10th Anniversary Special: How the Qadir Ali Baig Theatre Festival transformed Hyderabad into a global theatre hub

To carry a legacy in theatre is to walk a delicate line between reverence and reinvention. For Mohammad Ali Baig, the Qadir Ali Baig Theatre Festival began as a son’s tribute, but over two decades, it has grown into something far larger — an institution that has reshaped Hyderabad’s cultural consciousness. “It’s emotional, it’s sentimental,” he says, recalling moments when he finds himself pausing before his father’s portrait at the venue, “with moist eyes, thanking him that when we and the rest of Hyderabad stand on stage to perform, it’s thanks to his vision.”

Twenty years of the Qadir Ali Baig Theatre Festival: Mohammad Ali Baig reflects on the movement that changed Hyderabad theatre

That vision, forged in the 1970s and 80s under circumstances far less forgiving than today’s tech-enabled world, remains the festival’s moral compass. Baig often reflects on the enormity of what Qadir Ali Baig achieved — staging ambitious productions at Golconda Fort and Chowmahalla Palace, introducing uninitiated audiences to new playwrights, working with actors and technicians who had never encountered such scale. “Imagine doing all that without the facilities we now have at the touch of a smartphone,” he says. “That itself is an inspiration — and a responsibility.”

Yet the festival has never been about preservation alone. It has quietly but decisively filled a cultural vacuum. Baig describes Hyderabad’s artistic history as having “two eras — pre and post the Qadir Ali Baig Theatre Festival.” Before its inception in 2004–05, festivals were few and sporadic; theatre activity was limited to “two or three productions a year.” Today, Hyderabad regularly hosts “two or three theatre productions a weekend,” a shift Baig attributes to the ecosystem the festival helped create. “For many practitioners across the country,” he notes, “Hyderabad means the Qadir Ali Baig Theatre Festival.”

Crucially, the festival has taken Hyderabad’s theatre beyond its geographical boundaries. Baig speaks with quiet pride about presenting original Hyderabadi work on the world’s most prestigious stages. “When I say Hyderabad theatre,” he explains, “I mean original Hyderabad theatre — its writing, its themes, its fabric and texture rooted in heritage, culture, and syncretism.” From world premieres at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe — “what Wimbledon is to tennis or the Olympics to sport”— to productions staged across the UK, Europe, and the Far East, Baig has ensured that Hyderabad’s stories occupy centre stage globally.

Among the most defining moments was the festival’s decision to go live during the pandemic, when nearly every other cultural platform went dark or turned virtual. “We were the only festival in the world that went live for two years,” he says. The impact, he recalls, was deeply human. Audience members thanked him not just for theatre, but for “bringing us out of four walls… sharing a cup of tea with another human being for the first time after lockdown.” Performers arriving from across India told him, “The first sight we saw after leaving home was the festival venue.” In that moment, Baig realised the festival had taken theatre “beyond the proscenium, beyond the auditorium — into people’s lives.”

Sustaining such a vision is not without challenges. Financial pressures, logistics, and the weight of legacy intersect constantly. But Baig credits a wide support system — successive governments, corporate partners, media, and audiences — for helping the festival complete two decades. More importantly, he credits conviction. “When you do something with conviction, you accomplish it,” he says, a belief shaped as much by his years in international advertising as by his life in theatre.

In an era dominated by screens and shrinking attention spans, Baig remains pragmatic yet uncompromising. “We can’t go on with archaic formats in the name of classics,” he admits. While two-and-a-half-hour plays once defined the stage, today’s productions must adapt — “60 to 90 minutes at most”— without sacrificing decorum or depth. Evolution, for Baig, does not mean pandering. “It doesn’t mean playing to the gallery,” he insists. “It means tuning audiences to the fineries of performing arts — text, music, performance, design.”

This philosophy extends to the festival’s audience-building mission. Alongside loyal patrons — some attending their “14th festival in a row”— are newcomers experiencing theatre for the first time. “That’s something the festival has done,” Baig says, “initiated a whole new audience.” His belief in the next generation was underscored by the festival’s 20th edition theme, From Stalwarts to NextGen, where debutants shared the stage with legends, signalling continuity rather than rupture.

Looking ahead, Baig envisions theatre becoming “mainstream entertainment — like cinema or cricket”— a bold aspiration in a country where both dominate cultural life. Yet he points to a transformation already underway: theatre has gone from a “fading art form to a brand,” attracting top national and international partners and reclaiming its dignity. “My endeavour,” he says simply, “has been to give theatre the prestige it deserves.”

If the festival’s future remains unwritten, its purpose is clear. What began as a tribute has become a movement, a meeting ground, and a memory-maker. Or, as Baig might say, proof that when theatre is nurtured with conviction, it doesn’t merely survive — it reshapes a city’s soul.

Email: rupam@newindianexpress.com

X: @rupsjain

For more updates, join/follow our WhatsApp, Telegram and YouTube channels.