A singer-poet of longings
By N.S. Tasneem
WHEN a poet faces the hostile world, he pours his protest into verses. The traumatic feelings of having been misunderstood find expression in angry tones. Sardar Panchhi is one such poet, who is fighting against all odds with his back to the wall.

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New chapter in Punjabi theatre?
By Chaman Ahuja

IS this the time to celebrate the birth of new Punjabi playwright, or a moment to bemoan the loss of a big opportunity that came the way of Punjabi theatre? Only time will tell.

One generally feels that the stunted growth of theatre in the region is due to the absence of good playwriting. It was therefore a matter of joy to know that the Sangeet Natak Akademi, Delhi, had in 1994 launched a scheme of playwrights’ workshops and that, after conducting workshops in Tamil and Gujarati, it had chosen Punjabi for the next workshop in 1998. The recent presentation of Preet Mohinder Singh Sekhon’s “Dhol Sipahi” under the direction of Kewal Dhaliwal at Amritsar signified the culmination of that workshop which involved a long process of talent-scouting, screening, selection and discussion of promising plays, and finalisation of this script in collaboration with the director.

As a part of the workshop, in November 1998, at Patiala, two other plays were also read, tried and discussed — “Freedom Fighter” by Sanjeevan Singh form Mohali and “Nikki Bole Payee” by Prabhjot from Delhi — before the Expert Committee (comprising B.R. Bhargava, J.N. Kaushal, Charan Das Sidhu, Atamjit, Surjit Patar) chose “Dhol Sipahi” for the final phase. The idea was to encourage talented writers to take to playwriting and give the most promising of them the benefit of interaction with an established director so that at least one script is worked to perfection and the playwright gets the chance to acquire first-hand familiarity with practical theatre which, it is hoped, will help him write better plays later, independently.

While the Akademi feels that its objective has been truly realised by “Dhol Sipahi”, while the playwright is convinced that the workshop has really opened his mind, while the director has reason to feel satisfied with the results of his collaborative efforts and while half-a-dozen other budding playwrights who participated as observers acknowledge their gaining a lot from the experience, there is no dearth of doubting Thomases who wonder if the ultimate product, “Dhol Sipahi”, was really worth the lakhs of rupees spent by the Akademi. Maybe, it is unfair to expect a fledgling playwright to come out in his first play with a masterpiece; maybe, the real gain is to be assessed not in terms of one production or one playwright but in creating a playwriting environment. Since it is too early to talk about the gain in respect of the environs, for the time being, we have to be content with the tangible yield of “Dhol Sipahi” — and, in that too, the focus has to be not on the production but on the play as a script.

As Preet Mohinder told the audience gathered to discuss his play, having been born and brought up in a village near Mansa, he had had very little chance of exposure to modern theatre. The only plays that he had seen in his formative early years were short pieces presented at the end of communist conferences; later, he was exposed to radio drama and his first assays at writhing pertained to plays for ‘Dehati’ programme on All India Radio where he is now an announcer at Patiala. During a stint at Chandigarh, he was so impressed by “Sadran” directed by Mohan Maharshi that he saw all its three shows and developed a secret ambition to write for theatre. “Dhol Sipahi” is his first effort in that direction.

“Dhol Sipahi” is a play about the people who serve as roots for others but have no roots of their own. Though the story of the struggle of a family of small tillers against grinding poverty, it reflects the fate of the entire farming community. As a widow tries to make both ends meet, her elder son resents the fact that instead of helping him in the field, his younger brother is going to school; later when the mother gets loan from her former lover and arranges the weddings of her only daughter as well as the younger son, the elder, unmarried brother gets his share of the land and takes to hard drinking. The inability to repay the loan precipitates the younger brother’s joining the Army; later, reported missing for years, he is assumed dead by the family and the girl is married, a la chaddar, to the elder brother who gives up drinking. When a child is born and all appears to go well, “dhol sipahi” (who has been a prisoner of war all these years) returns with a crippled leg. Where are my roots, asks the soul-tormented wife who knows not where she belongs.

Episodic in texture, the play is in chaste Malvai dialect that reminds one again and again of Ajmer Singh Aulakh’s mastery of the local idiom. In fact, Aulakh’s shadow looms large thematically, structurally as well as linguistically; even otherwise too, the play cannot claim credit for anything original or off-beat. Indeed, it is a typical Punjabi play — with the same melodramatic tenor, the same stereotyped characters, the same obsession with poverty and Jat morality as if nothing else happens in this land of the five rivers. Worse, Dhaliwal’s contribution also lies in adding his own characteristic gimmicks, unnecessary rituals and dream sequences, etc.

Well, surely, the script has changed in certain ways since the Patiala stage — mercifully, suicide and drunken scenes are gone. However, one cannot help wondering if all changes are for the better. If anything, some of the changes have made the script somewhat flabby. The discussants of the play at Amritsar talked about the staleness of the plot, the clubbing together of too many themes, the redundant and stock characters, the uniform graph of tension throughout, the inorganic imposition of comic relief and the need for shortening or even jettisoning of the first part.

Indeed, when all is said and done, “Dhol Sipahi” is a good Punjabi play, but, being along the all-too familiar lines, it does not prompt one to hope that it is going to signify the start of a new chapter in Punjabi theatre. True, Sekhon is well-rooted, but he would do well to remember that vitally important though the roots are, what matters even more is the plant or the tree that they produce. Anyway, one can piously hope that, having learnt his lessons through “Dhol Sipahi” as an exercise, Preet Mohinder will attempt something new in his next venture. In this context, one might as will recall what a wise guy once said — that when a child starts walking, the important thing is the first step and not the direction of that first step or how big or firm that first step is. Let’s, therefore, celebrate; bemoaning, if necessary, can wait.

A singer-poet of longings
By N.S. Tasneem

WHEN a poet faces the hostile world, he pours his protest into verses. The traumatic feelings of having been misunderstood find expression in angry tones. Sardar Panchhi is one such poet, who is fighting against all odds with his back to the wall. In 1984 hooligans first looted his house at Rae Bareli and then set it ablaze without giving the poet a chance to rescue even his manuscripts. It was the place he had made his home after Partition. He once again migrated to a new place, Ludhiana, but not without lodging his protest:

Bewafa lagta raha ya bawafa lagta raha,
Sheharwalo sach kaho main tumko kya lagta raha...

(Did I appear loyal or disloyal to you? Tell me the truth, O’ the dwellers of my city, how did you fancy me?).

In Ludhiana he found himself, to his consternation, an alien. He was doled out lipsympathy in abundance, but no genuine help came forth. If someone were to ask him at that time what he needed most, his reply would have been: “My self-respect, of course”. In that peculiar state of his mind, he composed a ghazal:

Laaee hai kis muqaam pe yeh zindagi mujhe,
Apna wajood lagta hai ab ajnabi mujhe...

(What place is this where life has abandoned me? I regard myself a total stranger here).

The imagery of fire predominates Sardar Panchhi’s poetry. He always sees around him a dance of sparks. His house at Rae Bareli was torched at night and the world became dark for him when the sun rose in the morning. In some of his ghazals he uses lamp as a metaphor for dispelling the darkness of the night. At the same time it is a prelude to sunrise:

Andheri raat mein tapkega khoon-e-dil jis mein,
Us se charagh se suraj nikal raha hoga...

(In the darkness of the night, my heart’s blood will trickle down into the lamp. From that very lamp, the sun will rise in the morning).

Basically Sardar Panchhi is a poet of love and beauty. He is at his best when he meditates on the joys of life. He has a tendency to identify himself fully with the object of his contemplation. He feels intensely and records the tremors of his sensitive mind meticulously:

Hina mein, phool mein, moti mein,ya ke deepak mein,
Hum apne khoon ki rangat kahaan talaash karein...

(Where else can I find the hue of my blood except in hina, a flower, a pearl or a lamp?)

Sardar Panchhi’s poetry embodies the music of words. His unique sense of rhythm, cadence and resonance is quite obvious in his couplets. No wonder his poetry lends itself so readily to reputed singers. He himself has been endowed with a mellifluous voice that enthrals the audience at literary functions. On his part, while listening to music, he is transported to the world of imaginative flights. In those supreme moments he is in tune with the muse and composes inimitable geets, some of which have found their way into the world of films.

He is not self-centred but, at the same time, he is not self-effacing. He wants to establish his identity on the basis of his pristine poetic sensibilities. The image of a poet that emerges in his poetry is that of a person caught in the labyrinths of longings. These are, of course, concerned with his love of beauty, the glimpse of which he craves for in all its manifestations:

Hum ne tere khayal ki titli daboch lee,
Sab rang kayenaat ke mutthi mein aa gaye...

(I have secured in my hand, the butterfly of my idea of your loveliness. Thus have I in my grip all the colours of the universe).

Now, when he is in his late 60s, he is faced with some new challenges. This is the time of his life when he is supposed to rest on his laurels. But ironically, he finds himself involved, with each passing day, in the inanities of existence. On his part, he is not asking for the moon. He merely wants some space, in this agonising period of mad race, to plan his life anew. He longs for the full flowering of his creativity. But that is possible only when:

Ik dooje ke aansu lekar,
Ik dooje ko khushian dein,
Shamme-mohabbat ka yeh ujaala,
Aao har atraaf karen...

(Let’s exchange our joys with the tears of others. Let the glow of the lamp of love diffuse itself in all directions).

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Salman joins singing brigade

HELLO BROTHER (Tips): Amitabh Bachchan had them; so did Govinda. So why shouldn’t Salman Khan have singing pretensions? Well, he has got his chance in this home production and makes the most of it. The strange thing is that he is almost in tune and had it not been for his name on the cover, the voice could have passed off as belonging to one of those lesser singers who are promoted by composers off and on. While rendering Chandi ki daal par … with Alka Yagnik, he puts humour to good use. The heartening sign is that he has sung only one song.

Composer Himesh Reshammiya does not have any set style and has used this freedom to come up with a variety of songs. They may not be very polished, but are different from the run-of-the-mill stuff. Sonu Nigam tries a change of image in a tapori song, Area ka hero hoon … with Hema Sardesai. He does the same in the title song also where his co-singers are Kamaal Khan and Jaspinder Narula.

The B side of the cassette is full of remixes. Teri chunariya … (Alka Yagnik, Kumar Sanu), Hello brother …, Chupke se koi … and Hata sawan ki ghata … all have their remix versions. So, actually, the cassette has only five or six songs.

Himesh is supported by Sajid-Wajid in the composing department. Lyrics are by Jalees Sherwani, Faiz Anwar and Sudhakar Sharma.

MERI JAAN HINDUSTAN (Tips): In the Kargil days, patriotism sells. So here is a cassette of such songs. The positive thing is that for every cassette sold, Tips is donating the entire Rs 45 to the families of the war heroes of Kargil. So it is not the songs but the spirit that counts.

Some of the songs are from recent films like Jalwa jalwa …and Is paar sarhad … from “Hindustan ki Kasam”, Zindagi maut na ban jaye … from “Sarfarosh” and Humko to rehna hai … from “Chinagate”. One is not from films (Mere watan Hindustan … sung by Hema Sardesai) and the rest are the remix versions of old patriotic songs. Kar chale hum fida jaan-o-tan sathiyo … and Aey mere pyaare watan … have been sung by Sooraj Kumar while Allah tero naam … from “Hum Dono” which is not a patriotic number at all, and Aey mere watan ke logo … have been redone by Vandana Bajpai.

MUKHDA DEKH KE (T-Series): With the success of Punjabi singers on the all-India level, more and more regional singers are getting a break on the national circuit. Harbhajan Mann seems set to make it big through the repeated telecast of promotional videos. Here it is Surjit Bindrakhiya who tries his luck. The cassette has been presented by Shamsher Sandhu who has written five of the eight songs. Kulwinder Gandhonwala, Billa Lasoiwala and Mandip and Jagdev Mann have contributed one each.

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The remix business is thriving. Magnasound has come up with a medley of Daler Mehndi’s previous hits which have been given still funkier tunes. These have been variously named as Patiala Mix and Dream House Mix and Dollar Mehndi Mix. On the other hand, Milestone Entertainment has released a cassette of Anamika with two new mixes, Nindra … which is called Alternative Mix and Intezaar … (called Appetite 4 Groove Mix). Frankly, I am all mixed up.