Super trouper : Habib Tanvir

At 82, Habib Tanvir, often described as a 'living legend of Indian theatre', remains driven, still consumed by the stage and his beliefs, writes Trina Mukherjee

Finding Habib Tanvir in Bhopal was easy. Any theatre lover would direct you to his second floor apartment in the picturesque Shamla Hills area. The 82 year-old dramatist and actor lives here when he's not travelling with his plays in India and abroad.

Tanvir's 60 years worth of trophies and mementoes are stashed away in two huge trunks in this house. "I don't like to wear my achievements on my sleeve," he says dismissively, driven by the 'now', and happy to let the past lie in those trunks. "The older I grow, the more I am in demand," declares the Padma Bhushan awardee.

Tanvir is currently obsessed with his latest production Visarjan, a Hindi adaptation of Rabindranath Tagore's Bengali play Bisharjan, and excited about enacting the role of a man older than his age in a film titled Xapai (Grandfather). While Kolkata-based playwright and actor Usha Ganguli asked him to direct Visarjan as a joint production with her Rangakarmee troupe, filmmaker Sai Paranjpe sought him out for her black comedy that deals with interpersonal relationships of children and grandchildren of a patriarch (Tanvir). "I needed an energetic actor with a fine sensibility and command over Hindi and English as the film is bilingual. I needed a mobile face and a certain aura," says Paranjpe, speaking about her film and "old colleague".

Tousled hair, walking stick in hand, Tanvir looks exhausted. A nasty fall in New Delhi last year led to a hip implant. The dimly lit living room is full of books. Tribal artefacts jostle with old files, musty ledgers and frayed folders. Tanvir reaches for his pipe and a glass of water before he carefully lowers himself on a sturdy cane chair, dressed in white pyjama and mauve kurta.

"I am a slave driver who is now being driven by his slaves," he declares. But with his "slaves", the Chhattisgarhi actors of Naya Theatre, he's still the forceful taskmaster, laying down the law, forever assuming they are playing truant and planning to go on long vacations.

His daughter Nageen, 41, follows him to the room. She has slipped into the role of homemaker and troupe manager after Monika, her mother, passed away after a long illness last year. "Her last days were painful; too many surgeries - we could not do much," reminisces Tanvir as he stares at nothing in particular.

Four months of "silence" after his wife's death and Tanvir "threw himself back" into work. The shooting for Xapai is yet to wrap up. Tanvir has just finished a two-and-a-half month tour with his group Naya Theatre. Travelling to cities like Bangalore, Chandigarh, Delhi and Kolkata, the playwright conducted theatre workshops and staged old plays and premiered Visarjan, a play based on the Tripura royal family that ruled the state in late 17th century.

Tanvir's original troupe has changed many a times since 1958. Govindram, 71, and Devilal, 65, are the only two of the 10 regular performers who have stayed with Naya Theatre.

The group now meets at Tanvir's house after being evicted in 2003 from their state-allotted bungalow, given to them by the previous Congress government. The current BJP regime, however, declared it 'government property' and ordered them out. This came a year after RSS-VHP-Bajrang Dal followers accused Tanvir of being 'anti-Hindu' and disrupted his play Jamadarin Urf Ponga Pandit. The play was a satirical take on religious hypocrisy. "He merely decided to stage the wrong play in wrong places," says Manoj Nair, 32, a former member of Tanvir's troupe. "I'll never forget those rotten tomatoes and chappals that greeted us. Habibsaab was unfazed by it all," he adds.



"I did not even write it. It is an old Chhattisgarhi play," explains Tanvir who refuses to relent and is currently occupied with Visarjan. The play has enjoyed four full houses in Kolkata after premiering on 5 January this year in New Delhi. But Tanvir isn't satisfied. "He had a tough job," says co-director Usha Ganguli. "Just two months to prepare, two actor-directors and two groups of actors."

The only thing that bothers Tanvir about Visarjan is the way the main characters are etched in the original play. "They show no progression. Why?" he asks. "I will have to read more of Tagore's plays to look for answers," he trails off.

Reading is Tanvir's way of 'silent' conversation. Books lie stacked on shelves or precariously heaped on stools and windowsills of his living room - Eugene O' Neil's Collected Plays, Austin's Making of a Democratic Constitution, back issues of popular magazine Urdu Duniya; an eclectic collection. You pause to scan Arthur Miller's After the Fall, to see a packet of Glucon-D behind it. Also stashed away in the shelves are little packets of pills.

Apart from minor bouts of cough and cold and some aches and stiffness, Tanvir claims he doesn't suffer from any major ailments. But he is unable to recall many details of his plays or films and turns to his daughter for help. Thankfully, he also meticulously maintains a logbook where he jots down information on his troupe and his schedules.

Despite his eye for precision and detail, his uncertain memory recently got him into a spot with the current BJP government - for failing to submit 'appropriate' break-up of a state grant to the tune of Rs 60 lakh in 2003. The State Culture Department has blacklisted his troupe. The grant, claims Tanvir, is no longer important. He will not rest until it's sorted out, he says.



With the current spate of attacks on him by the Sangh Parivar, Tanvir has become a secular hero for Left cultural activists. "You get as political as the issue in question," is his take. "My plays probe, provoke and delight in turns." Politics and religion have often clashed in the pages of history, he observes. "A writer draws inspiration from such incidents. I have done it, not just Ponga Pandit- think of Charandas Chor and you'll know," he mutters almost to himself.

"Tanvir is engaging when he is raising political issues," says Rakesh Sethi, secretary of the Bhopal-based Rangadhar theatre group. "But he is truly in his element when he is on stage or watching closely from the wings. No one can ignore his secular credentials."

Respect for religion has different connotations for different people, believes the dramatist. "Charandas Chor explains how difficult it is to stick to truth and the thief, like most people, has to survive on half-truths," he talks about the play. He scripted and directed Charandas between 1973 and 1975. The play won the Edinburgh Fringe First Prize in 1982, catapulting its rural cast from Chhattisgarh into instant fame.

Ironically, Tanvir's biggest problem now is finding a place to rehearse. "We keep moving in and out of places as they [state government officials] keep coming up with new rent and tenure rules," he says. Right now, his troupe rehearses in Adivasi Press Auditorium, a cramped and decrepit place.

He is also busy finishing his autobiography Matmaili Chadariya in Urdu, his mother tongue. "I have managed about 350 handwritten pages," he says. He excitedly describes his plans to attend the Bonn theatre festival in May to a caller from London. Meanwhile, it's time to settle accounts with those "harassing Naya Theatre" by getting his papers in place and demanding his 'rightful dues'. "I'll ensure I get heard loud and clear on this political tamasha," he says, with quiet determination writ large on his face. His face is lined with survival and fortitude. There is light in his eyes that refuses to dim.

Featured in Harmony Magazine
April 2006