“A land that needs a hero is unhappy.” Maharaj Krishan Raina likes to adopt this famous quote by German playwright Bertolt Brecht in a country that indulges in hero worship.
For the past several years, this veteran theatre artist has camouflaged his faith with a gentle smile and has used culture as a catalyst for socio-political change in sensitive parts of the country. Be it Punjab, Kashmir or the North East, Raina says his mantra has always been, “I don’t want to be a hero.” His art always speaks.
During the pandemic, the 70-year-old found time to look back on his career; the result is an extremely readable article. before I forget (Published by Penguin Classics) This memoir describes the historical events that shaped Raina and influenced his art.
MK Raina poses in front of a still from his film adaptation King Lear Band Pather form of Kashmiri folk theatre | Photo courtesy: Anuj Kumar
Deep Recall
The theft of the holy relic from the Hazratbal shrine in his hometown Srinagar in 1963, the anti-Sikh riots in Delhi in 1984, the brutal murder of cultural activist and close friend Safdar Hashmi in 1989, the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, the aftermath of the demolition of the Babri Masjid in 1992 and the ethnic tensions in the North East – the memoir is like a screenplay in which it is impossible to take sides and only lessons can be learnt. No wonder his friend, director Sudhir Mishra is considering scripting a film from Raina’s rich memories.
An actor-writer-activist who stuck to his point of view even in turbulent circumstances, at times life-threatening, Raina has penned some life-shaking moments. Like in his plays, in real life too, Raina avoids cliches and finds humour and hope in the darkness. Taking a line from his famous play on the Oppenheimer trial, much before Christopher Nolan understood the relevance of the physicist, Raina says he doesn’t like to follow the ideas of others.
In Safdar’s case, he had questioned disruptive forces along with his friends, including actress Shabana Azmi, at the opening ceremony of the International Film Festival of India in Delhi.
A few years later, after the demolition of the Babri Masjid, Raina again came to the forefront and coined the slogan: Now there will be no slogans, we just have to save the country (Now there will be no sloganeering, there will only be talk of saving the country) and asked a question to Atal Bihari Vajpayee.
When Kashmiri Pandits were driven out of their homes, he blamed the silence of secularists for pushing the Pandits and the political narrative into the hands of the right-wing ecosystem.
“We can’t stop being citizens,” says Raina. He finds inspiration in the statue of Buddha, in which he is in deep meditation with one hand touching the ground.
“I analyse it myself, because if you stay grounded you can’t go wrong.”
MK Raina at his residence in Noida | Photo Credit: Anuj Kumar
Often, he says, stinging nettle is treated with another grass that grows nearby. “You just have to look for it.”
He says that exploration has great importance in the Indian tradition.
,The disciple asks the master a question (The disciple asks the guru for an answer). This is in our Puranas. This is the essence of the Bhagavad Gita. Unfortunately, this tradition is diminishing.”
Raina describes himself as a “product of socialist India”, which provided him with cheap books and the opportunity to hone his craft at the National School of Drama.
“Most of us were from humble backgrounds, with a rich storehouse of traditions and no inferiority complex.” He was perhaps the first person who truly followed the aim of a theatre school: to take the art form to the grassroots level.
Battling conservatism, Raina worked hard to revive folk theatre in the Kashmir Valley at the turn of the millennium. “I revived my ties with the villages of traditional artists spread across the area between Anantnag and Pahalgam and worked quietly. I did not seek refuge from the authorities and never allowed anyone to publicly claim that Raina had come to work with them.”
He mingled with the local people and provided them opportunities to contribute to theatre.
“We requested local potters to make masks and tailors to adapt their crafts to create costumes. A trunk maker worked to design prosthetic swords.”
Tough battles
When the number of spectators reached 5,000, the separatists became aware of the presence of Raina and his team in Pir Panjal.
“They tried to sabotage our efforts, but by then the villagers had realised the role of culture in bringing out repressed emotions. They would tell the gun-wielding men: Now you won’t even let me laugh(Now you won’t even let us laugh).”
Raina recalls his acting career that began with Avtar Kaul’s avant-garde film 27 Down With Rakhee, in which he played a ticket collector. Shot on a real train, Raina remembers how the authorities bowed down to the persistence of the young team.
“Shooting on platforms and trains was not very expensive as long as you could hide the cameras. In fact, at times passengers would mistake me for the real TC. Shooting on railway stations and trains became expensive only when BR Chopra Burning Train,
Raina worked with art cinema stalwarts such as Mani Kaul and Mrinal Sen.
“We were part of a movement that believed in healthy theatre and wanted to carry forward the same sensibility in cinema as well, but the movement ended when filmmakers started roping in stars under box office pressure.”
