BARFF’s gripping intensity and EK MULAQAT MANTO SE’s emotional depth left the audience deeply moved and connected, says SAKSHI PRIYA

Theatre pulls people into its world, making them forget where they are. There is no screen to hide behind, no second take to perfect a scene, only the raw, unfiltered power of storytelling. The National Theatre Festival 2025, presented by AD Pix at Shri Ram Centre for Performing Arts, brought that power to life. With BARFF and Ek Mulaqat Manto Se, the festival turned a stage into a world where emotions ran deep, and stories demanded to be heard.

Produced by Ashvin Gidwani Productions, BARFF was not just performed but also written and directed by Saurabh Shukla, making it a deeply personal vision brought to life on stage. The gripping psychological thriller was heightened by meticulous set design, evocative lighting, and an atmospheric background score, all of which intensified the eerie stillness of Kashmir’s snow-covered landscape.

When Saurabh Shukla steps onto a stage, something shifts. There’s a weight in the air, an energy that few actors can command. His presence alone makes an audience lean in, waiting for the storm he is about to unleash. He doesn’t just play a role; he absorbs it, bends it, and reshapes it into something only he can create.

In BARFF, he did exactly that, Set in the snow-covered landscapes of Kashmir, the play was a gripping psychological thriller that questioned truth, belief, and the burden of reality. A doctor, a desperate couple, and a child suffering from a mysterious illness - these elements came together to create an atmosphere thick with tension.

But what truly made BARFF unforgettable was the way Shukla carried it. His performance was effortless yet reflective, pulling the audience into a world where certainty was a luxury.

Alongside him, Sunil Palwal and Anchal Chauhan brought their own strengths, creating a world that felt eerily close, despite its distance. The cold of Kashmir wasn’t felt through visuals, but through the uncertainty, the fear, and the suffocating weight of not knowing what to believe. When the play ended, there was no rush to leave. The theatre sat still for a moment, as if shaking off the spell Shukla had cast. That is the mark of a master, when even silence speaks after he is gone.

Manto Speaks, and the World Listens

If BARFF was a test of belief, ‘Ek Mulaqat Manto Se,’ was a confrontation with truth and Produced by Collective Madness. The moment Ashwath Bhatt walked onto the stage, the theatre belonged to him. There was no need for elaborate sets or grand gestures, his presence alone was enough.

For an hour and a half, Bhatt was Shahadat Hussain Manto. He spoke not as an actor but as a man who had lived through the fire of partition, who had seen the worst of humanity and refused to turn away. His words cut through the air, sharp and unrelenting. He did not perform Manto’s life; he lived it. Every glance, every shift in tone, carried the weight of a writer who wrote not for applause but because silence was never an option.

The haunting ghazals of Begum Akhtar played in the background, each note amplifying the emotions on stage. There were moments when the theatre felt like it had stopped breathing, as if the past had reached out and placed its hands on the shoulders of the present.

The play did not end when the lights went out. Manto’s voice stayed, his words etched into the minds of those who had listened.

A Festival That Left Its Mark

The National Theatre Festival 2025 was a reminder of why theatre matters. The theme of Bengal Meets Delhi was a meeting of histories, of voices that refused to be silenced.

The performances did not stay confined to the stage, they spilled into the minds of the audience, making them think, feel, and question. Each act was a conversation between the past and present, drawing the audience into its world.

Long after the final curtain call, the impact remained. As the audience walked away, conversations carried on. Some left in deep thought, others in quiet reflection. Great theatre does not fade when the show is over. It stays, pressing itself into memory, waiting to be recalled in moments of solitude. The stage may have emptied, but the stories continued, living on in those who experienced them.