This is not a play review

Over the past 2 years of being in Mumbai, I have noticed that the amount of showmanship surrounding theatre—and the effort around it—feels very different from any other place where I have created and performed.

There is a constant desire to catch attention.
But very little inclination towards dialogue after receiving that attention.

I have always assumed that when we create and perform work, we hold it with care, responsibility, and attention. But increasingly, I have begun to feel that this culture is not really evolving.
People should absolutely have the freedom to put anything on stage. That freedom is necessary. It is how artists fail, discover, question, and grow.

But if there is such a thing as a theatre community, then surely it cannot exist only for encouragement and applause.

Can a community not encourage deeper investigation?
Can it not point towards blind spots?
Can it not ask whether a work reflects responsibility—in its research, representation, ethics, or appropriations?

Recently, I watched a production involving respected artists and institutions. Whether the work succeeded theatrically is not really my concern here. Theatre must be allowed to fail.
What unsettled me was something else.

At multiple instances, the play represented communities, beliefs, and cultural practices with such convenience and such lack of research that it became difficult to ignore.

And all around it was silence.
Instagram photographs.
Congratulations. Smiles.
An atmosphere of: let it pass. Do nothing.

What particularly broke my heart was the use of a sacred ritual belonging to a marginalized community—a ritual holding deep emotional and social significance for people otherwise pushed to the margins by our systems and prejudices.

Within the play, it became a convenient plot device.
Simplified.
Misrepresented.
Detached from the people whose lives give it meaning.

And what troubled me further was how little effort seemed to have gone into understanding it. A simple Google search could have informed the creators more than what was eventually put on stage.

This also brings up another question: distance.
The work brought together artists encountering the material from very different distances. And distance is not neutral. It carries different degrees of access, privilege, and consequence.

The question is not whether artists can engage across cultures—of course we must.
But how do we engage?
With what depth of listening?
With what awareness of power?
With what accountability towards people whose realities are not artistic references, but lived conditions?

I found myself wondering: if someone from that community were sitting in the audience, what would they recognise? And what would they feel had been taken away from them?

Artists who are otherwise vocal about ethics, politics, representation, and care on social media seemed noticeably quieter when those same questions needed to be asked within their own artistic circles.

Perhaps because proximity softens our ability to question.
Distance can create clarity.
But it can also create blindness—especially when it remains unacknowledged.

Over the past weeks, I have sat with an unease—not only about the production, but about the lack of meaningful conversation around it.
I reached out privately to both the producer and the director.
To have a conversation.
There has been no response.

Silence can mean many things.
But silence also accumulates.

As if nothing really matters.
But if nothing matters, theatre too will eventually stop mattering.

I am aware that careless criticism can deeply damage the fragile ecosystem in which artists and art survive. Theatre is difficult. It demands labour, vulnerability, and risk.

I never write publicly about theatre.
But I find myself wondering where the spaces for dialogue really are. They do not need to be formal. They do not need a critic’s review column—though that would also be valuable.

I hope those conversations are happening privately, somewhere. Over chai. After rehearsals. Between friends. In ways that allow artists to rethink, revisit, and deepen their work with care. 

And if not, 
I wish we begin conversations, looking beyond showmanship within our immediate circles.
I wish for a culture of dialogue.
Supporting each other through shared passion and rigorous critical thinking.
A space where artists are free to create and fail—but are also encouraged to evolve.
A space for honesty and commitment towards our own Art.

I wish for our theatre to continue to grow—
with integrity,
with care,
and with fluidity.

— Akhshay Gandhi