You mention that in this book you have looked at your father with the twin lens of a daughter and chronicler of his life. Was it challenging to separate the two?
In the process of translating one’s life experiences into a book, or any other work of art, they tend to transform and gain an autonomy of their own, and therefore, no longer remain strictly personal. Writing a biography exerts its own demands, the most significant being the need to be credible. In this instance, my parents ceased being my parents and instead became characters outside of myself, whom I needed to depict as truly as possible. From this perspective, it was not difficult for me to be objective. Having said that, I confess it was not always easy.
Bobby Padamsee mentored Ebrahim Alkazi in many ways. How do you think that shaped his life?
I believe Bobby introduced Alkazi to the idea that all arts are interrelated, especially in an art form like theatre. Secondly, that it was important for us as Indians to inculcate an appreciation of art not only from our own traditions, but also from across the world, in order to construct a new, modern, indigenous identity. Such ideas were regarded as startling and revolutionary in the 1940s, and certainly played a seminal role in the formulation of Alkazi’s ideas and approach to subjects like modernity, tradition and cultural identity—concerns that were central to a new nation in the aftermath of two devastating World Wars, as well as one that was on its journey of decolonisation.
Alkazi calls himself a Maharashtrian Arab. Was he was satisfied with this identity?
I believe he referred to himself as a Maharashtrian Arab half in jest, as that was the closest he could ever be to claiming an Indian identity for himself. It was, however, ironic and extraordinary that a person of Saudi Arab-descent, who was born and brought up in Maharashtra, spent his entire life naturalising himself and dedicating his efforts towards propagating an inclusive worldview that would look beyond a narrow understanding of the word ‘national’. But, in the larger perspective, Alkazi largely saw himself as a world citizen.
What do you think is your father’s biggest contribution to theatre?
It is not my effort through this biography to ‘assess’ my father’s contribution to Indian theatre or the arts as a whole. That is for others to do. My intention is to define his dreams and share with audiences his process of realising them.
What do you hope the readers take back from this book and your father’s life?
I hope that young people will find this story inspiring. The trajectory of this book encompasses vast changes that have taken place in the cultural life of the country over practically a full century. Caught up in an exciting era of tumultuous change, we see Alkazi, a young migrant, committing himself to a country and an idea of building a new perception and reception of modern art.
It is also the story of a non-entity who builds himself up from scratch, step by step. It is the story of the need to have an idea, and find the simplest way of realising it. It is a story of what principles one stands by, and which one is willing to forego. It is the story of making choices, and of people, with an intense belief in the efficacy of art, to bring about a change in society. It is the story of youngsters who believe in a different kind of nationalism, other than the one that is being proposed today. Alkazi, in his being, and through his choices, challenges notions of who can be considered a true Indian. So, I hope that audiences of different ages, from different backgrounds, will read and respond to this biography on multiple levels.