The internationally renowned team of Peter Brook, Marie-Helene Estienne and Jean-Claude Carriere together visited the great Indian epic The Mahabharata 30 years ago. That legendary production took world theatre by storm. The team had carved out a nine-hour-long play of the epic. Back then the team was young and full of hope for the future. Now Brook is 90 and the world has been witnessing brutal wars and civil wars in almost all parts of the world, be it Syria, Sri Lanka or Chechnya. Even Paris, Brook’s home city was attacked twice in one year and nearly 150 people were killed. Perhaps this harrowing reality forced Brook and his team to re-visit the Mahabharata to see what lessons could be learnt from that epic war. The Mahabharata is an eternal story of how we live and die according to the principle of dharma.
The Battlefield
Brook wrote the new script with writer Jean-Claude Carriere and his long time collaborator Marie-Helene Estienne. She has been collaborating with Brook since the early eighties. Now Brook is 90 and Estienne is 72. The two have worked together for four decades and this passage of time has reflected on their new production. The group visited India in March 2016 with their new play The Battlefield, which is based on the last stage of the Mahabharata, when the epic battle is over and the remaining characters brood over the consequences of their actions. The Battlefield is the product of the eternal and enduring (and meaningless?) search for the meaning of life.
Stark, frugal, contemplative
It basically is a highly contemplative play with practically no action. And yet, it’s theatre of high quality. The stage was stark, covered in ochre, a colour that suggested an arid earth soaked in human blood. The props on the stage were sparse. It had only a scattering of sticks and a few lengths of colourful cloth, which were used to convey many things symbolically. For example, a river and a newborn baby Karna.
To complement this, the actors were dressed in dark robes relieved by scarves and blanket shawls of lighter shade. They delivered their dialogues uninflected by emotion. All the while, all actions and discussions are accompanied by sound of the Japanese drum, extremely well-played by Toshi Tsuchitori.
The play opens when the Kurukshetra war is over. Enter blind king Dhritarashtra (Sean O’Callaghan). He asks himself why he allowed the war to take place. He feels that he could have said no and stopped the war. He had a hundred sons and now is left with none. He could not stop his son Duryodhana who wanted nothing but the war. Then comes Kunti (Carole Karemera), who had told Yudhishthira (Jared McNeill) about Karan, and also told him to perform the last rites of his half-brother. Then comes a point when she cannot keep it bottled within her, and lets out a long howl of anguish which becomes representative of all mothers of all times who have lost a son in a mindless war.
Yudhishthira is loaded down with guilt for what he has done, and how he has ended being responsible for the death of tens and thousands of human beings. He sees carrion animals and birds hover around, waiting to pounce on them. Is this victory or defeat? How can one tell? And most important, what will come after this war? A wise man answers, ‘Another war’.
Then there is Bheeshma (Ery Nzaramba), lying on his bed of nails waiting to die. He tells Yudhishthira that he must rule like a just king. Here questions of justice, guilt, moral responsibility, etc., are raised. And these are answered through some well-known fables. The most famous fable is of a worm desperate to escape the wheels of an oncoming chariot. What is its life worth? Nothing to the world perhaps, but everything to the worm. The roles of worm, snake, etc., are played by actors. There is an arrogant snake that suggests that it is his destiny or dharma to attack the small boy and kill him as the boy happens to be in his path. Do we hold the snake responsible for the death of that boy? No, because Yama, the god of death has made him kill the boy. Is Yama then responsible? No, again. Time is responsible. These are the questions that have been debated in philosophy from time immemorial.
Fortunately, this is not how The Battlefield ends. It suggests the continuity and permanence of life. The Japanese drummer drums out the primal power of rhythm, which in the end rises to a crescendo, and then fades into silence. This is the master’s touch, which leaves the audience spellbound. Three cheers, Sir!
