Last December, Akvarious Productions — helmed by theatre artiste, director and actor Akarsh Khurana — celebrated 15 years of the collective’s existence. A week’s celebrations were planned which included staging a staggering 27 productions at Prithvi House as a Fringe festival. “The whole idea was to generate content that would work at alternate venues,” says the director who’s the son of actor, screenwriter and director Akash Khurana. “While people had started to venture into places like The Hive, it was something we had not managed to do.” Shortly after, though Khurana explored smaller spaces across the city like the Comedy Club (now Canvas Laughter Club), House of Wow, Brewbot, Jeff Goldberg Studio and even Bombay Canteen.
He still continues with the endeavour, still creating specific content for intimate settings. Just last night, Khurana staged Stand Up, a play revolving around five comics, which gets surprisingly serious. On Saturday evening, audiences get a chance to witness Bayan that evolved from a production at last year’s fringe festival. With a title that means women in Turkish, and refers to an expression or statement in Hindi, the irreverent and humorous production presents the audience with different women’s voices.
Favourite five
By his own admission, Khurana’s play features modern women who are finding different versions of themselves to put on stage and that in itself is what will make Bayan most relatable. For instance, there’s the introductory piece, cheekily titled ‘Mrs. Nath Krishnan’ after actor Tahira Nath’s own last name. Adapted from an international monologue called ‘Mrs. Sorken’, Nath’s tongue-in-cheek version mocks the play itself in a hilariously flippant way. Krishnan has forgotten her script and has a drinking problem. “She talks about theatre and the theatre–watching experience,” says Khurana. “It’s a deeply personal piece about a woman on the verge of a breakdown and who can’t handle her five minutes of fame.”
Nath also plays a part in ‘I Can Tell Your Handbag Is Fake’, adapted from Dean Lundquist’s original story. Three strangers on a metro plunge into a conversation after a particularly offensive comment about a lady’s handbag that takes on the age-old relationship between women and fashion. In, ‘Anything for you’, Khurana tests female friendship when one woman declares her intent to cheat on her husband. “The pieces are comforting to watch,” says actor Shriya Pilgaonkar of her role in the piece. “I’d say it’s a humorous take on certain harsh takes of life.”
The fourth segment is a beloved tribute to the city, titled ‘Tale of Two Typewriters’, written by Karishma Attari. “It’s a very interesting narrative to watch,” says Rohini Ramnathan, one half of the duo onstage for this piece, which features one character in the present and another in the past. “It’s a story about two friends’ equation,” she laughs. “It’s very girly, the quintessential frenemy piece.” The throwback, as Khurana describes this segment, is written to evoke 90s nostalgia for Bandra, bringing to mind the station and ‘Good Luck Typing Class’.
Finally, Bayan ’s pièce de résistance is an out-and-out comedy that brings the entire cast to the stage in an original piece written by Apoorva Kale titled ‘Santa's Little Call Girls’. Four wildly profane girls are stuck in a call centre on Christmas Eve, oppressed by a dictator of a boss. And on that night, something major happens and the women decide to take a stand. “The girls are talking in an American accent and selling this dream to customers but they have lost their own beliefs and faith in life,” says Pilgaonkar. The humour without being slapstick or cerebral, aims to leave the audience in splits.
Then and now
According to Khurana, it’s very hard to write a piece with only women without social commentary. “My plays have always said deeper things without actually wearing them on their sleeve and we hope the audience is left with something to think about,” he says. With Bayan , a viewer is invited to do as they please; there’s no hidden message waiting to be “shoved down anyone’s throat”. The curatorial process was simple: the only thing Khurana had in mind was to let the actors have a chance to play diverse characters that would be relatable to India today. He continues, “It’s good to see women having a good time. A lot of times, women are portrayed on stage with baggage, so [ Bayan ] is releasing that and allowing them to breathe in their own skin.”
Through 12 previous shows in multiple cities, Bayan has constantly evolved. For instance, Saturday evening’s show features three entirely new pieces excepting the two original pieces from Kale and Attari. Initially, Khurana included a piece on the Internet inspired by Turkish writer Elif Safak, to further a connection with the play’s title. “But it stuck out a bit and I felt I didn’t need to do that,” he says. And since then, there’s been even more mathematics involved. “We’ve been on our toes and that kept us fresh,” says actor Dilshad Edibam, who is part of three pieces in the play. Edibam, also Khurana’s wife, promises that previous viewers of Bayan are in for a treat thanks to its constant evolution. “[With other plays], you do things in the beginning and just go with it.”
It’s been exactly a year since Bayan was conceptualised, and this version — that Khurana is most happy with — has perfected the director’s vision of a layered effort. Each piece deftly targets a different facet of women’s personality, allowing a glimpse — however brief — into why they do the things they do.
Bayan will be staged this evening at 7.30 p.m. at The Cuckoo Club. Tickets are priced at Rs. 250.
