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Up-staged!
“Lahore: In a bid to ban all ‘vulgarity and indecent dancing’ from the commercial stage, a new code of ethics is being drawn up ... the proposed code of ethics will allow a maximum of two dances per play (and that too) as long as they abide by the proper dress code and the dances follow the classical pattern ... the commercial theatre’s new code is based on the PTV policy ... video cameras will be installed in commercial theatres for a foolproof monitoring of dialogues to prevent artistes from uttering vulgarities ....”
As this writer sauntered into a theatre in Lahore, the deafening volume of the loudspeakers playing Punjabi and Bollywood item numbers welcomed all and sundry. Standing at the entrance with no idea where to sit down as almost everyone occupied two seats — one to sit and the other to comfortably spread their legs — I had to contend with a broken seat in the second-last row of the theatre. In the process of settling down, the person sitting right next to me said that I was late and that I had just missed the dancer Bijli who literally sends shock waves through the crowds.
Almost every five to 10 minutes there was a new girl, a new song, and a new dance item presented before the audience who seemed to be on an unusual high, as reflected the applause, whistles and calls that were directed towards the dancing girls on stage
On stage, the scene was that of a 40ish Punjabi Jatt clad in a blood red kurta and a sharp yellow dhoti with a huge wooden stick in his hand who was upset with his girlfriend, Chambeli, a sweet 18-year-old village belle who cannot stand the fact that he is upset with her. Clad in a shocking orange sari and dangerously high heels, her hair let loose, her make-up loud and garish (dark red lipstick with the rest of her face concealed behind thick layers of a variety of shades), Chambeli looks way older than any 18-year-old.
Without wasting any more time, she breaks into the loud Bollywood remix number, Kaanta Laga. Her movement was hardly in sync with the music, rather it appeared to be a mere attempt to display body motions. The frequent slips of her sari’s pallu from her shoulder gave the audience a generous glimpse of her assets (and we’re not talking about her acting talent here) that immediately invited countless whistles and catcalls. It seems as if all of Chambeli’s attention was focused on seducing the audience rather than her boyfriend, who stood patiently besides a tree with a frown on his face.
Scenes kept on changing, and after almost every five to 10 minutes there was a new girl, a new song, and a new dance item presented before the audience who seemed to be on an unusual high, as reflected the applause, whistles and calls that were directed towards the actors, specially the dancing girls on stage. The dances were anything but creative or classical and the dialogues were anything but decent. The men who were accompanied with their friends relished the experience thoroughly, while the ones who dared to enter the premises of the theatre with their family in anticipation of some form of entertainment seemed quite uncomfortable (wonder why they chose to come in the first place).
This writer was unable to figure out the central theme of the play till the very end, but such is the case with almost all commercial theatre taking place in Lahore these days. Before one thought the play was over, another girl came running on to the stage out of nowhere and served the audience with another dance number that marked the culmination of the sleaze fest. A huge collection of similar dances and plays are conveniently available on VCDs and DVDs in almost every movie shop across the country.
As the curtain dropped, one could hear people discussing what a great experience the show was. If this is the standard of the fun and entertainment of the masses at large, I guess, something is seriously wrong somewhere.
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