Amol Palekar calls himself an actor by accident, a director by choice and a painter by nature. A postgraduate from the Sir J.J. School of Arts, Mumbai, he commenced his artistic career as a painter in 1967, working alongside in the Bank of India. After a chance meeting with the legendary theatre person Satyadev Dubey, he became a leading contributor to avant garde theatre in India. After his noteworthy performances in Chup! Court Chalu Hai (1968), followed by Mohan Rakesh’s Adhe Adhure (1969) and Girish Karnad’s Hayavadana (1972), he soon turned a director with Badal Sircar’s Vallabhpurchi Dantakatha (1969), Pagla Ghoda (1970), Juloos (1975) and Party (1976).
In 1972, he formed his own theatre group: Aniket. His production of Sadanand Rege’s Gochi (1973) was a landmark event that transported theatre outside of the restricted space of proscenium. His productions such as Gochi, Chal Re Bhoplya Tunuk Tunuk and Juloos were performed by his troupe outside auditoriums, in gardens, garages, canteens, foyers, terraces, etc.
As a film actor, Palekar ruled the silver screen for over three decades from 1970. In 1980 he turned director with the Marathi film Akriet (1980). As a director, he is known for the sensitive portrayal of women, selection of classic stories from Indian literature, and perceptive handling of progressive issues. He has made fifteen feature films in Hindi, Marathi and English, which have won numerous state, national and international awards.
Viewfinder is a memoir, which covers in detail his stint in theatre acting, direction and production, his career in acting in Hindi, Marathi and Bengali cinema and his work as a director of movies, many of which won National Awards. It's not just a book for a regular bookstore-goer but also for students of cinema and theatre and scholars, who will find that Amol, through his life story, also tells how cinema and theatre evolved from the early nineteen seventies to now, in which period, television too took huge leaps. Interestingly, he embraces twenty-first century digital tools such as creating QR codes, while being aware of copyright permissions. He meshes them brilliantly in his text by providing links to films and other creative expressions that are referenced in the book. He writes:
“Although I don’t hold the rights to all the films made available through this book, the rights holders responded graciously to my call, permitting these films to be freely shared online. Nearly all the films are National Award winners, due to which dedicated officials from the National Film Development Corporation/National Film Archive of India (NFDC/NFAI) have devoted months to digitise the content and then to upload it all. I owe each one of them my heartfelt gratitude.
Within this book, you will find QR codes connected to various posters, photos, films and audio-visual recordings. Each code is numbered, the list of which is provided as well. Simply scan the QR code with your mobile device, and you’ll be directed to the relevant website (URL link). Clicking on it will allow you to immerse yourself in that particular work of art. To elevate the experience further, you can even cast it to your TV for a grander viewing.”
Now that is how communication gaps are bridged between generations spanning five decades, across two centuries. A time in which the transformation of media has been extraordinary.
Read Viewfinder. Acquaint yourself with historical transformations and their impact upon subsequent generations of artists. Amol Palekar is a gentleman artist who cannot be ignored and should not be too!
Amol Palekar, born on 24 November 1944, is an actor, director, producer of cinema, plays and television series in Hindi and Marathi. His most successful Hindi films include Gol Maal, Chitchor, Rajnigandha, Gharaonda, Rang Birangi and Chhoti Si Baat. His iconic plays include Chup! Court Shaant Hai!, Pagla Ghoda, Hayvadana, Suno Janmejay, Julus and Gochi. He has directed award-winning, internationally acclaimed movies like Kairee, Ankahee, Bangarwadi, Daayra and Paheli, which was selected as India’s official entry to the Oscar Award in 2006. He also directed television serials like Kachchi Dhoop, Mrignayani and Krishnkali. In 2000, Palekar decided to return to painting.
The following extract has been published with permission.
******
In 1972, Dubey decided to produce Girish Karnad’s Hayavadan with Theatre Unit, casting Puri saab and me. However, a significant event was unfolding in my personal life at the time—Chitra was expecting. As rehearsals began, I found it challenging to balance my time between the play and supporting Chitra during her pregnancy. I would often receive urgent calls from a sympathetic neighbour during the rehearsals at Walchand Terrace, prompting me to rush to Chitra’s side at her parents’ home in Colaba. Observing my distraction and frequent mid-rehearsal departures, Dubey kindly offered a solution: ‘Let’s schedule the play’s premiere for the week after Chitra gives birth and Amol becomes a father.’
Dubey envisioned the production of Hayavadan with a minimalist set design, strategic lighting and live singing by the actors on stage. The cast was exceptional, featuring Puri saab as the rugged Kapil, myself as the poetic Devdatta and Sunila Pradhan as the alluring Padmini who captivates both Kapil and Devdatta. Priya Tendulkar and Kalpana Lajmi were chosen for the roles of the two dolls. A special attraction was Dina Pathak’s guest appearance as ‘Kali-mata’ in a single scene. Dubey masterfully directed a pivotal scene in which Kapil and Devdatta exchange heads without using wigs or masks, relying solely on body language and verbal expression. This play pushed my acting ability to its limits.
Performing in Hayavadan was a Herculean challenge for me, as I had to portray three distinct roles—that of the assistant of sutradhaar in the supporting role, of Devdatta until the midpoint, and finally, of Kapil with Devdatta’s head, showcasing a transformative behavioural change. Dina Pathak’s performance as Kali-mata, who was irritable because of sleep deprivation and was supportive of Padmini’s calculating nature, was enthralling. Her ease and skill on stage left me—and sometimes Puri saab too—speechless. So engrossed would we be in her performance that we occasionally forgot to change costumes and prepare for our own entries, earning us Dubey’s reprimand.
In Hayavadan, Dubey broke new ground by introducing live music, a departure from his previous reliance on pre-recorded film scores. He entrusted me with the music direction, acknowledging my ‘better than his’ understanding of music. My friend Vijay Kelkar conducted intensive music sessions, striving to refine our vocal performances. Those evenings at Walchand Terrace were filled with the resonant sounds of our rehearsals, which drew zealous complaints from neighbouring residents about the noise disturbance.
Shalmalee was born on 2 May 1972. The triumphant premiere of Hayavadan followed soon after. The play’s subsequent performances in Bombay, Thane, Pune, Delhi and Calcutta were met with resounding success. Audiences loved the production; critics universally praised the play, lauding its every aspect. Theatre Unit achieved a respectable financial gain; however, in keeping with the tradition of parallel theatre, the actors didn’t receive a single penny.
The shows in Thane and Delhi stand out in my memory. En route to Thane, our bus suffered a flat tire, but a kind-hearted truck driver offered us a lift; we arrived an hour and a half late. Despite the delay, a crowd of three thousand welcomed us with thunderous applause. As we hastened to prepare for the stage, the local organisers expressed their disappointment over the minimalist set, mistakenly believing that we had left the props on the stranded bus. But Puri Saab’s words alleviated their concerns. ‘Please disregard the blank stage setting. We perform this play everywhere without props, and I assure you, the experience will be just as impactful.’ The audience’s standing ovation at the end of the performance validated his words.
Upon arrival in Delhi, we were informed that an array of cultural luminaries, ministers and even Prime Minister Indira Gandhi would be gracing our show. We were told that she would only be able to attend part of the performance, but to our surprise, she stayed until the very end. I later found out from Dr Narayana Menon, the director at NCPA, that she had fondly remembered my performance.
Prior to our production, B.V. Karanth had already adapted Hayavadan in the traditional Yaksha-gana style, captivating audiences with his powerful, high-pitched singing as the sutradhaar. The production masterfully incorporated an energetic dance style and stage masks into the performance, but I felt it didn’t fully convey the playwright’s modern themes, such as the woman’s quest for an ideal partner and the nuanced aspects of femininity.
Following our production, Vijaya Mehta adapted Hayavadan in Marathi in 1975, but the translation done by C.T. Khanolkar fell short. It failed to capture the poetic essence of the original play struggling to convey the content through the traditional Bhaarud verse form, a metaphoric style often used by Maharashtra’s saint poets. Vijaya-bai’s production opted for a decorative approach, lacking the raw, vibrant energy of folk expression seen in Karanth’s version. I was slightly disappointed as Vijaya-bai’s rendition prioritised a polished, refined theatricality over the unbridled spirit of the original.
However, the opportunity to witness one script being interpreted by three distinct directors was a stupendous opportunity for theatre enthusiasts. For me personally, this experience marked a significant leap in my artistic growth and maturity.
Amol Palekar Viewfinder: A Memoir Westland Books, Chennai, 2024. Hb. Pp. 320. Rs. 999
Discover the latest Business News, Sensex, and Nifty updates. Obtain Personal Finance insights, tax queries, and expert opinions on Moneycontrol or download the Moneycontrol App to stay updated!
