Tag Archives: Habib Tanvir

अमर नश्वरता का कथावाचक: विजय दान देथा

मृत्युहीन अमरता से बड़ा अभिशाप और कुछ नहीं, विजयदान देथा की एक कहानी में एक कौवा सिकंदर को सीख देता है. फिर भी मृत्यु से दुखी न होना मनुष्यता के विरुद्ध है,यह भी हम जानते हैं. इसलिए कि प्रत्येक व्यक्ति अपनेआप ही ऐसी क्षमताओं और संभावनाओं का आगार है जो उसके अलावा और किसी के पास नहीं होतीं. हमें पता है कि उसके जाते ही वह सब कुछ चला जाता है जो उसने अर्जित किया, संग्रह किया और फिर उसके बल पर  गढ़ा. वह संग्रह और गढ़ने की वह ख़ास कला भी उसके साथ चली जाती है.दुख इससे  हमेशा के लिए वंचित हो जाने का होता है.विजयदान देथा के जाने से हुई तकलीफ और खालीपन दरअसल इस बात के अहसास से पैदा होता  है कि जो प्रयत्न उनके द्वारा संभव हुआ और जिसने प्रसन्न कला का रूप ग्रहण किया, वह कितना विराट और दुष्कर था, इसका आभास हम सबको है. Continue reading अमर नश्वरता का कथावाचक: विजय दान देथा

Old Films: Habib Tanvir

This is an excerpt from HABIB TANVIR’s Memoirs, translated by MAHMOOD FAROOQUI, to be released this evening 7 pm at the India Habitat Centre in Delhi.

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Memoirs by Habib Tanvir, translated by Mahmood Farooqui, Penguin Viking, Delhi, 2013; Rs. 599, pp. 400

First of all there was the bioscope. A woman wearing ghaghra and choli would roam around from mohalla to mohalla calling out to the children and gathering them at a chowk or in large courtyard, would take out a long stool from her arm pit and place it on the ground, would remove an octangular and muddy looking tin box from her head and place it on top which had a small mouth covered by a black cloth which the child would remove and peer inside. The women usually came from Rajasthan. The box would contain ten or fifteen cards of photographs, she would show them one after the other and also introduce them in a particular musical speech, ‘see the Rauza of Taj Bibi, see the Lal Qila of Dilli…etc.’ At one time only one child could see the pictures, which would be projected through a lens and lit up through a bulb inside the box which would make the photographs appear larger and more dramatic. When one child was through another would take his place. A large and restive crowd of children would be gathered around waiting their turn. Even the elders would be eager to see Hindustan through these pictures. She would charge two to three chhedams from everyone who took a peep. When the show was over, she would hawk her way to another mohalla. Continue reading Old Films: Habib Tanvir

An Actor’s Journey from Text to Performance

The revival of Dastangoi completed six years this month

Whenever I begin preparing for a new performance words sit heavy in front of me as boulders. Alien, unknown boulders.  I look up and I see them littered till wherever my eyes can see. I do not know these words. I did not create them. I do not know their context. I do not know what all they hide within. But I have to deal with them.

This is one of the fundamental struggles of an actor. To grapple with the text he intends to perform. Every time I encounter a new text for performance this line from Noon Meem Rashed’s iconic poem “Zindagi Se Darte Ho” comes to haunt me:  Continue reading An Actor’s Journey from Text to Performance