A question the other day by a younger fellow journalist, who did not enter this profession after ‘flirtation’ with the political process in youth, like many of this writer’s generation, and yet retains a fundamental humanism in his outlook, is the trigger for this piece. He asked: “Why are right-wingers generally not sensitive artists?” He meant to ask, why in recent years, had no sensitive piece of literature, cinema, theatre or even music come directly from the right-wing or even its supporters? In reply, as I said, what constitutes sensitivity is subjective.
Someone may opine that Padmaavat is a great film which ‘corrects’ history and sensitively portrays the predicament of a queen who is left with no option but to commit jauhar. Others may argue that it typecasts a Muslim king, presents him as a violent person driven by lust, who uses sexuality as a tool of political subjugation. Yet others may consider the film nothing but a romanticised account of mass suicide (jauhar) by women. What may be sensitive to one, may not raise goosebumps in the other. Even if one were to replace ‘sensitive’ with ‘social commitment’, differences will persist over what constitutes allegiance to the collective. Yet, when art and culture transcend the individual ‘creator’, express concerns which common people relate to and when such art and culture inspire people who are struggling for social betterment, such artists can be dubbed ‘people’s artists’.
Seventy-five years ago, several years after a ginger start was made by a group of writers who organised the first Progressive Writer’s Association Conference in 1936, when the Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) was formally inaugurated in 1943, no one imagined the deep impact it would leave on successive generations of artists. The thought came to mind while reading a recent article which explored music maestro Ilaiyaraaja’s recent decision to be less reticent than in the past. As one went through the piece, his symbiotic relationship with another maestro, Salil Chowdhury, and through him, IPTA, emerged vividly. This underscored once again the special place that IPTA has in India’s cultural history.
The formation of IPTA in the year following the launch of the Quit India Movement (1942) was no coincidence. The period was vibrant and the nationalist movement was sensing that its objective was within reach. Those artists who felt the need to be part of the political process and play a role in India’s independence movement, chose to use creativity to strengthen and popularise nationalism. IPTA gave formal shape to this sentiment, arguing in favour of the need for artists to stop limiting themselves to ‘art for art’s sake’. Be in cinema, theatre, literature or non-performing arts, this was globally the period of social realism, when it was felt that art and culture could not remain alienated from life, but must mirror it. The assemblage which came together, consisted of people from multiple arenas of creative pursuits and filled the long-felt need for artists to play a significant role in strengthening progressive forces.
Poet Kaifi Azmi with his comrades headed for a conference of Progressive Writers’ Association. Credit: Twitter/Syed Ahmed Afzal
Cultural awakening of the masses was on this group’s agenda alongside the commitment to integrate cultural tradition with modernity. Dedicated to taking theatre to the people – and not just by use of folk forms – the IPTA pursued the objective of raising socio-political awareness and forging national integration. As nationalist politics acquired new vibrancy in India, it was no time before IPTA became an integral part of the anti-colonial struggle and marked its presence across the country with its people-centric programmes that eulogised working class struggles while endorsing nationalistic aspirations of people.
IPTA was unabashed about the Marxist leanings of most of its founders and stalwarts. The collective had flowed out of the confluence of progressive writers and at its second conference, writer Mulk Raj Anand unabashedly saw himself and his colleagues as “a generation of declassed individuals” who saw the crisis in culture “brought about by the breakdown of our social values, cultural codes and grammar”.
However, he effused confidence that political movements would play the role of liberalisers and this would instil confidence in his group pursuing “a more revolutionary ideology in all spheres.” Despite clarity about political alignment, IPTA was not ideologically sectarian and provided space to those holding milder political views, including even the likes of theatre and film personality Prithviraj Kapoor. It is evident that in its initial years, no progressive cultural group, eschewed the popular genre.
As progressive writers initially formed themselves into a group in London and comprised expatriate Indian students, there was an element of anti-fascist thought from the onset. These writers, for instance Sajjad Zaheer and Anand, were also part of the World Congress of Writers for the Defence of Culture, held in Paris in 1935, which was organised by, among others, Maxim Gorky, Romain Rolland and Thomas Mann. The group that engaged with their European peers was clearly distinct from those Indians, Hindu Mahasabha leader BS Moonje for instance, who were at the same time engaging with European fascists. In many ways, Moonje’s interactions and the influence he had on generations of Indian right-wingers offers an explanation for the different emphasis on contemporary artists aligned with the ruling establishment.
What made IPTA and other progressive cultural activists distinct from those who eventually spearheaded the Indian Right was their simultaneous commitment to India’s “ancient culture (which) cannot be allowed to die” and recognition that “art can and should flourish not as a weapon of luxury but as a means of portraying life and reality of our people, of reviving their faith in themselves and in their past, and of rousing them to the will to live and the will to be free.” The Annual Charter in 1946 further acknowledged that “art and literature can have a future only if they become the authentic expressions and inspirations of the peoples’ struggles for freedom and culture.”
Despite no overt alignment with any political party, IPTA was closely connected with vanguard organisations of the working class – be it peasants’ or workers’ bodies. Quite often, IPTA and its members would act as canvassers for such proletarian bodies. Members of the IPTA also took the lead in establishing cultural wings of these mass organisations. But above all, IPTA acted as a collective where ideas were exchanged and collaborations between writers, actors, filmmakers, theatre directors became the norm and not the exception. IPTA’s members went to mount landmark theatre and classic films.
A scene from the iconic Bengali play Nabanna on the Bengal famine. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
While Nabanna (‘New Harvest’, depicting the agony of the Bengal Famine, whose 70th anniversary is being observed this year) by Bijon Bhattacharya and Naba Jiboner Gaan (Song of New of Life) by Jyotirindra Moitra were among the early progressive plays, K.A. Abbas’ film, Dharti ki Lal (Children of the Earth), was among the first realistic films in India. Significantly, Balraj Sahni was launched as an actor in this film which articulated the feelings of dispossessed peasants.
Most IPTA plays, or films made by its members, in some way or the other vividly portrayed the stark reality and life of the toiling masses. Listing landmark plays, films and artwork inspired by activities and associations with IPTA is a subject for numerous pieces like this one, maybe even several books to add to the many that are already there.
IPTA was active in the final years of the freedom struggle and when the tragedy of partition wreaked havoc, it joined forces with other progressive organisations to campaign for peace. IPTA, in the form it existed in the 1940s, dispersed after India attained freedom. Its members, however, formed many organisations – many were even named as regional units of the parent body – in various parts of the country and carried the legacy forward. Many of these remain active even now and some IPTA chapters have been marking the 75th anniversary since 2017.
But more significantly, as the communist movement split, many other cultural organisations came up. Some of these like Jana Natya Manch, closely identified with Safdar Hashmi, functioned with greater coordination with the parent party. Till Hashmi’s brutal assassination in January 1989, few imagined that street theatre or progressive cultural organisations could pose such a threat to vested interests that they would snuff out the life of cultural activists. The incident evoked widespread condemnation and forced even the most apolitical of artists out on the streets in anger.
Cultural activism has borne the brunt of increased communalisation in the past three decades. Yet, it is difficult to imagine that the culture of protest has evaporated. Even during the Emergency (1975), poets, songwriters and theatre artists were at forefront of protests. The rousing lines of revolutionary poet, Dushyant Kumar, still remain a manifesto for many. For it to have mass appeal, culture must retain its rebellious nature. Writers, poets and other artists become co-opted the moment they lose the spirit to question and becoming comfortable with status quo.
In the famous song, Ami Shunechi Shedin (I Overheard the Other Day), Bengali songwriter and singer Moushumi Bhowmik addresses an imaginary (or known) group that retains radicalism.
I heard you all still dream
Still write fables
And sing to heart’s delight.
I heard you are still agonised with
Struggles of life and death of people
And that your love
Still flowers as a rose…
IPTA in its old form may have passed into history but in the 75th year of its foundation, nothing can be more apt for another cultural movement, more diverse and vibrant to pick up a few leaves from its pages. Indians have been over the past four years been reminded time and again of the irrelevance for posing questions. This process, however, cannot be allowed to end and who can communicate this better to people than one who can play with the chords of emotions?
Nilanjan Mukhopadhyay is a Delhi-based writer and journalist, and the author of Narendra Modi: The Man, The Times and Sikhs: The Untold Agony of 1984. He tweets @NilanjanUdwin.