“Theatre is always announced as dead every few years; the silver lining is that it's very much alive and not going away anywhere any time soon.”

I was introduced to the positively intriguing world of Vikram Phukan, not through the doorway of his theatre work but through the window of his highly incisive writings on diverse issues related to films and theatre. Whether his studied summary of Girish Karnad’s autobiographical “Life at Play”, the exploratory tribute to theatre doyen Ebrahim Alkazi, the enduring epitaph on eternal Bollywood Vamp Shashikala and, or the absorbing retrospect of Peter Brook’s Mahabharata on the eve of the belated Padmashree honor of a timeless work.  

The more I read him, the more he resonated with me. Before I knew, I had my questions ready for him, irrespective of whether they made sense or sounded intelligent enough to pass the Turing test of impression. Till date, I have not seen a single play of his, but that did not stop me from approaching him virtually. That he was kind enough to agree to a tete-a-tete with a commoner like me is something I would attribute to serendipity, not to the innate confidence I had in my assumption about his unassuming ways.   

Excerpts from the random Q & A…  

What were your growing up years in Shillong like? 

I travel to Shillong at least once a year these days, and I realize in hindsight what I missed out from the Shillong of the 1980s, which were my growing up years. Of course, There is something timeless about being in Shillong. Every nook and corner are familiar, so it's like you've never been away. It always had this untouched beauty; it was always a foodies' paradise, and it has admirably maintained its distinctive character. But, back in those days, we appeared to have been corralled into parallel cultures — a mini-India in name only – and what was local and rooted seemed just a little out of reach.

Functional business consultancy in the UK to writing to theatre criticism - please unfold the twists, turns and triggers of this delightful trajectory

In the UK, with its unrelenting focus on culture, it is perhaps easy to develop quite the taste for the performing arts. No wonder, I booked my tickets and interval drinks months in advance, traveled miles by train just to catch a performance in another town, stood in line for hours to buy cheap and cheerful seats, while bidding on passes for sold-out shows on eBay. It felt like I was in the middle of a cultural renaissance, with access to works from the world over. What I didn't realize then was that it was also an education of sorts. When I returned to India, circa 2008, free from the clutches of the nine-to-five, I was able to devote myself to writing about theatre. What was eye-opening for me was the world behind the stage, when I started working with theatre companies. I had written 'stories' about the world of the stage, but reality was completely different, in much more magnificent ways. The first few years, all my dreams were about theatre.

Direction was an eye opener for you, you say in a media interview. but the holistic insights you have gained reviewing, writing, and teaching seem to be integral to that discovery - do you agree?

The reviewing is somehow always secondary to the watching, and the remembering. But what did prepare me for working with actors, was my stint of several years as part of the faculty of Drama School Mumbai. Working with students in a classroom setting helped me open up to the idea of collaboration, which directing essentially is. Before this, I jealously guarded my introversion, enjoying the spectacle from a distance.

Of all your creations, which are the closest to your heart? What are the future productions lined up?

My first directorial venture, Those Left Behind Things, is closest to my heart. It's a story that had followed me from Nottingham, where I encountered Iranian asylum-seekers and marveled, in a blinkered way, at the gumption of the so-called stateless. Working with two very intense actors, Gandharv Dewan and Rushab Kamdar, over almost a year, proved to be a rites of passage almost. And we had a labour of love to show for it.

My new play, Dry Ice, opened in September this year in a digital avatar, we are yet to make it for the live stage so that's the first pressing assignment. Then comes another dream project, Adventures of Jil Jil, about a folk performer who first appeared in a classic Tamil film from 1968. My company, Theatre Jil Jil Ramamani, takes its name from her.

Can you briefly unfold the essence and highlights of your theatre appreciation course? Does that also provide you with artistes for your productions?

The course was called Theatre Context and Appreciation, and it allowed us to explore almost anything connected with the universe of theatre: from Theatre of the Oppressed, to Absurdism, to Brecht, to Indian folk forms, to immersive theatre. I believed in experiential sessions, more than lectures. The classes supplemented the training in theatre-making that the students were intensely engaged in with faculty drawn from the practice. When you build relationships with actors in a classroom setting, it is but natural that they might be among your future collaborators but that is never the intention behind any engagement.

How do you ensure your financial security and viability given your freewheeling endeavors of the purely creative kind that may not have immediate and sustainable returns?

Working as a culture journalist takes care of the bread and butter. The creative pursuits bring in a little bit of jam.

What is your take on the current theatre scene in India? English as well as regional. Any encouraging trends on the horizon? Any regrets or reservations on the way things are moving or not moving.

We are not completely out of the woods when it comes to the pandemic, so the theatre scene is going through something of an existential crisis, with many theatremakers still treading water. The systems of patronage and subsidy that supports the arts in many parts of the world, are not accessible to many in India, which results in a theatre ethos in which artists work under several constraints already. What there is no shortage of is talent, but incubating, birthing, and nurturing creative works require a 'time and money' investment that is hard to come by. Theatre is always announced as dead every few years; the silver lining is that it's very much alive and not going away anywhere any time soon.

What is the story of InQueerable? How ‘queer’ is it?

For marginalized groups, like India's LGBTQIA+ community, representation remains an issue. With growing visibility comes the regurgitation of hackneyed narratives created by the mainstream that often aren't informed by lived experiences or even sensitivity. Queer Ink's Shobhna S Kumar and I wanted to create a platform of queer theatre, where theatre-makers, both queer folk and allies, could present new works that are culturally authentic and affirmative without veering into becoming propaganda. And these works are presented in a carefully nurtured safe space where audiences can be sensitized to this great diverse world — this is why each Inqueerable event, and we had around six before the pandemic, becomes a site for great sharing and the embracing of spirits.

At some point, would you think of producing or directing a film? 

Not at all. Although the digital plays we've working with over the past year have been called experimental films by some. Editing Dry Ice's digital avatar this year involved a lot of meticulous post-production that didn't come naturally to me. I prefer the more amorphous and ephemeral energies that go into the making of live theatre. However, I'm definitely more comfortable with the digital medium now than I was a year ago.

Any role models or artists/mavericks you admire or draw inspiration from? 

I've been greatly impressed by Jyoti Dogra's sheer rigour and the integrity of purpose she exhibits in her work. Pedro Almodovar's films have always presented a worldview that resonates with me personally very greatly, specially All About My Mother, which has melodrama, classic cinema and the theatre intertwined as one elephant-sized delectable offering. I'm a little more conservative in my expression so I'm more comfortable with minimalist offerings that are subtle and understated. However, the works that inspire me are often over-the-top and epic.