the problem is nobody wants to take that much risk,” says Rout. “Everybody, in Indian theatre particularly, is after money. Money is very important. Commercial theatre can survive, but the way Ratan Thiyam (and myself also) are doing theatre, it’s very difficult to sustain that quality. Actors have to be paid. And this kind of theatre may not pay properly. But it gives lot of things other than that. In that context the future of Indian theatre after Ratan Thiyam…” his voice over the phone trails off.
But theatre is the art of moments. The future too will tell its story.
Anjana Rajan is a theatre practitioner, Bharatanatyam exponent, choreographer and teacher.
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