Zara Hatke, Zara Bachke, Yeh Hai Bombay Meri Jaan...
The famous yesteryear song of Hindi cinema sums up the spirit of Mumbai and plays throughout- sometimes sung out-loud by the actors while at other times, it's the subtle theme of the scene that is being performed.
Ekjute's YEH HAI BOMBAY MERI JAAN, written and directed by Nadira Zaheer Babbar, is close to completing its 100th performance.
The story revolves around five people from different parts of the country, who build relationships with each other due to the close proximity they share in their one-room-bathroom tenement in Mumbai. As the play goes along, you're soaked in little snippets of their lives - their dreams, ambitions, day to day problems, and their stories from back home, each bringing out a special flavour of the eccentricities of life in Mumbai.
The foundation of this play lies in its characterisations, making it seem as though the play was written for the actors on stage and not the other way round. They are the very embodiment of your stereotypical 'Jat', 'Madrasi', 'Bhojpuri' or 'Muslim' fellow-citizens. Each of the characters pick up on the little idiosyncrasies of their native hometowns - be it their dialects or mannerisms. Individualized cell-phone ringtones add to the humour. The three female characters have brief appearances, but the Christian landlord 'Nancy' is most impactful with her 'Aeyyeh kya hai man' style.
The humour is deliberate. In her style, Nandira Zaheer Babbar passionately plays out the very essence of Mumbai by creating a mini, pan-Indian ethos that is not only culturally diverse but which also incorporates core struggles like inter-caste marriage or Muslim alienation. The chawl provides a good setting. The tempo doesn't drop; the emotionally draining scenes are broken into humorous bits at their peaks making the audience laugh and teary-eyed at the same time.
A wittily written character that can be termed as the 'voice of Mumbai' reappears throughout the play, depicting the characters that are the lifeline of this city -sometimes as the Mumbai-policewalla saying 'Gadbad ahe' or as a Dabba-walla talking about 'the lack of progress of the Marathi people' or as the Parsi uncle reminiscing the old days. At the end, he comes back as Dr Feroz (Bombay-walla- of course) talking about what it means to be a 'Mumbaikar'.
The set is minimalistic. There are cupboards with movie-star posters on it, a small Ganesha temple held up on a wall, and awkwardly placed cots and mats. The lighting is basic but the sound is used compellingly, including an energising song and dance routine on stage. It is well coordinated and directed-with no bloopers or lapses.
It's a long play and the multiplicity of characters and their varied stories can seem much to take after a while. The performances entertain and to survive in the city, you've got to have a sense of humour - nothing can be taken too seriously.
*Shonita Joshi is a freelance journalist with a wide array of interests. She has a major in Economics and Banking and has done her post-graduation in Journalism.
