An octogenarian ‘ustad’ sat behind the harmonium gives cues to a group of girls in front of him. The girls prod each other with their elbows, casting furious glances at the boys who don’t miss a chance to poke fun at them singing. A young man sits behind the tabla, his fingers landing deftly and syncing in perfect harmony with the harmonium keys. A back-up tabla player stares fixatedly at his fingers soaking in every beat. Huddled in another corner is a group of teenage boys. They fiddle with the props, playfully enacting scenes from the Ramayana. One of them turns out to be ‘Sita’. The staging of the Ramlila in Bageshwar is only two weeks away.
The 86 year old 'ustad' (Image 1) and the kids (image 2)
Such is the landscape of the room where the ‘taleem’ (rehearsal) for the Ramlila performance in Bageshwar is in progress. Located approximately 75 kilometers from Almora in Kumaon Uttarakhand, Bageshwar is a valley town situated at the confluence of three rivers – the Sarju, the Gomati and the mythical Saraswati, the prayag of the Himalayas. Known primarily for the Bagnath Mandir dedicated to Shiva and the famous annual ‘Uttarayani Mela’ this town is also a popular pit-stop for hikers and trekkers making their way to the Pindari glacier, 60 kilometers ahead.
The enactment
The Ramlila performances in Kumaon Uttarakhand are a big affair, peculiar for their distinctly musical nature, elaborate costumes and several months of taleem. Although the Ramlila at Almora (particularly that at the Hukka Club) has come to occupy a significant position in Kumaoni culture, the one in Bageshwar is no different, albeit at a smaller scale. “Humare yahan sab contribute karte hain”, says Manoj Pandey, the ‘adhyaksh’ (president) of the Ramlila Committee in Bageshwar. 10-year-old school boys, 22-year-old college president, 45-year-old shopkeeper are all active participants in this effort, in whatever capacity. However, all the roles in this week long saga are played by men. An exclusive male Ramlila is not particular to Bageshwar alone – Almora, Varanasi, in fact most of Northern India allow only an all male cast. The only female presence at the taleem were the chorus girls. They have double responsibilities – performing the auspicious ‘Ganesh Vandana’ each night and accompanying a to-be wed Sita on the day of her swayamvar.
The Girl Gang (Image 1); Ustad(s) on a break (Image 2)
I arrived at Bageshwar when the rehearsals for the Ramlila had been underway for almost a month. Hence, the actors had already mingled, some of them repeat players, some of them, first-timers. Manoj, who essays the role of Ravan’s sister Shurpanakha had agreed to introduce me to backstage preparations. He has been involved in the Ramlila for the past eleven years and has played Shurpanakha, Kaushalya (Ram’s mother) and Mandodari (Ravan’s wife), sometimes all of them in the same year. His prowess and experience make him a repository of immense trivia – which actor has been playing what role for how many years, which one is at the taleem just for fun, who gets along with whom among other things.
The 'taleem' in progress
News of a ‘baagh’ (leopard) doing the rounds of the town at night especially close to the Numaish Khet had spread even before the Ramlila began. The Numaish Khet is the dedicated venue for the Ramlila. Even the baagh’s absence during the day marked its presence; alive in the discussions at the taleem. In fact, on the first day of the performance, a baagh had attacked a 5-year-old boy who was fortunately rescued by his mother. That is why the audience has thinned this year, the president of the committee suggested to me.
Most people in the taleem room are there for a “part khelna”. As Manoj put it, “Main pichle 11 saal se Shurpanakha ka part khel raha hun”, or how Tushar said, “Main pehli baar Sita ka part khel raha hun”. It literally translates into ‘playing a part’. However, part or no part, a group of middle aged men is always to be found. They could be asked to play anything – from King Janak’s dwarpal (King Janak’s doormen) to Ravan’s sidekicks when he marches into Sita’s swayamvar. The only conditions they need to fulfil is that they should be able to tap their feet and if the need be, exercise their vocal chords. In return, they are able to suggest how the main cast goes about its business, often interrupting the taleem.

Middle-aged interruption
Months of taleem can only hone one’s skills to an extent. Although the starting time printed on the pamphlets all over town is 8:00 P.M., the actors arrive only by 7:30 P.M. to don their godly attires and be smothered in make-up. Irrespective of what character is being portrayed, a base foundation and lipstick is a must, be it a devta (god) or a rakshasa (demon). Eyebrows are fashioned with a thick application of kajal, and the principal characters have intricate patterns painted on their face. Two make-up dadas sit in two different chairs, and the actors line up in front of them. Some are really concerned about the accuracy of the make-up, some have YouTube tutorials playing on their phone while some just want the job to be done with. Whatever might be their degree of excitement, one thing is clear: no one leaves the room plain-faced.
Lights, camera, make up!
Lest we be mistaken that the conclusive product of days of taleem is a serious musical affair, we are met with a bunch of characters whose only ‘part’ during the week-long performance is that of extempore fun – a court jester dressed as a Disney clown and a dwarpal versed in Bollywood songs and contemporary Indian politics. With the aid of collar mikes and slapstick humour, they roam amongst the audience poking fun at the characters on stage, especially when kings from various regions come to woo Sita in her swayamvar. One of the most popular jibes (and evoking maximum laughter from the audience) repeatedly used by these characters was to ask the arriving kings if they’ve brought along their aadhaar card for identification!

The court jester, at rest
On the fifth day of the Ramlila, Shurpanakha takes her chances first with Ram and then Lakshman, only to leave with a bleeding nose. Manoj has gone to great lengths to make sure his lehenga, jewelry, make-up and accessories are in perfect condition. After all, he’s been doing this for the past eleven years and each performance can only be an improvement upon the previous. “Mere part ko dekhne ke liye sabse zyada log aate hain”, says Manoj. This is indeed the case. Peeking from the make-up room at the performance venue, one can see that the crowd is at its thickest, everyone eagerly awaiting Shurpanakha’s entry. Manoj had painstakingly explained to me the three core elements of his performance – dance, song and dialogue. This is way more than any other character in the Ramlila, he sighed. He has an undisputable inspiration for his role, “Sridevi!”. “Mere poore parivar ko bahut bada sadma laga tha jab wo guzri thi.” Manoj was still mournful of Sridevi’s recent death. The movies Chandni and Nagin are his canons for dance moves as Shurpanakha.
From Manoj to Shurpanakha
Manoj erupts onto the stage amidst thunderous applause at the same time as the Nagin OST plays. He doesn’t miss a beat, sways his waist and hips making sure his lehenga twirls for everyone to see. The bling of his jewelry sparks in every eye. He gets down from the stage, moves closer to the crowd, ensuring each detail of his get-up is noticed by the audience at close quarters. He accosts Ram, Lakshman and a wide-eyed Sita seated in a makeshift thatched roof, clad in gerua-coloured clothes. Grinning coquettishly at the two brothers, he circles around them, singing. The trio gawk at the multihued dancing figure. Manoj approaches a mike stand to begin his innuendo-laden song and dialogue, addressing not only the trio but also the crowd. After all, the crowd has come to see a show!
All hail Shurpanakha!
As the myth went, Shurpanakha’s attempt in casual flirtation did not bid well for her. In spite of this, Manoj leaves no stone unturned in his performance. He sings, he dances, he talks, the nose is slashed and he makes his way out. However, one is sure that the roaring applause (accompanied with whistles and hoots) is not for Shurpanakha’s humiliation, but for Manoj’s show.
The next morning, there is no news of a ‘baagh’ at Numaish Khet or anywhere in the town. Jokingly, Manoj comments, “Mere part ke darr se baagh bhi nahi aaya!”.
From set-up to performance
(I would like to thank Manoj Chaniyal, Vishal Soriyal, Kaushal Upadhyaya and Manoj Pandey for their valuable inputs on the Ramlila in Bageshwar)
(This post also appears on the website of The Quint. Follow this link: https://www.thequint.com/photos/a-photo-dispatch-from-bageshwar-uttarakhand-backstage-preparations-ramlila)
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