In a world where our identities are often defined by rigid notions of religion, caste, gender, and race, Savita Rani’s solo performance, Notion(s) Between You and Me, invites to explore the complexities of these identities. Drawing from her own experiences and rage, Savita’s work reflects on the imagined constructs of purity and superiority, exposing the power hierarchies that govern our lives. In Delhi's Sunder Nursery, she performed her play at the KNMA Theatre Festival, curated on the theme of The Power of Vulnerability. The fest aspired to understand the role theatre in exploring different vulnerabilities through caste, class, religion, gender, location and sexuality.
In this interview, Savita shares her journey into theatre, the artistic process behind her compelling performance, and how she navigates the delicate interplay between humor and vulnerability.
How did you get into theatre? For how long have you been practicing?
I’m from Takriwan, Haryana. I joined a theatre group in 1999 that was quite fascinating; it focused on socio-political theatre. It wasn’t just about performing; we engaged in discussions and brought together people from diverse backgrounds—doctors, teachers, students from villages. It was a very mixed group, and I joined because my father was associated with it. They organized a month-long tour to perform in villages in interior Haryana, preparing a two-hour program that included plays and songs.
In Haryana, it’s very challenging for girls to participate in such activities, so they decided to involve the daughters and sisters of those already in the group. That’s how I received my invitation. My father wasn’t a theatre practitioner per se, but as I mentioned, it was more than just theatre; it was a community effort, aimed at promoting scientific thinking and combating superstition. He’s a doctor and was involved in this initiative. I joined and immediately felt that I belonged. I continued with the group but eventually realized I needed formal education in theatre. My parents were very supportive, encouraging me to pursue my studies. So, I went to Mandi, Himachal Pradesh, for a year-long theatre course and later joined the National School of Drama, finishing in 2000.
After that, I freelanced in Delhi for a few years, but it felt unsatisfactory. Both my initial group and NSD provided strong training, but they were quite different in their approaches. I started feeling something was missing, leading to an existential crisis in my theatre practice. I realized that theatre can also be exploitative and hierarchical. I was uncertain about where I stood and what my own identity in theatre was. Then, I took the UGC exam and got a JRF, allowing me to pursue a PhD. I thought it would provide me with the time and space I needed for reflection. I joined Pondicherry University, focusing on solo practitioners and devising solo theatre in India, which ultimately guided me in discovering my own process.
My first solo piece was R.I.P. (Restless Nessing Pieces). It stemmed from a contemporary interpretation of Sita; I saw her as an artist who wanted to travel. She accompanied Ram to the forest, performing for him to fulfill her desire for adventure. While the story reflects on Sita, it’s also deeply personal.
One of the very interesting aspects of your play is how you fluidly navigate between humor and intenseness of violence. How did you manage to incorporate these contrasting emotions?
Painful experiences in life can become overwhelming, often leading to trauma. When you recognize that something is blocking you, it becomes an opportunity for healing. Engaging with these feelings and investigating them can lead to profound insights. Writing was healing for me during my crisis; it helped me process emotions.
I also find humor can coexist with pain. It’s important to accept all emotions, including anger. Rather than suppressing it, acknowledging these feelings fosters emotional intelligence. By doing so, I learned to laugh at my own experiences, which is a vital part of my journey.
Has this process ever felt cathartic?
Absolutely. There are times when I cry for days, and that’s perfectly okay. We often have notions about emotions, particularly in a patriarchal society where men are expected to be stoic. Allowing ourselves to cry is essential. Emotions are important, and living in one emotion for too long can be harmful.
Another intriguing element in your play is the choreography—using props like shoes and hair to create a dance-like quality.
The performative aspect begins even in the writing stage. As I write, I visualize how the body moves. The writing itself becomes a performance, intertwining physical, mental, and emotional states. The text informs the physicality and structure of the performance. For instance, moments of exhaustion naturally lead to a change in movement and energy.
In Notions, you incorporated poetry, satire, and personal narrative. How did you combine these different forms?
I don’t subscribe to rigid forms; what matters is my internal thought process. I focus on my feelings and how those thoughts evolve. The form often emerges organically during performance. There’s an ongoing debate about form versus content in art. I believe they are intertwined; what you express and how you express it are inseparable.
My journey began with an existential crisis that pushed me to write about my personal experiences. Initially, I had gone through significant events but never expressed them in writing. When I started to document my feelings, it became a healing process, leading me to explore poetry and creative expression more deeply.
Words Paridhi Badgotri
Date 21.10.2024