First performed for a competition in 1978, Ghotbhar Pani (A sip of water) was written against a background of the urban middle-class concerns that dominated, and continue to dominate, Marathi theatre. Even when theatre was experimenting with folk forms, as seen most notably in Vijay Tendulkar's Ghashiram Kotwal, the themes still revolved around the concerns of the haves as opposed to the have-nots. As such, when 30-year-old Premanand Gajvi, two generations down from Tendulkar, wrote Ghotbhar Pani, he faced the challenge of giving voice to the concerns of the oppressed that had never found their place in this theatre. The play was like water to the thirsty, and was performed in villages all over Maharashtra. Its 1000th playing was staged in Bombay in 1993, 15 years after it was written.
(The curtain rises. Two youths appear. The midday sun burns overhead. The exhausted young men are panting for shade but everything around is barren, desolate, stunted. The grass, dried yellow, glints in the sun.)
(The curtain comes down to the refrain of 'A sip of water', 'A sip of water'.) Premanand Gajvi has written 12 full-length plays and five collections of one-acts. This piece was first published in STQ.
ONE. Roast. Roast us, you son-of-a-bitch.
TWO. It's blistering. Not a tree, not one.
ONE. Sit. (Finds a comparatively grassy patch and sits down.) Sit down. (Two sits beside him.) People sit in the shade of trees. We'll sit in the shade of the sun. You can sit in my shade. You're exhausted aren't you?
TWO. Hand me the water-bag. I'm parched.
ONE. (Unscrews the cap of the water-bag and tilts it. Two cups his palms, dying for a gulp of water. His palms remain empty.)
Drink, drink.
TWO. Drink what? You're not pouring.
ONE. Pour from where? (Jerks the water-bag to show there's nothing in it.)
TWO. You're joking.
ONE. Never. There may be no alternative to a life-insurance policy. But there is to water. At least on this difficult occasion.
TWO. What?
ONE. The final holy water!
TWO. Don't joke!
ONE. You were drinking away merrily when you weren't thirsty. Now wait till we get to a river or a village
TWO. This rustic life is sheer death.
ONE. Will you show death as rural life in your research paper on the village? Wait, here's an old man coming our way. Let's ask him if there's a river or…
TWO. I'll ask. (One assumes the role of an old man. One and Two will change roles throughout the play.) How far's the village from here, grandpa?
ONE. Ye're asking me?
TWO. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
ONE. Which village are ye comin' from, sir?
TWO. From very, very far.
ONE. Ye mean from the city?
TWO. Right. That's right.
ONE. Thought so. Go straight past those four fields. See the bushes and trees? Go past them, cross the river and ye're there.
TWO. (In English) Thank you.
ONE. What's that?
TWO. (In Marathi) I said … er … dhanyavaad.
ONE. I see. (The old man disappears. One appears.) Come on mate, step smart. Meanwhile, let me create a whole ocean for your thirst.
(Sings)
My eyes in your eyes
Deep blue Arabian Sea
Waves surge at the shore
That's not the truth
The seabed is vast
And still, utterly still.
TWO. A sip of water … Beautiful. Truly beautiful! They say this land runs with sweet water springs. Here's another picture …
Ganga, Yamuna, Goda, Kaveri
All rivers of female sex
And how does the water flow?
Though of neuter gender?
Barren, without purushartha
This civilisation
Lives in the famine of tradition
The earth too is cracked, mouth gaping
Soil won't let soil have
A sip of water.
***
(Two is halfway through lifting his cupped palms to his mouth.)
ONE. Get away, bastard! You've polluted the river, you lowborn corpse-burner.
TWO. Just one sip of water, father. My mouth is dry, my life's in my throat.
ONE. Then I'll slit your throat for you, bastard.
TWO. Have pity, my lord. Not a drop in my mouth since morning. Waited long at the well so's some kind soul might feed me water. But nobody has pity for us. Didn't know what to do, so I came here. Even cats and dogs drink this water I thought …
ONE. Grown too smart, eh? Thrash him. Squeeze his
water out.
TWO. I fall at your feet, my lord.
ONE. Don't touch me! Thrash the bastard.
TWO. No, no, my lord. I made a mistake. Please … oh God, save me … I'll die … help … help me someone please.
ONE. Let me see which man and his father come to
help you!
***
TWO. (Writhing in agony.)
Barren, without purushartha
This civilisation
Lives in the famine of tradition
The earth too is cracked, mouth gaping
Soil won't let soil have
A sip of water!
TWO. One village.
ONE. Long live!
TWO. One water-source.
ONE. Long live! One village, one water-source!
TWO. Long live, long live!
***
ONE. Why's all this 'long live' and 'down with' going on in our village?
TWO. You mean you don't know? Who's the police chief around here?
ONE. I'm the man.
TWO. You? Namaskar.
ONE. Ram, Ram!
TWO. So chief, you don't want to let the Dalits live, eh?
ONE. What do you mean?
TWO. There's news of a thrashing because the river
was polluted.
ONE. Really? Hasn't reached my ears.
TWO. It's in the papers. It's everywhere; and you
don't know?
ONE. Who reads those papers of yours, mister? They don't even reach us here. How're we to know?
TWO. Okay. So who beat up Chokha Kamble?
ONE. When?