We have been lucky because English plays usually don’t get the kind of run that Kannada, Tamil or Marathi plays do. We had three shows in India, followed by 15 shows across the US, so around 18 shows in a year, which is quite unusual for a new Indian play. Doing so many shows has meant that the actors have understood their roles much more deeply. They are now able to deliver their lines more spontaneously. Every venue in the US was also different, from a luxurious theatre at PBS in Austin to a very intimate space in Palo Alto with no microphones and minimal lighting. Yet the play worked everywhere and we received standing ovations at every venue. I think the play has grown beyond what we originally expected.

The audiences were very different at each venue. At the International House at the University of Chicago, we had scholars and students. One person immediately noticed that I had used a technical device from a Sanskrit drama at the opening of the play, something nobody else had pointed out. In Tulsa, a woman asked whether the dance sequences were being used to express feelings that the protagonist could not verbalise. That was exactly why I used them. Where words fail, you can use music, dance or painting. They provide a parallel text. What amazed me was that she understood this despite not knowing Hindi or being familiar with Indian music or dance.

I wouldn‘t say it changed my understanding of Ravi Shankar, but it certainly taught me something about audiences. Many Indian viewers came expecting the life story of a great musician and global icon, while western audiences often came to see the play primarily as theatre and focused on its dramatic elements. Many Indian viewers were surprised that it wasn’t simply about Ravi Shankar’s glorious musical career, but about humanising him and showing his vulnerabilities, doubts, regrets and fear of failure. One viewer found it astonishing that he was unapologetic about many of his decisions, both personally and professionally. He had a real spirit of adventure and took risks that many traditional Indian classical musicians of his time would not have taken.

I never set out to make a conventional biography. Theatre has to speak to the pulse of its own time. A playwright is not simply trying to create a glorified portrait of a celebrity, but to understand what makes that person tick. The biggest challenge was putting an actor on stage and convincing the audience that he is Ravi Shankar, someone the whole world has seen and whose life is well documented. The other challenge was telling the story of a man who travelled across the world with a very small cast. That is where theatre helped. Through words, body language, gestures and lighting, you can create entire worlds. The play spans Ravi Shankar‘s life from the age of nine to 75, so bringing that long journey alive on stage was a challenge in itself.

I don’t think you can consciously refine a play by simply cutting it up and making it sharper. Performance itself teaches you. The Bengaluru audience will see a very different play from the one that premiered in Chennai because the actors have performed it many times, in different spaces, before different audiences and under different conditions. They have grown into their roles. That’s the nature of theatre. Every performance is different. A thousand things can go wrong, but a thousand things can also go right and make a performance better than you imagined. Unlike a film, a live performance keeps changing. The way an actor delivers a line, moves or takes a pause can be different every time.

Entry free. September 17, 7 pm. At BIC, Domlur.

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