Kunal Kapoor: We are like sharks; we have to keep swimming

On a buzzy afternoon earlier in the week, amid the steady hum of workers readying Prithvi for the annual festival (November 1-17), with members of production teams and actors flitting back and forth, an otherwise reticent Kapoor made the time for an impassioned chat at Prithvi Adda on a subject closest to his heart – the performing arts, and what Mumbai can learn from global practices.

While his grandfather Prithviraj Kapoor established the touring company Prithvi Theatres in 1944, Prithvi Theatre, envisioned by Shashi Kapoor and brought to fruition by his wife Jennifer, was established in 1978.

“Theatre is not just in our DNA, it is in our skin,” Kapoor said of himself, and for his siblings, London-based photographer Karan, and sister Sanjana.

Excerpts from an interview where he spoke about the Kapoor-Kendal inheritance and the matter of survival of the performing arts in Mumbai today.

Unlike cinema halls, theatres, which are crucial to the development and promotion of the performing arts, are known to perpetually be in the red. Have you managed to turn around Prithvi’s finances over time?

No; we are still in the red. More pennies, please.

I remember, dad and I had approached the Vazir Sultan Tobacco (VST) company in 1985 to sponsor our festival; we had a relationship with them as they had sponsored two earlier festivals. We were running into losses of ₹84,000 at the time, and we wanted them to plug the losses. Our association with them ran for nine years. We put a plaque in front of the theatre saying the festival was sponsored by VST. After that, Hutch entered the mix, in its various avatars. So that kept us afloat for a while. It is only after 2010 when teams changed the relationship ended.

I often have this argument with sponsors – you spend huge amounts of money for a single concert; but it’s only for one night. Does anyone remember a sponsor? You can pump the same amount of money for at least four shows and your name can be put on the plaque which people will see several times.

It is an association; it cannot be treated as just another event. But people in corporates today don’t have that kind of patience. New people come in and they move on.

But we are like sharks; we have to keep swimming. If we stop, we will sink.

So you do more shows.

That keeps us afloat on a running cost.

No matter what the political views, the emotional priorities of our nation stem from issues that tug at the heart strings. So there are schemes to support destitute women, to promote education and healthcare for the needy etc. While they are very important concerns, the arts are graded very low.

I remember a top executive of an ad agency I was working in at the time calling people in theatre jhola-walas. They are not! But it seems like that for a certain set of people who view the world from their ivory towers in south Mumbai.

Can you go back to the time when there were just a few theatres in the city — Chhabildas and Bhaidas were prominent. What were your early impressions?

Yes, the Opera House had shut down around the time we were growing up. There was Homi Bhabha Theatre in Colaba; and Marathi, Gujarati and Parsi theatres were flourishing. There were many smaller theatres functioning around Grant Road.

However, theatres were giving way to cinema halls in the ’40s and ’50s. And if I may digress, I hold a grudge against cinema halls being called theatres. The name stuck because once upon a time the halls were theatres. That is the problem with the Bombay development plan as well – our property here has been marked as a cinema theatre, which it is not.

It is akin to all vacuum cleaners being called Hoovers; or all photocopiers Xerox.

My grandfather Prithviraj Kapoor had written an appeal to Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel seeking finance to build a theatre in Bombay, following a successful tour in north India with his theatre company. Such was the desperation that he used to perform plays at these “theatres” at 9 am, after which film shows would begin.

So, the performing arts scenario in the Bombay I grew up in was very limited. But my parents did the best they could to expose us. My mother once took me to watch a jugalbandi between Ustad Vilayat Khan and Ustad Bismillah Khan, right in the middle of my ICSE exams. It was an awful theatre with terrible mics, but I remember that concert vividly and get goosebumps even today.

Performing theatre was always a struggle and continues to remain so.

Theatres in the West are supported by local councils, and the government does not dictate its terms. We don’t want the government to support us in that manner but would appreciate it if the GST on tickets are removed, so that more audiences can come to theatres.

What were the conversations on the arts in the Kapoor-Kendal household?

We grew up in a multi-cultural home. My parents were disciplinarians as well as indulgent. We would be up by 7 am, at the breakfast table at 7:30 – it was mandatory for all of us to be at the breakfast table together; even if my father had returned home at 4am in the morning, he had to be there. We finished by 8:15 and then were off to school, and my father would leave at 8:30 for a 9 am shift. Dad never ever worked on a Sunday.

We talked about watching plays and performances they had seen. It’s not just our DNA. It’s in our skin. Sanjana, who is eight years younger to me, imbibed it as well; at 10 she would watch our mother discuss Prithvi’s building plan with the architect.

Was that extended during holidays?

We travelled to England every year in the summer. My parents would park my brother and me, and eventually Sanjana, with my cousins in Birmingham, and return to London for two weeks when they would watch two films and a play every day.

I remember once in my later years, we rented a place at King’s Road, which is close to the Royal Court Theatre, where they watched Sizwe Banzi is Dead, by Athol Fugard, performed by two black South African actors. (It’s a play about a man who assumes the identity of a dead man to survive during apartheid.) After watching the play, they returned home on a high.

10 years later I watched the same play performed by the same actors – it was amazing.

So that’s what we did – discussed theatre, movies and food; not the stock markets or jewellery.

Earlier as kids, what did you do in Birmingham?

Oh, we were tiny. We would go to a girls’ school with my cousins. After their two weeks in London, my parents would pick us up and bring us back to London, where we would go to the museums and parks.

Your parents chose to live in Napeansea Road, far off from Juhu — the filmy hub. And your mother had recreated one of the balconies in the apartment into what she called the “chamcha room”. Was there a deliberate attempt to keep the children away from the thick of the industry?

That room was created to keep the hanger-ons away from intruding on family time. However, there were a few from the industry who lived in south Bombay at the time — Sharmila Tagore, Ramesh Sippy, Yash Johar, Shammi uncle etc. But yes, there was a conscious effort to keep us away from the razzmatazz. I think it was also done to give us an unaffected environment to grow up in, not influenced by either world.

I remember mom taking us to Regal to watch the film version of the Bolshoi Ballet’s Swan Lake.

What is the high point of theatre in Mumbai today?

Prithvi. I must admit I have no patience with amateur theatre of the kind where people who have day jobs dabble in acting over the weekend.

What’s wrong with amateur theatre? People are allowed to express their passions.

I may be interested in dentistry, but will you let me pull out your tooth?

Much disservice is being done to theatre by hobby-class artistes. In fact, I am scheduled to discuss the lack of training among young artistes today in a meeting this afternoon. They need to be invested in the craft.

You have lived in south Mumbai and now you are in Juhu. Both places have a different kind of affluence. Can you explain the ecosystem of the two worlds?

There is no taking away from the fact that Bombay – the seven islands — was built by the British. That was the hub of culture and art. The ad agencies were there; Nariman Point was the business district. When my father wanted to build a theatre in Juhu, people were shocked. “Who would come to watch plays in Juhu,” they asked. His answer was simple – where there are people, there will be an audience.

Gradually, the youth started moving to north Mumbai, as south was becoming expensive, and also because the city was expanding. Today, I feel south Mumbai is artistically dead.

Why do you say that?

I am saying it with conviction. South Mumbai is only about the stock exchange, lawyers and courts. The advertising industry has moved. Throw a stone at Aram Nagar and see how many production houses you will hit. When I asked my son if he were given a blank cheque would he live in Walkeshwar or Versova? He chose the latter. His rationale being, if he wants to get a beer in SoBo, he has to go down from the building, find a taxi and drive 15 to 25 minutes. On the other hand, here in a five-minute walk you have innumerable choices.

I have also noted that kids who have grown up in the northern suburbs are a more aware lot. So if you are in the arts, this is where you should be. There are a number of gigs and performances taking place here – from big spaces to little ones in small lanes.

The diminishing of Famous Studios is a case in point. Why could they not have converted it into a shopping, theatre and entertainment hub like Covent Garden?

How do you see the city’s recent transformation?

We are boasting about the Metro as a big achievement – London’s Metro is 100 years old. We were only a 100 years late. Likewise in Paris. But I am hoping the charm of south Mumbai may be revived with the new infra. I feel certain that it will eventually be reinvented as a cultural centre. Architecturally, south Mumbai is aesthetic, as opposed to the north which is rife with egg-crate architecture. Look at Powai – it looks like a toy land; and does not have any theatre.

Who do you like to hang out with in Mumbai?

I am not very social. I have always been very insular. I have friends in theatre – they are directors and actors; we meet periodically and brainstorm. But I don’t want to meet them every day.

We are sitting at the Prithvi Adda; like other places have you faced any pressure from realtors?

I have not got a single call yet. So we are good.

What are your favourite Mumbai hangouts? Apart from your home?

Well, we have created a “chamcha room” here, which is basically a suite filled with hard drives and tapes. I do spend time there. When I visit town, I am sure to get a meal at the Ling’s Pavilion.

What is your favourite Mumbai food?

There is so much to choose from. The batata vadas in Worli and Dadar are very good. Just the other day I took a friend to a Goan restaurant in the neighbourhood — we had Jinga, pomfret, a whole thaali and more. The bill was just ₹1400. You could taste the freshness of the food. I also had a smashing meal at KTR in Versova the other day.

We are going to a friend’s house this evening, who is a foodie. She is cooking for six of us. We will have excellent alcohol and excellent food. There is an amazing line of home chefs that I regularly order from.

I however get irritated with high-end restaurants that charge a bomb and offer substandard food.

What are the changes that you would like to see in Mumbai? What can be done for ease of living?

15 years ago when I used to ride, I would reach the racecourse in 20 minutes, which overtime extended to an hour and a half. Where are the roads? What am I paying taxes for? We have to stop being subservient and not accept everything coming our way.

Do you watch contemporary Hindi films? Is there anything you may have watched recently that you liked?

I thought 12th Fail was really good. It was a cool film.

What about international productions?

I recently watched One Battle after Another and I was blown. While in London in June, I watched Inter Alia, written by Suzie Miller, and starring Rosamund Pike. Pike’s performance was a triumph.