Roshan Abbas brings ‘Indradhanush’ to Bengaluru: A rainbow of humour, memory and vulnerability

I’ve been doing the same thing for thirty years and just found different stages to do it on. Radio, television, events and all of the other mediums essentially made me look for a bigger canvas to tell my stories. Being on stage is like being a micro influencer in the show and being on radio is like having an audience on a much larger scale (laughs). But, in Indradhanush the story is personal with no hiding behind for mats or scripts written by someone else.

It came from my father. One of the couplets he left me with was, ‘bina dhoop aur baarish ke, Indradhanush nahin banta’ (Without sun and rain, a rainbow does not form). Later on, I realised that he was telling me that difficulties and beautiful things are made of the same weather. The storm will lead to a rainbow if you believe in its course.

Getting on stage for the first time made me fall in love with performing. Little, everyday experiences like hanging out with friends helped me explore myself. There’s a man I think about often, but I don’t know his name. He was a watchman at All India Radio’s gate on Parliament Street, New Delhi, who once helped a poor twenty three-year-old enter that building. That act made me believe in the existence of humanity.

Almost always. If you come at pain or grief sideways through a joke that makes people laugh, first they open up and let their guard down. That’s when you can say the thing that actually needs to be said. There’s a moment in Indradhanush where I’m talking of standing on stage as Akbare-Azam (one of the characters from the show), while something humiliating is happening in the audience and I can do nothing about it. The comedy and the devastation arrive at exactly the same time. I think that’s the most honest way to tell a story because, that’s actually how life feels.

Authenticity. They crave honesty among all the syntheticity. That’s the simplest way to put it. Gen Z has excellent instincts for when they’re being sold a narrative. So, if you’re vulnerable and honest, they join in. In the show, I often need to explain what a pager is or used to be, but I don’t need to break down my feelings, they catch on to it pretty well.

I want them to think about the things they’ve put in the almirah (cupboard) of their past. Everyone has baggage. Whether it’s a dream they decided was impractical, a conversation they kept postponing, a version of themselves they quietly folded up and put away because the timing wasn’t right, something that someone said or that inconceivable permission they got tired of waiting for. The show is about a boy who discovered, quite late, what his actual gift was. I hope the audience finds theirs and claims it while witnessing him.