The theme was left to the contesting troupes to choose. They came up with plays about the exploitation of the poor, widow remarriage, the plight of Kashmiris and other such noble thought-provoking causes. Sad soliloquies were delivered, impassioned tirades launched. No play was complete without copious shedding of tears.

Not to take away from the efforts of the young men and women who put these plays together (I’m sure some of them will make a big name for themselves in professional theatre) but it must be asked: why was there no play that could let us relax and smile, and reach for no high moral purpose? Is it that to be considered worthy of winning, it was necessary to be grave?

The answer seems to be Yes. It is a contest, the team has only limited time to make a mark. If all else is equivalent, won’t a serious play be rated over a "light" one? In all probability, it will.

And why just in theatre? Who sweeps away the trophies for Best Leading Actor in films? The guy who plays the schizophrenic, not the guy who plays the buffoon. Which book bags the Booker? The one that dwells on pain and injustice, not the one that narrates a simple romance. Which projects win the best marks in a CompSc course? The ones that describe robots to cure cancer (so what if there is no working robot), not the one that makes a live game of UNIX Solitaire [real story ].

Does a work of art ask to be treated lightly, because its theme is light?

A special thanks for my co-authors Anshu, Arvind and Sreekanth, and all the theatre folks who make watching plays and writing this blog such a pleasure.

A compendium of such inspired moments from plays I’ve watched in 2010.

• Ravi Credit: A couple visits Ravi’s shop, asks for something on credit. A quiet plea, a hesitant yes. All seems harmless and above board but before you know it the scene has snowballed into a synchronized scream. A flock of villagers whirl in and strip the shop bare to the refrain of "Ravi credit" as Ravi looks on, bewildered. [Miss Meena]

• For her sake, not mine: All is not hunky dory in the friendship of Elling and Kjell Bjarne ever since Kjell Bjarne has been smitten by A Woman. On a group trip, the friends have a tiff before bed-time. Elling can barely sleep when, to his joy, Kjell Bjarne comes knocking. His joy has a short life – Kjell Bjarne has not returned to make up for the quarrel. In that fleeting moment, Elling reflects the quick turn of emotions, as if a light switch has been turned off. [Elling]

• Draupadi sings: An octogenarian male wearing billowing skirts and passing off as Draupadi sounds like the stuff of lowbrow comedy. It is anything but. In this Gondhal performance, any giggles this spectacle may have brought about are silenced when Draupadi begins to sing. Lokshahir Vitthal’s sonorous voice treads the octave as only the gifted can. And Draupadi comes to life. [Lokmahabharat]

• Space Traveller says Yo!: One actor, 30 seconds, 7 roles. Happens in One Small Step. Each of those seven characters introduces himself with a different voice, expression and attitude. There is no pause while this happens, the audience holds its breath to take in the fast-paced transitions. The seventh character in line says the single word – Yo!– and the audience bursts into applause. [One Small Step]

• Manjula freezes: Manjula Sharma wraps up her well-rehearsed interview at the TV studio, pleased with the satisfaction of a task successfully done. The cameras stop rolling. She picks up her bag about to leave, when something incredible makes her stop in her tracks. [Broken Images]

I was initially thrilled to see something about an Indian play on the Guardian’s blog. By the end of it, I was rather disappointed.

The article makes statements like:

Bollywood is notorious for churning out vast quantities of films that take pride in being entertainment and nothing more. Young playwrights like Kamatham are stepping in to fill the void.

Ignore for a moment the sweeping generalization about Indian films, just consider: when writing of a play, why has the Guardian theatre blog chosen Bollywood as its yardstick for comparison? Apparently, the audience at New Delhi’s Habitat Centre were gasping at the profanity in this play because:

In a cultural climate dominated by escapist Bollywood  narratives, where a song-and-dance routine is never more than a few minutes away, the concept of realism can be every bit as shocking as the swearing.

How realistic a description is this of the cultural climate to which Indian theatre-goers are exposed? Is it credible that the audience at IHC were shocked over Dancing On Glass because they had not seen anything but escapist Bollywood narratives, and not watched a dark, song-less play before?

Indian theatre and Indian films are entirely different kettles of fish. Unlike our films, song-and-dance routines in our theatre are a rarity – ironically, the musical genre is far more popular on stage abroad.

This is not to knock the praise off Dancing On Glass, but just to point out that candyfloss is not a defining characteristic of our theatre. It’s nice that critics overseas are noticing Indian plays but I hope they will do more in their evaluation than recycle stereotypes about Bollywood.

[Read the DramaDose review of Dancing On Glass.]

Saving a write-up on the play for later, this is just a note about an odd coincidence. In the play, Blanche Dubois says of her sister’s brutish husband Stanley:

He’s just not the sort that goes
for jasmine perfume!

FM radio was on while I was reading this. Guess what played at that very instant:

… Chameli Genda sab raas hain
(Banda ye bindaas hai [2.22])

[which roughly translates to: He likes jasmine and marigold.]

So, Bachchan’s character from Aks doesn’t share tastes with Stanley.

If the propensities of protagonists have any role in deciding hit/flop status, then whoever adapts A Streetcar Named Desire for an Indian audience can take heart from this conclusion.

I wanted something “dramatic” to go with the theme of the blog, at the same time very readable, and this is exactly as I’d wished.

I hope you like it!

Check out Gisele’s other blog designs as well, she’s marvellous.