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By:

Shoma A. Chatterji

21 August 2024 at 10:49:40 am

The Pallbearer’s Tragedy

Three decades after its premiere, Rangakarmee’s Mayyat remains a searing theatrical indictment of caste. Rangakarmee is perhaps the only theatre group that has been producing and performing plays in Hindi in Kolkata for 50 years this year. Founded and headed by the late Usha Ganguly, it is still as active and dynamic in presenting Hindi plays mainly new and sometimes recreating for the new audience, old plays that are timeless in their content and their appeal. The amazing feature of Mayyat...

The Pallbearer’s Tragedy

Three decades after its premiere, Rangakarmee’s Mayyat remains a searing theatrical indictment of caste. Rangakarmee is perhaps the only theatre group that has been producing and performing plays in Hindi in Kolkata for 50 years this year. Founded and headed by the late Usha Ganguly, it is still as active and dynamic in presenting Hindi plays mainly new and sometimes recreating for the new audience, old plays that are timeless in their content and their appeal. The amazing feature of Mayyat is that it was first performed by Usha Ganguly and her troupe way back in 1997 and has already performed around 500 shows spanning 30 years and signifies the cross-generational reach and popularity of the play. We saw a group of absolutely new actors dedicated to Rangakarmee. Their performance defined the strict discipline, the constant workouts and rehearsals to keep mobile and flexible because the very big cast needed to be perfect in body, mind and spirit during each 45-minute performance. What does the word Maiyyat mean? It is said to have its roots in Arabic and literally, it translates as ‘dead body’ or ‘corpse.’ The play is rooted in the deep internalization among the low castes of their exploitation and torture by the Brahmins of their village. The Brahmins are proud in their gait, their body language and even in their pure form of dress with the holy thread of Brahminism proudly on display. The custom of the proud, arrogant and rude Brahmins is to choose at least one among the four untouchables to become the pall-bearer when someone of the upper-caste dies. Instead of feeling sad or insulted, the chosen untouchable feels blessed and proud for being allowed by this strange custom of becoming a fake “Brahmin” if even for one day. Lakku is one such untouchable who lives somewhere near Aurangabad and leads a miserable life of poverty with the burden of a mentally deranged, motherless son he takes care of. The pall is decorated heavily with flowers and instead of looking like a bourse, it is decorated with lots of flowers like a palanquin. Someone obviously among the Brahmins is dead and the other Brahmins draw lots to find out which untouchable will be chosen to offer his shoulder to the bourse. `When Lakku’s name comes up in the shuffling of the paper chips, he is thrilled that at least for one day, he will enjoy the ‘blessing’ of becoming a “Brahmin.” But forced to run through the village on an empty stomach and with a weak body, Lakku collapses and dies before the bourse can reach the crematorium. Now, the question is – who will carry his body and carry it to the cremation ground? The entire performance, with 23 theatre actors, originally scripted, designed and directed by Usha Ganguly, is now performed by a new young cast under the guidance, training and supervision of Amal Saha, Deepesh Rajak, and Anirudh Sarkar. It has been conceived and designed like a musical opera with every Brahmin member of the cast, including the young women, dressed traditionally in pristine white with lots of marigold garlands and a sandalwood tikka adorning their foreheads. Though there are dialogues in the performance, these are either among the leading and decisive members among the Brahmins or scoldings and threats from the Brahmins to the four members from the untouchable tribe, each one representing a different low caste. These four men, alongwith Lakku and his mentally retarded son, keep waiting eagerly in one corner of the proscenium for the results of the lots to be drawn. They hug each other for joy when their names are announced and Lakku specially is thrilled with the responsibility of being pallbearer and becoming a Brahmin for just one night. Whose corpse is being carried in the bourse is not important. What is important is who are the pall bearers? At least, the Brahmins are not. What one carries home after watching a performance-play like Mayyat is the marvellous synchronization of the entire female cast wandering right around the proscenium space singing songs in complete harmony with not a note of error and the Brahmin men discussing, arguing and quarrelling over not how the corpse will be cremated but which low-caste man will become the pallbearer for one night. The bottom-line is caste is a continuous, historical evil. But should it remain so? (The writer is a noted film scholar. Views personal.)

From Revolutionary to Relic

Updated: Feb 10, 2025

Delhi

For the first time in 27 years, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has stormed back to power in Delhi, routing the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) in an election that was less about a shift in governance than a referendum on Arvind Kejriwal himself. The verdict is unambiguous: the city that once embraced Kejriwal as its unlikely saviour has now cast him aside. The man who once vowed to uproot the political establishment finds himself a casualty of the very system he sought to change.


Kejriwal’s own loss in the New Delhi constituency to BJP’s Parvesh Verma is a moment of rare political irony. In 2013, when Kejriwal first contested from this seat, he stunned the nation by defeating three-time Congress Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit, symbolizing the birth of an insurgent force in Indian politics. Today, as he bites the electoral dust (trounced by the BJP’s Parvesh Verma), it marks the collapse of that very force.


In 2011, Kejriwal was an anonymous bureaucrat-turned-activist, riding on the anti-corruption wave ignited by Anna Hazare’s movement. His decision to break away and form the AAP in 2012 was met with scepticism. Few believed that a party forged in protest could translate its idealism into political success. Yet, by 2013, AAP had stunned the establishment, winning 28 out of 70 seats in the Delhi Assembly and briefly forming a government.


What followed was a political rollercoaster. Kejriwal’s dramatic resignation after 49 days in office seemed to spell the end of his experiment, but he returned in 2015 with a staggering mandate: 67 out of 70 seats. His promise of clean governance, free electricity, water and a revolution in healthcare and education captivated voters. In 2020, despite Narendra Modi’s towering presence, Kejriwal secured another landslide, winning 62 seats. The AAP model of governance seemed invincible.


But invincibility breeds complacency, and over the years, the cracks widened. Corruption allegations - once AAP’s primary weapon against others - began to stick to its own leadership. The liquor policy scandal engulfed the party, with key leaders like Manish Sisodia and Sanjay Singh facing jail time. Kejriwal himself was mired in allegations, tarnishing AAP’s carefully cultivated image of honesty.


Meanwhile, governance issues compounded despite the AAP’s welfare schemes remaining popular. Kejriwal’s sensational claim that the BJP was poisoning the Yamuna river backfired, reinforcing his critics’ argument that he was more adept at theatrics than at governance. The Delhi electorate, once enchanted by his disruptive politics, had grown weary of the unending controversies.


If AAP’s missteps weakened it, BJP’s strategic offensive sealed its fate. Long an outsider in Delhi, the saffron party ran a disciplined campaign, leveraging AAP’s failures. By pledging to sustain existing welfare schemes while introducing schemes like the ‘Mahila Samridhi Yojana’, the BJP successfully swayed a crucial segment of AAP’s voter base.


Perhaps most telling was the Congress’s muted presence. Once Delhi’s dominant party, the Congress has now suffered three consecutive electoral wipeouts. Ironically, it found more satisfaction in Kejriwal’s defeat than in its own resurgence, a reflection of the deep distrust between the INDIA bloc allies.


This election was not just a political loss for Kejriwal but the collapse of an idea. His rise had inspired a new generation of politicians, from Pawan Kalyan in Andhra Pradesh to Manoj Parab in Goa and even political strategist-turned-aspirant Prashant Kishor. The belief that a common man could enter politics and clean it from within was Kejriwal’s greatest legacy. Now, with his defeat, that belief lies shattered.


Poet and former AAP leader Kumar Vishwas, once one of Kejriwal’s closest allies, summed up the moment with a stinging rebuke: “Delhi is now free from him… He used the dreams of party workers for his own ambition. Today, justice has been delivered.”


But the larger question remains: Is this truly the end of Arvind Kejriwal?

Kejriwal has defied political death before. He returned from the brink in 2015, resurrected himself in 2020, and expanded AAP’s footprint beyond Delhi, forming governments in Punjab and contesting in Gujarat and Goa. If history is any guide, he may not be finished yet.


But this defeat is different. For over a decade, Kejriwal thrived as an outsider battling the system. Now, stripped of power and credibility, he faces his toughest test: survival in a political landscape that has moved on without him.

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