Mughals on the big stage

Amir Raza Hussain’s Shahenshah Nama is a theatrical extravaganza..

 

Source: The Hindu Business Line 

Ronita Torcato

On the sprawling ground adjoining the Grand Hyatt at Kalina, Mumbai, one could spot the Qutub Minar, the red sandstone Agra Fort, and pristine-white marble corridors culminating in splendid, arched palaces. Delhi-based theatre artiste Amir Raza Hussain had brought over his latest production — Shahenshah Nama — portraying the history of the Mughals in India. The sets consisted of these elaborate edifices crafted from wood, metal and plaster of Paris.

The last time Hussain was in the city, he had got a 100-member crew to build 19 sets on a three-acre plot to stage The Legend of Ram with 35 characters. He’d called it “the greatest story in the world”.

Besides acting in numerous productions, Hussain has directed 73 plays including The Fifty Day War, One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, comedies such as No Sex please, We Are British, and a film — Kim — for BBC starring Peter O’Toole.

His choice of the son et lumière (sound and light) medium is apt for period pieces such as The Legend of Ram and Shahenshah Nama. This night-time theatrical device lends itself to the grand spectacle demanded of such productions, including opulent wardrobes and magnificent sets.

Shahenshah Nama premiered some months ago at Hyderabad’s Chowmahallah Palace, which was beautifully lit up to exude royal splendour.

Theatre lovers in that city were delighted with the novel experience of watching the open-air production by moving from set to set (seven in all).

At the Mumbai show, the lights (handled by Hussain’s wife Virat) dimmed and a rich baritone boomed over the music, which swelled to a crescendo. For about an hour, the senior citizens in the audience chose to sit around tables some distance away, while the rest walked slowly from set to set, as the tumultuous history of the Mughals unfolded.

Revisiting the Mughals

The reference material for Babar, who invaded India in 1526 A.D., was his own meticulously recorded diaries in which he talks of hunting rhinoceros in the Punjab and complains about things Indian, comparing them to his native Samarkhand. The Babarnama also records natural history — the plants that he saw and even the fruits he ate. On the ‘King of the Fruits’, he says, rather prosaically, “The mango is one of the fruits peculiar to Hindustan. It is eaten in two ways: one is to squeeze it to a pulp, make a hole in it and suck the juice; the other is to peel and eat it like a peach.”

The production included tales of Babar’s son Humayun, who was addicted to opium; the best and wisest of them all, Emperor Akbar; Jahangir and his ambitious chief queen Noorjahan; Shah Jahan, a lover of beauty who immortalised his beloved Mumtaz in a breathtaking white tomb; and the controversial Aurangzeb. In Hussain’s production the monarchs were fleshed out by a cast attired in lush costumes, and the miming and dancing brought alive the medieval period. The Mughal women, especially Noorjahan, were depicted as steel magnolias.

Hussain has clarified that his Shahenshah Nama is “not a textbook lesson in history”. Which is probably why it glosses over Aurangzeb’s excesses, while amplifying slivers of legend. One of the more riveting sequences shows how the powerful singing (Raga Deepak) of Tansen, one of the nine jewels or Navaratnas at the court of Akbar, sets the trees on fire and how this, in turn, is doused by the rains resulting from the mellifluous singing (Raga Megh Malhar) by his daughter. Abul Fazal writes in Ain-e-Akbari (which Hussain sources for his script) that Akbar, a great lover of music, had personally chosen each of the gems in his court.

Despite the grey skies and predictions of rain, the crowd thronged the dusty maidan for the weekend show. We enjoyed the royal spectacle as a balmy breeze blew around us, and just as the show ended the skies opened up.