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Rumi Unveil the Sun poster |
Credits
Written by - Amrit Kent and Mohini Kent
Directed by - Sohaila Kapur
Produced by - Mohini Kent
Music director - Jatinder Singh
Costume designer - Anju Modi
Choreography for Rumi & Shams - Gilles Chuyen
Production designer - Oroon Das
Production manager - Pamela Prakash
Lights – Ishwar
Cast
Jalal al-Din Rumi - Oroon Das
Shams al-Din Tabrizi - Danish Husain
Gohar Khatun - Padma Damodaran
Prime Minister & Hisam al-Din Chalpi - Shorba Bhattacharya
Yusuf & Risal al-Din - Dhruv Jagasia
Sultan Walad - Ashish Paliwal
Salah al-Din Zarkob - Ashish Dharmadhikari
2007 marks the 800th birth anniversary of the famed Sufi poet Jalaluddin Rumi. Author of the Masnavi, one of the greatest works in Persian literature, Rumi has been a celebrated figure in the Islamic World for centuries. Thanks to the tireless work of translators over the last few decades, his mystical poetry has also reached Western audiences who have taken eagerly to his message of divine love and spiritual growth. (It has even been said that Rumi is the most popular poet in America today.)
Mohini Kent Noon's production of Rumi: Unveil the Sun at the Shaw Theatre in London, the UK, (in association with SAMA Arts) gives us tantalizing glimpses of the poet and the person. But in spite of the best efforts of a committed cast, the play ultimately sinks under its own weight.
Co-written by the Indian mother-daughter team of Amrit Kent and Mohini Kent, the play premiered in Delhi, India, earlier this year. It has just completed a brief run in London. Amrit Kent is a scholar of Urdu and appears to be the primary author of the text, while her daughter hosted on the night. Experienced Delhi hand Suhaila Kapur directed.
The audience bore the 40-minute delay at the play's start with good humor. Once they were seated, Mohini briefly guided the audience through a synopsis of Rumi's life for the benefit of those unfamiliar with the story of the evening. Essentially, the play is an exploration of Rumi's encounter with the mystic Tabrizi and the impact that it had on his life.
Setting the Scene
The lively opening sequence sets out the scene. It is winter in Konya, and Yusuf, the owner of a small café, is talking directly to the audience about recent developments in town. The renowned scholar Rumi, pride of all Konya, has been afflicted by a grief so deep that he has practically abandoned his duties at the local madrasah in which he is principal. Not only does Rumi's abstraction affect the learning of his students, but also the economy of the town. And all this because of that accursed Tabrizi, who disappeared a year ago!
The wonderful Ashish Paliwal plays Yusuf, the café owner, with exuberance and earthy charm in what turns out to be one of the acting highlights of the evening.
Unfortunately, the humor and energy of the opening scene is not sustained. Instead, the script plods dutifully through the major episodes of the saga. Jalaluddin is extremely unhappy with his lot in life, in spite of his far-flung fame as a scholar and teacher. He is restless and seeks to meet one who will stir his soul and give direction to his life.
We are treated to scenes at the madrasah: Rumi holding forth in front of his students with a mixture of homespun analogy and erudite wisdom. Into this setting walks Tabrizi, who asks Rumi to tear himself away from the dead learning of books and to aspire to communion with a higher spirit.
Tabrizi accuses Rumi of seeking the esteem of his fellow men instead of fearlessly pursuing the true abandon of the unworldly. The famous scene in which Tabrizi threw a volume of Fariduddin Attar (work of a Persian Sufi poet accredited by some to be a main inspiration for Rumi) into the well, only for Rumi to discover that the pages had stayed bone-dry, is reenacted. Eventually, after much to-and-fro, Rumi gives in to Tabrizi's calls and the two begin to twirl in tandem as the curtain falls down on us at the interval.
Slow Circles
This play's problem is this: The cast is poorly served by a stilted script that is not helped by the director's decision to take things at a snail's pace. Tabrizi and Rumi go slowly round and round in their theological debate.
Yet it did not have to be so. Abstruse arguments about religion can proceed at a cracking pace, as was demonstrated by the Globe Theatre's production of In Extremis in which audiences eagerly lapped up religious talk in the context of the love between Abelard and Heloise. Unfortunately, Kapur's direction misses the trick. Even some of the scenery changes could have been done with a bit of briskness.
Cast Away
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| Oroon Das' outstanding performances saves the play. |
The script also does a less-than-perfect job in describing Rumi's motivations for change. The early scenes that sketch his restlessness barely explain the dramatic transformations that follow. Nonetheless, the situation is largely salvaged by the actor Oroon Das.
Cast in the central role, Das plays Rumi with immense power and conviction, and it is on his performance that the evening hangs together. His interpretation makes the poet appealingly human — a man of flesh and blood rather than the quasi-mythical philosopher of legend. Das is blessed with a fine singing voice, which he makes good use of during the course of the play, when he breaks out into song at a dramatic point. He is also, according to the program notes, the designer of the simple but elegant sets.
On the other hand, the role of Tabrizi is fatally miscast. Danish Husain may be a good actor, but he fails to convince as the object of Rumi's affection. Husain was easily the weakest link in the cast, and the play seemed to grind down to a halt every time he took the stage. Rather unfortunate really, given that the rest of the cast strive so resolutely to make the production engaging and believable.
Set, Go!
The plot set into action after the interval.
Rumi's followers plot to bring about Tabrizi's downfall. Rumi's son Alauddin, played by Zain Sikander Bhana, scowls, snarls, and struts on stage while the evil courtier Risaluddin (Ashish Paliwal again, utterly transformed) pours poison into the ears of the local Seljuk lord, souring him against Tabrizi's alien influence. Singing and dancing on the streets of Konya? "Intolerable!" they declare. Of course, the prime minister is more concerned about falling revenues in the treasury than the moral status of his town.
Tabrizi has "disappeared" and Rumi succumbs to his sorrow. His long-suffering wife Gohar Khatun attempts to comfort him, only to be rudely spurned. And then she finds out that her son may be the killer. Padma Damodaran excels in the role of Khatun. Eventually, Rumi's grief lights the fuse of his lyric poetry, he goes back to the madrasah, and a measure of peace is restored to Konya. Yusuf the shopkeeper goes back to making money, once again selling halwa (Arabic for "sweets") and sweet tea to the students.
A passable production then, saved by the talented and hard-working cast, in spite of a flawed script and some pretty ordinary direction. Happily, the 450-seater Shaw Theatre was nearly full, as London's resident Indian population turned out in droves to catch a glimpse of some homemade drama.
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