KARACHI CHRONICLEL: Revival of theatre in Karachi

My friend had two free tickets for the Monday show of the stage play "Main Adakara Banu Gi" ("I shall be an actress") at the National Arts Council. I reasoned: if tickets worth Rs 800 each were being given away free, it was a ploy to artificially create a full house for a play that was probably not worth watching and could not attract a genuine, audience.
Imagine my surprise upon witnessing a large crowd of theatre goers trouping into the hall, and a queue before the box office to purchase tickets. Furthermore, my pessimism took a nosedive when I saw that the play was worth the money. Conclusion: Never judge a play by the free ticket, I silently admonished myself.
In Karachi there is a revival of theatre as a popular form of public entertainment. The Karachi theatre scene was quite lively until Zia-ul-Maq's brand of Islamization strangled it to death with the imposition of censorship on everything that the public enjoyed and the mullah disapproved.
In Lahore Islamization had the opposite effect. Ajoka, set up by a small group of cultural activists during Zia's repressive regime, recently celebrated its 25th anniversary.
Ajoka, with its mission of social enlightenment has always projected plays strongly critical of military regimes, sectarianism, terrorism and religious extremism.
It has taken its share of battering from the critics but it survived. Even as recently as the days of Musharraf, which were supposed to be tolerant and preached moderation, plays such as "Burqagavanza" and "Dekh Tamash Chalta Ban" were banned officially and received a lot of flak from the public which, unfortunately, has become largely conservative and orthodox.
Why didn't the Karachi theatre scene survive like Ajoka? Some blame the advent of television and video, pointing out that even cinema could not survive the onslaught of home entertainment that television had made possible.
Few note that a reason for the death of theatre in Karachi could be because, during the Zia regime, and even the nine years of civilian governments under Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif, Karachi was in political, social and economic shambles.
The hallmark of theatre tradition of Karachi was social and political criticism, from the plays of Khwaja Moiyuddin, such as "Mirza Ghalib Bunder Road Par" and "Taleem-i-Balighan", to the stage plays of Kamal Ahmed Rizvi full of humour and cynicism holding up a mirror to public hypocrisy.
The highly enjoyable slapstick Gujarati language plays made fun of the greed of Karachi's Gujarati speaking business community. Theosophical hall and Kartak Hall were the main venues of Karachi theatre. There was such a passion for theatre that even third-rate plays managed to draw a full house of viewers.
How did such a vibrant and vigorous theatre scene just fade away? The reason cannot be anything but the fact that the stage gave way to street which became theatre in real life with gun battles between rival political factions, rioting of ethnic groups and general lawlessness resulting in endless curfews, rioting, wheeljan strikes and other inhibiting activities which forced people off the streets to seek what entertainment they could indoors.
During the Musharraf regime a strange thing happened. While theatre in Lahore received strong criticism, Karachi theatre was resuscitated.
Theatre slowly but steadily limped back under government patronage. The National Academy of performing Arts (NAPA) set up shop in Hindu Gymkhana, Sindh Governor patronised Kucha-i-Shaqafat of the NCA to encourage street entertainment; the CDGK included performing arts in its Hamara Karachi festival.
Recently, I bumped into Kamal Ahmed Rizvi and asked him why he was not taking advantage of the revival of theatre in Karachi. He said nobody had approached him to stage plays. His observation troubled me for many days as I wondered why such a talented playwright was sidelined.
A review of plays produced in Karachi shows that authors of original plays are not in demand. The theatre in Karachi is in a hurry to catch up with Lahore. Established popular drama written by Russian, English and American dramatists are being translated or adapted in Urdu. Recently, even a popular Marathi drama "Saudhan! Court Chalu Aahey" by renowned playwright Vijay Tendulker was translated by Intezar Hussain and staged by students of NRTC (Napa Repertory Theatre Company) titled "Khamosh! Yeh Adaalat Hai".
Karachi theatre, it seems, has no time or courage to experiment with original plays of local provenance. Nevertheless, translators and adapters of foreign plays are doing a fine job.
It takes considerable skill to transfer social criticism of Russian, English or American issues into criticism of problems confronting Pakistani society. "Main Adakara Banu Gi" was adapted by Babar Jamal, a young enthusiastic and talented graduate of NAPA from Willy Russel's "Educating Rita".
Not all agree that theatre totally died out in Karachi in the repressive and troubled years. However, they cannot deny that theatre as a form of entertainment did expire.
It survived as a vehicle of education and social reform to be used in workshops of NGOs. Katha, the brainchild of talented actor Sania Saeed was established in 1994 to produce contemporary plays that are socially relevant. Kath's early ventures were staged for the public but gradually became a workshop medium, such as plays for children of Korangi in a workshop of PILER (Pakistan Institute of Labour Education & Research) and Goethe Institute.
Katha's enjoyable plays faded as public entertainment five years ago. "Main Adakara Banu Gi" is the first public offering after the long gap.
The same is the case with nearly all theatre produced in Karachi until the recent revival. They were staged for special audiences, not the public, their venues were such places as the Aga Khan University Hospital and Ida Rieu School for the blind etc.
The current revival of theatre entertainment in Karachi is refreshing. One hopes it will never again fade away as the city has a wealth of talent for this are form in every department of theatre.