Albert Camus’ famous play,The Misunderstanding, was adapted by Bengali-Hindi group Sansaptak with Rajasthan’s Kalbeliya music community as its focus. The director chatted with Utpal K Banerjee
Albert Camus (1913-1960) was a French-Algeria born author, journalist and philosopher, whose views contributed to the rise of the philosophy of absurdism. He wrote that his whole life was devoted to opposing the philosophy of nihilism, while still delving deeply into individual and sexual freedom. Nor was he a proponent of existentialism, rejecting this particular label and any ideological associations to say, “I am not an existentialist. Jean Paul Sartre and I are always surprised to see our names linked...”
The Misunderstanding (le Malentendu, 1944), penned in occupied France by Camus, focusses on his idea of the absurd. In the story, Martha and her mother — together with a taciturn old man — run a guest house in which they murder rich solitary travellers. The only son Jan returns home that he had left 20 years ago: with ample money for his mother. let alone welcoming the prodigal youth, his mother does not recognise him. Jan registers under a false name. Martha is cold, declining to answer personal questions. Mother even fails to respond when Jan hints at his purpose in coming or asks if she had a son. When Jan becomes enthusiastic about Martha, she rejects the shared moment and determines to kill him, bringing him some drugged tea. When Jan falls asleep, Martha takes his money, they proceed to do their destined job and throw the body in the river. In the morning, the old man finds Jan’s dropped passport and they realise — without emotion — what they have done. Mother decides to drown herself, disregarding Martha’s protests. Martha is left alone with her deep, suppressed anger.
The play is a highly subjective presentation by Camus of the human condition as he saw it in the desperate circumstances of 1942-43. It reflects several aspects of Camus’ life: he had left Algeria, to which he was deeply attached, leaving his wife and friends behind, he was depressed with tuberculosis and living under threat of execution as a propaganda agent of the French Resistance.
Mritashauch (Post-death Rituals), presented recently by the noted Bengali-Hindi group, Sansaptak, follows faithfully Camus’ storyline but situates it squarely into Rajasthan’s Kalbelia musical community. Written and directed by the veteran Torit Mitra, mother (Ruma Bose) and daughter (Sreemoyee Dasgupta) are an eloquently-furious, fire-spewing duo: jaded with the masculine gender and, having been constantly deceived, hell-bent on wreaking their vengeance. The old man is the mother’s old flame — their lascivious landlord — for whom the Kalbelia woman was a “bedside pillow” — had his tongue pierced to tie a chained lock. The Mumbai-returned youth, who comes ostensibly to visit the nearby mega fair, has an eager tongue: too smooth to counter the women’s invective-laden lingo. There is a rhyme mouthed, a lyric intoned or a gyration spun: for every stretch of dialogue: in the true Kalbelia tradition. Excerpts from an interview with the director:
How did Camus enter into your reckoningIJ
I was fascinated since my college days by Camus’ writings. My first adaptation was his play Just Assassins on the Bolshevik Revolution into Na Hanyate in 1994. The play is still staged by Sansaptak. Since 2013, we’re celebrating Camus’ Birth Centenary Year through seminars, discussions and now a new play.
How did you think of locating Camus in RajasthanIJ
Camus’ characters are marked by monetary motif, while I thought of changing it to revenge: against the wrong-doing of the males. I happened to visit the Kalbelia community in 2009 and was struck by the social and mental deprivation suffered by them in the hands of men. Eloquent singers and dancers, the women are all considered as available sex workers. They’re gypsies still, unlike the langas and Manganiyars: the other natural musicians of Rajasthan. I thought their accumulated grievances against men would provide me the backdrop of the habitual killings in the play: which our audience may not otherwise accept.
How did you collect their lyrics and musicIJ
Although some rare CDs are available, theirs is essentially an oral tradition. I made recordings and was hugely helped by the eminent ethnologist Komal Kothari in Jodhpur and his group Rupayan.
But how about the translationsIJ
I did the Bengali translations myself, besides using some original rhymes that I had composed earlier. But now I’m advised about making a Hindi version, where the rhymes would sound far nearer the Rajasthani intonations.
You’ve used plenty of expletives in the women’s dialogue and made the young girl repeatedly kick theprostrate old man…
You’ll be surprised how many explicitly abusive words the marginalised Kalbelias — who dare not register themselves as OBCs still — use in their spoken language all the time. And the kicks are the outward expression of intense resentment against the male.