He was an engineer on a hydroelectric project. During dam construction the river Satluj, one of the five rivers of Punjab, India, had to be diverted. So, while standing on a hill, he thought that if the direction of a river can be changed, then why not our society? And this was the turning point in the late 1950s when the five-decade-long journey of Gursharan Singh career in the theater began.
The voice of the octogenarian thespian still thrills the hearts of many and inspires them to raise their voices against an oppressive social system. Gursharan Singh not only acts and crafts the tragic stories of the voiceless ones but also voices the silent cries of the millions of poor, the marginalized of society, the people who for centuries have not been allowed to speak.
Theater for him is a medium to liberate the people from oppression, so he charges only Rs 2000 to 2500 (US$44 to US$54) per performance. So far, he has penned 133 lays, and there have been about 8,500 performances all over the world. His life partner, Kailash Kaur, and two daughters for several years have also accompanied him on his mission. Out of his long journey a new genre of theater has been born, going under the name of "rural theater."
He raised the voice against the "emergency," when citizens were deprived of their democratic rights (declared between 1977 and 1980 by then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi), and was dismissed from his position. He was arrested under a trumped-up charge of "training the youth to blow up a bridge." After going through the charge sheet the magistrate laughed and said to police officials, "it would have been better to implicate him in some theater activity case."
After the "emergency," a new government was formed, and Gursharan Singh was released with other political prisoners and reinstated. But once again in the early 1980s, police came to arrest him. He then resigned his job and became a full-time theater activist, which made him the most celebrated face and voice of the deprived people of Punjab. Even the threats of Sikh fundamentalists (in violence that took the life of more than 20,000 people) could not halt his journey.
Some "critics" have termed his theater "an artless slogan." But always ready with a fitting reply, and, contrary to the theory of "art for art's sake," he used art as a mean for the betterment of society. His theater group produced some world classics by Bertolt Brecht and Samuel Beckett, and he himself penned some of the most memorable dramas written in the Punjabi language. But he declared that “elite theater” is not suitable for the poor masses of India, and that the need of the time was to develop theater paying heed to the limitations of rural society.
"I chose theater as a medium to voice my concerns and have succeeded in, for example, challenging the practice of requiring only one's father's name in applying to schools. After a long struggle the state government now requires one's mother's name too on all official forms. The universities followed suit. Even today in India a pregnant woman covers her stomach as if ashamed, while in the West a pregnant woman gets the utmost respect. We still have to get that respect for our women," his bright blue eyes beaming.
Among hundreds of other honors, in 1993 he also received the country's highest award for artists ? the Theater and Music Academy Award. This January he was honored with the Revolutionary Commitment Award in a sleepy village in Punjab. While presenting him with the souvenir, braving the chilly winds, more than 20,000 laborers, peasants, students, and intellectuals echoed together "Long live Gursharan Singh." Addressing the heartwarming reception, he said with wet eyes, "this award is close to my heart as it comes from my own intimacy with the very people I have interacted with throughout my life."
As people watch the suffering of the oppressed in Gursharan Singh's theater, they sob silently and their eyes fill with tears. Such is the power of his work. He voices people’s innermost feelings that they, out of fear, do not express. He moves them to take the road they fear to tread. This is precisely why he has inspired thousands of youth during his long journey.
If some time in the future the history of cultural activism in India were to be written, this brave soldier of the people would be regarded as of epochal importance.
On the query as to whether he is satisfied with what he has done in his life, after a long pause he simply says, "I have still a lot of work to do."
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Paash: An Iron Tale
In the spring of 1967, peasants of Naxalbari--a sleepy village of West Bengal, India--came out of their fields with traditional weapons to fight the establishment. They fought heroically but the moderately armed security forces suppressed them brutally, for a few years.
Even though it was supressed it made a significant contribution to the field of literature and gave birth to new paradigms, which were path breaking in practice and pro-people in nature. It redefined the relationship of student and education, artist and society, country and city, state and people, repression and resistance, violence and peace.
The influence of the Naxalite movement reached the farthest corners of the country. In Punjab, Paash--pen name of Avtar Singh Sandhu--was deeply influenced by this movement. He was one of those who had from the very beginning expressed their uneasiness over the prevailing discourse of romantic poetry in Punjab.
He was not even twenty when he first came to light with his anthology of poetry "Loh Katha" (The Iron Tale) in 1970. This anthology was a complete breakaway from romantic poetry.
Initially many "established poets" refused to recognize the "young lad." They termed his poetry a mere "rag of red cloth." But Paash was altogether different from his contemporaries, he never felt the need for recognition from pro-establishment critics. And his pen always gave them a befitting reply. That is why even almost two decades after his death, his poems still define the struggle.
It is an established fact that Naxalite writers had never written for the sake of fame. Most of them either lived the life of saints or of rebels and have written poetry from the battle fields. They never cared for honors. They wrote what they lived and lived what they wrote. Paash also never wrote for the sake of writing but it was his sensitivity and inner restlessness which motivated him to write. He never stroked his pen to become just a poet.
The poetry of the 20-year-old man challenged the establishment. And the impatient rulers implicated him in a fabricated murder case. He was imprisoned for two years. It was this time which played a key role in his ideological growth. He wrote his best poetry in jail on cigarette packs and smuggled it out.
After two years, Paash was acquitted and he became a celebrated poet of the revolutionary camp. His poems were translated and published in Hindi, Nepali, English and many other Indian languages.
In the early 1980s Sikh fundamentalists waged a war with demands for a separate country, Khalistan. Paash opposed the activities of the Khalistanis. While in the United States, to defeat the reactionary idea of Khalistan on ideological grounds, he started a newspaper named "Anti-47" (after the AK 47, the weapon Khalistanis used to kill).
History proves that the fundamentalist forces rarely indulge in ideological debates, they often suppress their critics with the gun. And the same fate befell Paash. He was gunned down by Khalistani militants on March 23, 1988 (ironically the martyrdom day of Shaheed Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev, the revered patriots who were hanged by the British during the struggle for India's independence). He was 37 years old.
They eliminated him physically at a very young age but his four anthologies of poetry "Loh Katha" (Iron-Tale, 1970), "Ud dian Bazan Magar"(Behind Flying Hawks, 1973), "Saadey Samiyaan Vich" (In Our Times, 1978) and "Khilre Hoey Varkey" (Unorganized Papers, publish posthumously in 1989) have become an integral part of the lives of people.
In the long list of revolutionary poets, Paash is another signature who "wrote what he lived and lived what he wrote." He chose his end consciously. But he was a warrior who never let his dreams die. That is why, September 9th his 56th birth day is being celeberated in Punjab by the peasants in fields, workers in mills and students in universities.
An excerpt from Paash's last poem
"The Most Dangerous" by Paash
Most treacherous is not the robbery of hard earned wages
Most horrible is not the torture by the police.
Most dangerous is to be filled with dead peace
Not to feel agony and bear it all,
Leaving home for work and from work return home
Most dangerous is the death of our dreams.
Most dangerous is that watchWhich runs on your wrist
But stands still for your eyes.
Most dangerous is that eyeWhich sees all but remains frostlike,
Most dangerous is the moon which rises in the numb yard
After each murder,But does not pierce your eyes like hot chilis.
Even though it was supressed it made a significant contribution to the field of literature and gave birth to new paradigms, which were path breaking in practice and pro-people in nature. It redefined the relationship of student and education, artist and society, country and city, state and people, repression and resistance, violence and peace.
The influence of the Naxalite movement reached the farthest corners of the country. In Punjab, Paash--pen name of Avtar Singh Sandhu--was deeply influenced by this movement. He was one of those who had from the very beginning expressed their uneasiness over the prevailing discourse of romantic poetry in Punjab.
He was not even twenty when he first came to light with his anthology of poetry "Loh Katha" (The Iron Tale) in 1970. This anthology was a complete breakaway from romantic poetry.
Initially many "established poets" refused to recognize the "young lad." They termed his poetry a mere "rag of red cloth." But Paash was altogether different from his contemporaries, he never felt the need for recognition from pro-establishment critics. And his pen always gave them a befitting reply. That is why even almost two decades after his death, his poems still define the struggle.
It is an established fact that Naxalite writers had never written for the sake of fame. Most of them either lived the life of saints or of rebels and have written poetry from the battle fields. They never cared for honors. They wrote what they lived and lived what they wrote. Paash also never wrote for the sake of writing but it was his sensitivity and inner restlessness which motivated him to write. He never stroked his pen to become just a poet.
The poetry of the 20-year-old man challenged the establishment. And the impatient rulers implicated him in a fabricated murder case. He was imprisoned for two years. It was this time which played a key role in his ideological growth. He wrote his best poetry in jail on cigarette packs and smuggled it out.
After two years, Paash was acquitted and he became a celebrated poet of the revolutionary camp. His poems were translated and published in Hindi, Nepali, English and many other Indian languages.
In the early 1980s Sikh fundamentalists waged a war with demands for a separate country, Khalistan. Paash opposed the activities of the Khalistanis. While in the United States, to defeat the reactionary idea of Khalistan on ideological grounds, he started a newspaper named "Anti-47" (after the AK 47, the weapon Khalistanis used to kill).
History proves that the fundamentalist forces rarely indulge in ideological debates, they often suppress their critics with the gun. And the same fate befell Paash. He was gunned down by Khalistani militants on March 23, 1988 (ironically the martyrdom day of Shaheed Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev, the revered patriots who were hanged by the British during the struggle for India's independence). He was 37 years old.
They eliminated him physically at a very young age but his four anthologies of poetry "Loh Katha" (Iron-Tale, 1970), "Ud dian Bazan Magar"(Behind Flying Hawks, 1973), "Saadey Samiyaan Vich" (In Our Times, 1978) and "Khilre Hoey Varkey" (Unorganized Papers, publish posthumously in 1989) have become an integral part of the lives of people.
In the long list of revolutionary poets, Paash is another signature who "wrote what he lived and lived what he wrote." He chose his end consciously. But he was a warrior who never let his dreams die. That is why, September 9th his 56th birth day is being celeberated in Punjab by the peasants in fields, workers in mills and students in universities.
An excerpt from Paash's last poem
"The Most Dangerous" by Paash
Most treacherous is not the robbery of hard earned wages
Most horrible is not the torture by the police.
Most dangerous is to be filled with dead peace
Not to feel agony and bear it all,
Leaving home for work and from work return home
Most dangerous is the death of our dreams.
Most dangerous is that watchWhich runs on your wrist
But stands still for your eyes.
Most dangerous is that eyeWhich sees all but remains frostlike,
Most dangerous is the moon which rises in the numb yard
After each murder,But does not pierce your eyes like hot chilis.
An Old Man and His Poetry
Songs ignite fire in the hearts of people
To those with literary interests, Shiv Nath is a famed Punjabi poet. Thousands of people sing his songs. Various literary societies have honored him. Last year, he received the Shiromani Punjabi Kavi Award, the highest title the state of Punjab, in India, confers on a poet.
To those who do not know that Shiv Nath is a famed poet, he is just another old man struggling to eke out a living.
Shiv Nath, 70, runs a local magazine "circulating library" in Chandigarh and Mohali, a job that requires him to cycle 30 to 40 kilometers every day. As he travels, if a verse strikes his mind, he stops cycling, finds a comfortable place to pen his poem, then continues on his way. Shiv Nath has written hundreds of poems while sitting under trees or on footpaths at the side of the road.
Revealing his tale, Shiv Nath looks at the floor through the thick lenses of his old-fashioned glasses.
"I was born in Sialkot [Pakistan]. We were well off but the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 ruined everything. Like millions of others, we too had to migrate to India. As soon as we reached here, my father expired," Shiv Nath said.
"Initially, for two to three years, I sold groundnuts. Then for thirty years, I worked as a tailor. And now, for the last twenty-six years, I am running this magazine circulatory library," he added, after a brief pause.
As soon as I had entered his one room house, I found his two little granddaughters making paper bags out of old magazines.
Looking at them, he said, "From child to old man every one has to work to fill their bellies."
Until recently, Shiv Nath was staying in a single room flat with six other members of his family. For lack of space, he and his wife had to sleep in the kitchen. But a few months back, the celebrated Punjabi writer Santokh Singh Dhir provided him with a small room on the roof of his house.
"One can write poetry while sitting on footpaths under the trees, but not prose," Shiv Nath said, looking around the new room. "Now I have a room where I can sit and write."
The most interesting aspect of the life of this poet is that he has never attended school. It was his urge to express his inner feelings that motivated him to learn to write in his mid thirties. And it was the company of Sujan Singh, a Punjabi writer about whom he has written a book, that set him on a literary path. Now Shiv Nath has nine books to his credit, which earned him the title of Shiromani Punjabi Kavi.
But even today, to the affluent people he visits to circulate magazines he is merely an old man with little to do to earn a living, like millions of other Indians. So, he circulates magazines.
The "elites" in the bungalows may not recognize his literary genius, but his songs echo in the minds and hearts of the struggling masses of Punjab.
Tarana hor gao dosto
Ke Ranj mar jaye …
Tarana hor gao dosto
Ke julam Ghabrae …
Sing another song my friends,
So that bitterness may die,
Sing another song my friends,
So that oppression may shy …
(Translation: Sourabh Gupta)
This song was written as a tribute to the African rebel poet Benjamin Molisi who was hanged by the imperial government of South Africa in 1985.
On a specific query about whether he sought financial aid from the government, Siv Nath said humbly, "My poetry is against the establishment. How can I expect [assistance] from them?"
To those with literary interests, Shiv Nath is a famed Punjabi poet. Thousands of people sing his songs. Various literary societies have honored him. Last year, he received the Shiromani Punjabi Kavi Award, the highest title the state of Punjab, in India, confers on a poet.
To those who do not know that Shiv Nath is a famed poet, he is just another old man struggling to eke out a living.
Shiv Nath, 70, runs a local magazine "circulating library" in Chandigarh and Mohali, a job that requires him to cycle 30 to 40 kilometers every day. As he travels, if a verse strikes his mind, he stops cycling, finds a comfortable place to pen his poem, then continues on his way. Shiv Nath has written hundreds of poems while sitting under trees or on footpaths at the side of the road.
Revealing his tale, Shiv Nath looks at the floor through the thick lenses of his old-fashioned glasses.
"I was born in Sialkot [Pakistan]. We were well off but the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 ruined everything. Like millions of others, we too had to migrate to India. As soon as we reached here, my father expired," Shiv Nath said.
"Initially, for two to three years, I sold groundnuts. Then for thirty years, I worked as a tailor. And now, for the last twenty-six years, I am running this magazine circulatory library," he added, after a brief pause.
As soon as I had entered his one room house, I found his two little granddaughters making paper bags out of old magazines.
Looking at them, he said, "From child to old man every one has to work to fill their bellies."
Until recently, Shiv Nath was staying in a single room flat with six other members of his family. For lack of space, he and his wife had to sleep in the kitchen. But a few months back, the celebrated Punjabi writer Santokh Singh Dhir provided him with a small room on the roof of his house.
"One can write poetry while sitting on footpaths under the trees, but not prose," Shiv Nath said, looking around the new room. "Now I have a room where I can sit and write."
The most interesting aspect of the life of this poet is that he has never attended school. It was his urge to express his inner feelings that motivated him to learn to write in his mid thirties. And it was the company of Sujan Singh, a Punjabi writer about whom he has written a book, that set him on a literary path. Now Shiv Nath has nine books to his credit, which earned him the title of Shiromani Punjabi Kavi.
But even today, to the affluent people he visits to circulate magazines he is merely an old man with little to do to earn a living, like millions of other Indians. So, he circulates magazines.
The "elites" in the bungalows may not recognize his literary genius, but his songs echo in the minds and hearts of the struggling masses of Punjab.
Tarana hor gao dosto
Ke Ranj mar jaye …
Tarana hor gao dosto
Ke julam Ghabrae …
Sing another song my friends,
So that bitterness may die,
Sing another song my friends,
So that oppression may shy …
(Translation: Sourabh Gupta)
This song was written as a tribute to the African rebel poet Benjamin Molisi who was hanged by the imperial government of South Africa in 1985.
On a specific query about whether he sought financial aid from the government, Siv Nath said humbly, "My poetry is against the establishment. How can I expect [assistance] from them?"
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