AT 39, Feroz Khan carries a weight on his shoulders. Controversy, like success, is a lamb, following him wherever he goes—the latest snafu occurring in edgy, post-Pokhran
Pakistan. Performances of Tumhari Amrita, slotted for May 22-May 29, were cancelled at the last minute in Karachi and other cities, despite the fact that the tickets were sold out. Says a disappointed Shabana 'Amrita' Azmi: "The theatres have been receiving threatening calls, forbidding them from associating with Indian artistes."
On a long-distance call from Lahore, Khan was left wondering, "If cricket which evokes stronger passions and trade between the two countries can go on, why not art? Is it because art is a soft target and does not have the financial stakes that cricket does?" At the same time, he accepts responsibility for putting Tumhari Amrita on a weak wicket there. "The permissions and the visas were given after the nuclear tests. But it was jointly decided by the Citizen's Foundation and me that this wasn't the right moment in time to put up a performance. Especially with people being preoccupied by what is happening across their border." The disappointment is unmistakable: Feroz Khan had dropped out of the US tour of his Mahatma vs Gandhi for his first-ever trip to Pakistan.
And once more, his self-coined curse—"Nothing fails like success"—has visited him. Every milestone on the director's "vitae stats" has been a millstone. Now, Tumhari Amrita. Then, Mahatma vs Gandhi, a particularly painful one as Feroz moved from acclaim to controversy. Churned over the dramatisation of a highly volatile relationship between Bapuji and his first-born, the grand-daughters of Harilal Gandhi publicly declared their displeasure. "Feroz Khan promised to show us the script but finally didn't," announced Urmi Desai. "Besides, what is the point in talking about the personal lives of two people who are no more around to defend themselves. Who is to know the truth?" By Khan's own admission, the truth—and not experimenting with it—was core to his preoccupation with the play. Khan put his script through the grind, even incorporating the information furnished by Harilal's grand-daughters.
Denying charges of being a Giant-killer, the Peter Brooke fan says, "Mahatma vs Gandhi was a test because it was a play in which we had material which could have become sensational. I didn't have an agenda and I was in a dilemma about how to adhere to the truth. Based on extensive research, detailed discussions with Gandhian scholars, fundamental changes have been made. But I believe that artistic endeavours should not be stifled because it falls short of personal yardsticks. Because that would become fundamentalism of a sort that Gandhi himself was opposed to. The demythification of Gandhi shows his humaneness and both, the Mahatma and his son, are shown to have integrity."
Stumped over sponsorship, Khan determinedly subsidised a few shows to make it accessible to a wider audience. "Feroz's approach to drama is a far more 'educated' one compared to other directors. He has a tremendous sense of what will be financially viable as well as an innate sense of perceiving what will appeal to the audience. He goes beyond the mere entertainment value that a play provides for two hours," observes Farooque Shaikh, who played Zulfikar Haider in Khan's Tumhari Amrita.
The young director has dodged labels. He has leapt across languages—the Gujarati tragic romance Eva Mumbai Ma Chaal Jaiye (1991) to the Anupam-Kiron Kher Hindi play Saalgirah (1994) to the Naseeruddin Shah-starrer Mahatma vs Gandhi (1997). Spanning the rich vastness of the Inca civilisation in first success The Royal Hunt of the Sun (1990) to the physically threadbare Tumhari Amrita (1992), he has disregarded set patterns of casting, choice of subject. Of late, however, he has been accused of repeatedly opting for all-star casts. A quicksilver defence follows: "Eva Mumbai Ma Chaal Jaiye had virtual newcomers. The audience might walk in with the star in mind. But if they leave with the star, then the play is a flop. The guarantee of success is the play—not the star. Again, my plays have always been more important that my individual standing. I leave no stamp and I don't like to repeat myself."
On the personal front too, Feroz Khan has shrugged off slots. The "regular Bambaiya guy with no intellectual pretences" defied residence: from boyhood in Dongri to creme-de-la-creme Churchgate. Education in six different schools with a Commerce degree from Narsee Munjee College was part of the game. "Our cricket teams were named Charsee Munjee and Narsee Munjee," he laughs. Then an attempt at Chartered Accountancy articleship while contemplating the great existence question: "Can money be made out of theatre?"
THE answer was a resounding no. Several seasons in Prithvi laid the board bare: The Jennifer Kendal inspirational catch-line "making money is not as important as liking what you do" was brilliantly balanced with the realisation that "if you don't meet costs then theatre won't survive." The knowledge was to sustain the Prithvi Theatre Festivals which commenced in 1985, a year after Jennifer's death and subsequently Feroz's own journey as honorary director with the theatre outfit. Marriage with the beautiful Sonya Patwa—a theatre buff who now helps out in production—was followed by a two-year stint in a managerial position with Garden Silks. Both threw up a few ponderables. "I couldn't understand how Sonya's parents accepted me. I had no bank balance, no job, no clue about the future. You don't get married to a man because he acted well in a play," he ribs.
Rejection had caught up with the young actor earlier, however. Riding high on the success of the Shafi Inamdar-directed Ekshuff (1980), Rajshri Productions summoned the budding star. "I was made to wait for seven hours. That day I realised that I might be a great actor on stage but off it I'm a nobody. It was also a day I abandoned all ideas of becoming a Hindi film actor," he confesses.
Today the self-made producer-director calls the shots. Far away from the bylanes of bankruptcy—including a role as executive producer of the Shashi Kapoor-directed, Amitabh Bachchan-starrer Ajooba (1988-'90)—the success of Feroz's shows have poured into the UN coffers. "I don't think I'm fully satisfied with the work I have done. But my happiest moment was when we raised money for the earthquake victims of Latur. It meant that my work has a purpose beyond performing for audiences," he says. In fact, proceeds of the performances in Pakistan had been earmarked for the Citizen's Foundation work for underprivileged children.
Inside the NCPA library, the Feroz file has filled up to capacity. Outside, productions of the Feroz Khan's 'Platform Theatre Company' fill up the halls. Kiron Kher, who played the fiery Sonali in Saalgirah, labels his art as "mastering the right mix of the popular and the aesthetic. " Saalgirah has touched the century mark; All The Best has tucked 210 shows; Mahatma vs Gandhi is going great guns at 30. Tumhari Amrita which originally set out as a four-show tribute to Jennifer Kendal has clocked more than 200 shows.
"Nothing can be said about the Tumhari Amrita Pakistan tour right now," says Feroz, "but we are quite determined to foster the cultural links between the two countries. And the play speaks a language that both countries understand."
"One hopes that this is not the final curtain for Tumhari Amrita in Pakistan," says Shabana of the director she calls "intense and unrelenting." Maybe, just maybe, Pakistan will retaliate to the fury of the Pokhran blasts with the sound of applause to Tumhari Amrita.
