Dara Shikoh: A votary of composite culture  

Before embarking on my story of the making of Dara Shikoh as a stage production, the readers need to be filled in on the reasons for picking this subject and its influences.

I come from Rawalpindi and right from childhood have been influenced by the composite culture of this great civilization. As Hindus living in an area that was close to North West Frontier and borders of Afghanistan and Iran (Chaman) - a tri-junction of three great cultures - Buddhist, Greek and Islamic - we were, even as children, exposed to the azan of the muezzin, dargahs of the Sufis, melodious shabad kirtan of Sikh gurudwaras, our own Hindu sankirtans and words of wisdom of wandering faqeers. We lived in the city but our lands were in a village called Golra Sharief, the seat of a great Sufi saint Hazrat Meher Ali of Qadriya Silsila. As children, we visited this dargah any number of times without ever being conscious of any religious divide.

Moving to Delhi under the tragic circumstances of Partition left a hurt of being deprived of. And, more than the material possessions of a middle class family, I missed our language, traditions, costumes, food habits and a familiar landscape. Delhi is blessed with the dargahs of some of the greatest Sufis of the sub-continent and, for us coming from the other side, visits to these dargahs was a natural transition. Whether Hazrat Bakhtiar Kaki’s Dargah in Mehrauli or annual Urs of Hazrat Amir Khusro at Nizamuddin, our spiritual loss was more than made up.

At a young age I moved to Europe. Amongst other experiences there was one experience that even after 50 years sends a chill down my spine. While travelling from Stuttgart in South Germany to Munich, I saw a signboard indicating “Dachau” – the little town infamous for Hitler’s concentration camp. I decided to visit the camp with my companions on this trip and even today while writing this tale I am filled with dread. Looking at the gas chambers – huge halls with oversized showers, mass graves and documentation, including tuft of hair, displayed there left us all benumbed and to this day Dachau haunts me.

These were a few influences in my life that made me search for those who tried to undo the damage done by fundamental forces of any kind - be they religious, provincial or political. Looking at the medieval history of India, I was always attracted by the personality of Dara Shikoh, heir apparent to emperor Shah Jehan, who could have changed the course of Indian history. That Dara had the Upanishads translated into Persian and understood the essential message of “Vasudhaiv Kutumbakkam” or “Sulah-e-Kul” and tried to create a unique synthesis of two great religions had a great impact on me.

Looking around as someone from the field of performing arts, I was surprised to notice that this unique character of Indian history has been grossly neglected by the creative fraternity. Almost everything about Moghul rule and dynasty is very well documented but surprisingly no film or stage play of any noticeable stature was done on the life of Dara Shikoh, the most neglected character of medieval Indian history. I had a strong urge to project the contribution of this unique votary of composite culture. There was very little material, besides history books, available on the subject. Financial constraints did not permit me to think of a film but a stage play looked like a doable possibility. But where was a script?

My search led me to Gopal Gandhi’s Dara Shukoh, an excellent play in verse in English, Shymal Gangopdhyaya’s voluminous novel in Bangla (translated and published in Hindi by Sahitya Akademi), Prof. Mujeeb’s writings, Jehan Ara’s Diaries originally published in French and translated into English and Manuchi’s (Dara’s Italian gunner’s) description. It was not enough. I made a request to Danish Iqbal, a low profile scholar then working for All India Radio. Danish Iqbal researched further and read Dr Tara Chand, Dr Pal, Abraham Early, Qazi Abdus Sattar, Dryden and others. After about a year’s hard work, Danish Iqbal delivered me a script. I can not thank him enough for his support in creating a original play.

Looking at the script, I did not have the courage to direct it myself. I approached my mentor and guru-like friend MS Sathyu, the legendary stage and film director of Garam Hawa fame. I had learnt theatre under Sathyu and, therefore, had a comfort level working with him. Sathyu was 74 but did not take a minute in giving his consent and travelled from Bengaluru to Delhi to discuss the script with Danish Iqbal and me. Ideologically also the subject was to Sathyu’s liking.

Working with a celebrity director like Sathyu was an experience one could write a book about. At 74, he was the most energetic member of a 40-member unit. Decorated with virtually every award, celebrity status sits lightly on Sathyu. During six months of interaction and six weeks of rehearsals, he was humility personified, most disciplined, first to arrive and last to leave the rehearsals. He never made anyone feel smaller or lesser. Being a committed theatre person, he refused to accept my hospitality, stay at a hotel or use a car for his daily use. During his entire stay at Delhi, he camped with his friend DS Jain at Green Park and often commuted with him on a scooter, causing me immense worry.

The process of creation was a lesson in stagecraft. Lumbered with a diversified crowd of 40 actors, dancers, back stage workers from different artistic and social backgrounds, Sathyu mixed with them like he had known them for years. Never losing his cool or interfering, Sathyu helped every artiste to understand Dara rather than enact him. He wanted every actor, however insignificant his or her role, to know what needs to be conveyed to the audience. Not used to this artistic freedom, our actors were initially confused. One could hear whispers that the director was not directing enough. Sathyu did not lose patience and kept working in his unique style. During the day and late night, he would sit at his friend DS Jain’s house and draw numerous sketches of sets, costumes, footwear, stage properties, jewellery and moustaches, beards and wigs to be used. He was a five-in-one director, designing virtually every thing that the play needed and finally designing and executing lighting of the play. Seldom have I seen a director take so much upon himself. In the evening, he would oversee the rehearsals and yet find time to socialise with his numerous well wishers and friends.

As the day of the opening approached, one could sense a certain nervousness in every one except the super cool director. What are we doing? Is it correct? Will it make a good stage play? Why does the director not tell us more?

In the meantime, Sathyu had Ustad Iqbal Ahmed Khan, “Khalifa” of Delhi Gharana of Hindustani classical music compose music to project the sublime poetry of Quli Qutub Shah and Walli Dakhni. The music was recorded.

Rani Khanum, the well known Kathak exponent specialising in choreographing Sufi numbers, was roped in for choreography. Rani Khanum and her team of ten talented Kathak dancers, a mix of boys and girls, lent a spiritual air to the production.

Every one in the production felt that we had a good script, good music, excellent costumes, a simple uncluttered set, good Kathak element but would all this bind together into a good play? Will actors deliver? With each passing day, the tension among the team was becoming unbearable. Except Sathyu, everyone, including me, the producer, was tense. The grand rehearsal on the eve of the premiere also did not help allay these fears.

Finally, the day of reckoning arrived. The call time at the theatre was 2 PM but in their nervousness, artistes had started arriving earlier. It seemed every one was worried whether the audience will understand the message we were trying to convey. A packed house is normally a morale-boosting thing for any performer but it can also create an adverse fear. One saw one’s friends, relatives, acquaintances, regular theatre goers and gate crashers amongst the audience. When the third bell rang, a silent prayer was on everyone’s lips.

Two hours later, at the curtain call, a standing ovation said it all. It seemed Sathyu had worked a miracle. His simple sets, imaginative lighting, visually elegant costumes had cast a spell. There were hugs and smiles all around and every one realised what the vision of a great director can do. I also patted myself for making the right choice. Right from the day Sathyu joined us to the day of the premiere, he maintained his calm dignity and a winsome smile. fter Delhi the production travelled to various cities including Mumbai, Dharwad, Mysore, Sanehalli, Bengaluru, Chandigarh, Pune, Lucknow, Sonipat, etc.

This story of my production will not be complete if I do not mention the apathy or neglect of all governmental agencies whose job it is to promote arts. Neither during nor after the production a single agency approached us with a word of appreciation or help of any kind, forget about holding further shows. We had no sponsorship – either state or private. My conviction is that these agencies are meant to promote a few vested interests and if something good gets done, it might be incidental. Every artiste needs support, more so financial, but it must come with the grace of a culturist, not the crassness of a trader.

After our production of Dara Shikoh, Madeeha Gauhar and her husband Shahid Nadeem of Ajokha Theatre, Lahore, did an excellent production of their own script and brought it to India. Also I am told two more versions of the play were produced by other theatre groups in Delhi. It gives me immense satisfaction that the subject was liked by the audience.

In conclusion, I would like to humbly submit that let us resolve to combat fundamentalism of every kind by spreading the message of love and amity as conceived by Dara Shikoh – a great votary of composite culture.