Director Mahmood Farooqui On His Prison Memoir: ‘Tihar Was Both A Curse And A Benediction’
· Free Press Journal
Between 2015 and 2017, theatre practitioner and dastango Mahmood Farooqui spent 18 months in Tihar jail before Delhi High Court acquitted him of a crime he had been accused of by an American researcher. Ten years after his agonising term in Asia’s biggest prison complex, Farooqui has written a moving account of his time there, called The Tihar Players: A Prison Memoir (a handsomely-mounted book that could have been better proof-read by its publisher, Juggernaut). The rigours of prison life were harsh, but Farooqui’s stay in Tihar was not one of unrelieved agony. He was fortunate to be able to start drama classes with a group of Tihar’s largely uneducated inmates and put up plays not just within the jail but, by invitation of the Director General of Prisons, at public spaces like the Dilli Haats, albeit with machine-gun wielding commandos guarding the premises.
We spoke to the writer-director-actor about his experience in staging such shows and what he gained from his tenure in prison.
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Excerpts from the interview:
How did you cater to an audience comprising Tihar inmates, who were a far cry from the ticket-paying art-lovers at Prithvi Theatre, Mumbai, or the silk-clad, elite audience of India International Centre, Delhi?
I started slowly, hesitantly. The first play I devised was Premchand’s Nasha. I expanded the story to include humorous scenes, like chaotic railway stations that prisoners would identify with, and jail lingo like afran lena (to be haughty) and lakdi uthana (ask for trouble). Instead of being preachy and moralistic I included characters they would recognise, like a hypocritical man getting trapped in the riches of a zamindar. I also included foot-tapping songs to illustrate carefree attitudes to life. Staged in different wards of the prison, Nasha got a mixed response: ranging from the enthusiastic in the buzurg and vipassna wards to a lobotomised one in the de-addiction ward.
When staging Ramleela I had scenes like Kumbhakaran demanding booze and non-vegetarian food from the superintendent which brought on a lot of laughs as both these things are not permitted in Tihar.
Gradually, I ventured to stage serious plays like Swadesh Deepak’s Court Martial. The audience of its first show included the DG and several superintendents from other jails. They enjoyed it so much they came up on the makeshift stage and shook hands with all of us!
When we performed for Tihar Abhiyan at outside venues like Dill Haat, cops, holding our hands tight, led us to the stage. But I noticed tears in the DG’s eyes when performers Bhanu and Gopal narrated Dastan-e Karn. And the cop who wouldn’t let go of my hand became a good friend!
Was it cathartic for prisoners to act in and watch plays like Nasha and Court Martial?
Yes, particularly Court Martial. Because it is about the trial of an underdog. On the face of it, it seems like an open and shut case against the accused—a dalit soldier who has shot his senior--but the plot gets complicated when the determined defence lawyer makes the judge see merit in his arguments. The plot of a trial unfolding and an accused being stoutly defended was a riveting one for the Tihar audience; and the details of the mitigating circumstances that caused the murder, struck a deep, emotional chord with them.
Coming a full circle, ten years later, your former jail-mates performed Jail Ki Pehli Raat at the launch of your book, at IIC, Delhi. Tell us about that.
It was truly a memorable evening! The performers were core players of my drama group at Tihar. Generously, they took time out from their busy schedules to attend rehearsals, which meant a loss of earnings for those who work as daily wage labourers. They were absolutely outstanding, especially Bhanu the lead actor, who brought tears to peoples’ eyes with his electrifying performance. Their re-creation of the oppression and humiliation that every inmate undergoes was so convincing that the audience, including activist Gautam Navlakha, retired High Court and Supreme Court judges and eminent lawyers, gave them a standing ovation.
Actor Naseeruddin Shah, who read an extract from my book, sat with the actors in the green room and clicked pictures with them. Praising them sky-high, he said, “I have rarely seen even professional actors being so unselfconscious. It was one of the most authentic performances I have ever seen.”
I couldn’t have asked for a better book launch.
Writer & Director Sanjeev Dixit On Creating His Play 'Still Dancing': ‘I Became The Custodian Of A Family’s Deepest Emotions’Looking back, how would you describe your eventful 18 months in Tihar?
As I say in the book, Tihar is a place where time stops and eternity begins; so you have a lot of time for reflection.
You are reduced to your bare bones here, stripped of everything that you have accomplished. But I was very lucky I found people who liked and respected me. Zillat mein izzat mili. I was fortunate I got time to read and write a lot. My term in Tihar re-booted and rejuvenated me as an artiste. For many years I had been doing only dastangoi. At Tihar I once again started directing plays. I enjoyed the ennobling, creative process of doing so and the joy it brought for the inmates who would forget where they were, even if briefly. I enjoyed the validation and applause. It was a re-birth for me as an artiste. Tihar was thus both, a curse and a benediction.