It was at once an evening to commemorate the genius of Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, on his 20th death anniversary, as it was one to pay tribute to love in its many shades – of love materialised and love unfulfilled – as told by the female characters of the litterateur’s stories. By weaving in narrative strands from various tales by Basheer, P.C. Hareesh, the director of the solo docudrama ‘Soja Rajakumari’, created a rich visual tapestry on stage at Vyloppilly Samskrithi Bhavan in Thiruvananthapuram.
The play begins on a light note with Sainaba of ‘Mucheettukarante Makal’ incessantly chattering about her life and times, and even briefly touching upon the present worries that beset the audience. She sees among the audience characters from Basheer’s stories and greets them. Just when the mood lightens and the audience begins to unwind, the play suddenly turns sombre. Against the subtle lighting that accentuates the eeriness, the ethereal Bhargavi of ‘Neelavelicham,’ floats in, dressed in her customary white. You can’t blame the audience if they anticipate spooky moments from there on, as the character, who later got adapted into the classic film, Bhargavinilayam , is a ghost.
However, much to the audience’s relief, spooky is not what the director wanted from Bhargavi ’s reappearance after her entry on screen half a century ago, and soon we are thrown into deep despondency. What follows Bhargavi’s unearthly arrival, is a scorching account of a love affair that turns into a disaster for both the lovers. Strains of songs from the movie Bhargavinilayam nudge the play towards melodrama, but adept direction and the pitch-perfect rendering by the artiste ensures that the story does not descend into melodrama.
The riveting tale of Bhargavi is perhaps the highlight and also, to some extent, the weakness of the play. The mood that the character creates, bleeds profusely into both sides of the segment, into other characters, who precede and follow Bhargavi. At the end, what remains at the crux of the dramatic experience is the tragic plight of one woman recurring in others.
The flower, given to Bhargavi by her lover, which is redolent with his sweat, kisses and sighs, remains throughout the play. Metaphorically, it is the same flower that Narayani, another Basheer character, one who is physically separated from her love by a wall in the story ‘Mathilukal’, catches. The flower exudes its fragrance through the characters for a while.
Jameela Beevi’s wish to have a plantain fruit one night puts her husband in a spot, and the audience in splits. Devi, the “sad, sweet poem,” in the life of the great writer, claims that it is her story that Basheer narrates through other women. Caught in the fine line between fiction and reality, she is an epitome of unfulfilled love. At the end, the sweet number, ‘Soja Rajakumari’ swells and fills the hall; Narayani distributes rosebuds to the audience.
The play was successful in transporting the audience to a different time. The music, the lighting and the props all had a singular purpose – to evoke the magical moments from the world created by Basheer. Had there been more actors to tell the tales of Basheer’s women characters, the compilation would definitely have failed to work as a dramatic unit. Pooja K. Nair, a student of class nine of Little Flower Convent High School, Guruvayoor, gave life to all the characters of the play. If she continues this hard work to get under the skin of the characters she portrays, theatre and, perhaps, cinema would have a valuable addition in her.
Pooja's breathtaking performance as Sainaba, Jameela Beevi, Suhara, Saramma, Devi, Bhargavikutty, Narayani, and so on moved them along the spectrum with ease, from pure girlish charm, light banter, and innocence, to both strong and subdued moments of expressiveness, whatever the situation demanded.
“I wanted to see and explore through this attempt, how the characters of Basheer live on outside the stories even after 60 years of their creation,” says Hareesh, the director. The play was staged by Nataka Padana Kendram, Kozhikode.
