Glitch in the Myth opened at Thespo 25, in December 2023.
Vivek Madan asks the production’s polymath, Anoushka Zaveri, a few questions.
Skip to the end for show details and the ticket link.
Q Why did you want to tell this story? Have you always been curious about myths? And interested in subverting them?
A I think I was 13 or 14 years old when I first performed a Ramayana-based Bharatnatyam piece. In classical dance it is almost quotidian to refer to the epics for stories. We keep doing it. My problem was, I discovered, that we don’t do anything more.
I suppose mythology & folk stories have always been a part of my artistic life. Dancing, reading the Amar Chitra Katha, and studying mythology as an academic activity deepened my interest.
I know the language of the myths well: the immensely coded, lofty, Natyashastra-style of gestures. But the myths themselves now feel stale—like they don’t live up to my expectations, challenges, needs as a young, urban woman living in modern India.
So I was like… okay, I know this language, and perhaps can’t change it too much. But I can change the things I present through it. A fair, doe-eyed, morally upright mythical kanya doesn’t fit what I want from the mythologies that occupy my culture. So I want to make these women more like me, re-chisel these pure-as-milk icons so that I feel better about looking up to them.
Things with mythology started to get serious when I entered my whole “woke af liberal education kid with thick glasses & a thicker book in her jute tote bag” era. I did my M.A. in English Literature & studied the Ramayana closely. Some things really didn’t agree with me then: why is Sita a prop? She is literally the one entity they are all fighting over. Why is Surpanakha rejected so terribly? If Lord You-Know-Who is so great why did he violate her so?
Seemingly, these myths were already full of glitches when I encountered them. I just added some more to the mix.
Q How did the idea develop? Did you have any false starts? Misfires?
A The idea totally came from classical dance. And from not wanting to play the mum, coy heroine who gets 2 minutes of stage time in a 20-minute choreography. I decided, in a very Woolf-writing-Mrs.Dalloway manner, that I will make these mythological heroines speak while also dancing, and rapping, and crying, and laughing, and playing the fool. It was creatively a delicious idea that I couldn’t wait to start working on.
I wrote most of it at a workshop in Kerala. And I wrote it with unnatural speed & consistency because I had a deadline! It started out as a 50-page ramble in my journal—brevity is not my strong suit—and then became a 20-page document. I killed my darlings violently. They bled to death and I watched it happen.
A misfire I’m fond of rehashing is: I wrote a performance glossary, a classical dance vocabulary of sorts to be performed with gestures, footwork, movement—almost a manual to the play that is to follow. I worked very hard on creating this in rehearsal too. I thought I was doing some great big thing by telling people that HEY when I raise my hands like this it means I’m now a deer.
Then I realized that the audience I was writing for is actually much more aware than I thought, and that these gestures that I thought people wouldn’t understand were everywhere—on TV, in temples, in old-timey calendars, on tiles, in comic books. I cut the vocabulary from the script. This was an easy way to shave off 15 minutes from the play.
Q Is Glitch in the Myth your first play as a maker? What did you do before this?
A It’s my first play! I’ve convinced myself that it was five years in the making so that I can feel like I did something productive with my youth :)
Before Glitch, I was part of the team that organizes Thespo, a national-level youth theatre movement. I had a full-time teaching job after that. At one point, I wanted to do a PhD in English Literature but then I realized that most academic journals will never accept my writing.
I worked in journalism for a bit, with The Hindu and Condé Nast Traveller India. Did production for some plays in the Mumbai circuit, got obsessed with making (and burning) banana bread during the pandemic, learned how to do a side split, read a considerable number of books, and got serious about my Bharatanatyam training.
Working in production taught me everything I know. I was able to self-produce Glitch because I was familiar with publicity plans, sourcing props, marking the stage, and show-day schedules. It’s almost like the confidence to produce gave me the courage to write. So if you’re a closeted actor/writer in your banana bread phase, production is a good nahi GREAT place to start.
Q I remember you at Thespo as one of the Fellows. Coordinating, planning and so on... How different was this experience?
A Massively different. I started rehearsing alone and in secret; I didn’t want anyone to expect anything from me. There were no phone calls, assembling of team members, no blocking of dates. Just me and an empty, white room.
It soon became an exercise in balancing between extravagance and restraint:“No, you can’t do a cartwheel here”“umm hello this joke is only funny to you”“yes you can take 20 full minutes to establish this character”
“Sure, use a British accent for Ram”
There was no one to stop me, and also no one to reign me in. I felt invincible. Not having outside opinions was freeing but it also led to a lot of doubt. Can I tell this story? Can a young woman like me reimagine an epic that is far, far more ancient than her? Can she take her liberties with it, with Sita, with Ram? I’m going to be cheesy and say that in a way, I was coordinating with myself.
Planning Thespo taught me so, so much about theatre—what the right systems and protocols are for helping a story unfold. On the other hand, Glitch guided me inward. I realized, “oh this is what I think about form”, that I have a tendency to overuse stage right while directing, how much stamina I will need for a 90-minute piece, where and why my own politics falter, and that my eyes can do more than I ever imagined. It has been a slow but wonderful process of self-discovery.
And let’s face it, not having to check with eight other people about whether they can rehearse tomorrow is freaking fantastic.
Q After having worked with just one other person, your sister at that, you have since been cast in 3 or 4 other plays. How easy or difficult has it been to take direction and work with a team, after working on Glitch...?
A It has been LIBERATING to be directed by another person, not because I was trapped or anything when I was directing myself, but because it exposed me to different directors’ styles and aesthetic motivations.
I think, for me, taking direction is easy. My classical dance training has made me a very obedient performer. What’s difficult is trusting the writing! The three other projects I’m on are more or less written & directed by the same person. It has been hard for me to feel ownership over someone else’s words, and consequently, to perform/embody them convincingly. Some of my co-actors do this brilliantly though. I’m lucky to be able to learn from them.
Working with a team is fantastic. It’s incredible to think that I made a show about sisterhood and community & then went out and found exactly that! I enjoy playing off of other people’s energy (I’ve basically drained the white wall I rehearse Glitch in front of). But I’ve noticed that as a body, because of my dance background and habit of performing solo, I take up a lot of space. That’s something I’m working on: being mindful of another actor's personal space and body. Right now I’m a cannonball let loose in rehearsal; I tend to whack, kick, shove, push all my co-actors!!!
Q As a matter of fact, what is it like to work with your own sister? Did you take work home? Did your relationship change? What would you advise other people who want to work with family members?
A Maahi and I are both headstrong people. We want what we want. There are creative clashes for sure, but that’s when the boundaries of what roles we are playing in this process comes in handy. We try to resolve differences gently and maturely, but it’s difficult. I mean, I was there when she grew her first teeth and she has seen me through my coloured jeans phase! When you know somebody this well you feel like you are entitled to quarrel.
There have been complaints of a deranged Anoushka rousing Maahi from sleep at 3am with “I’m changing the Kaikai vocals. They are not grand enough. And you need to project to the last row”. So yeah, I guess we took work home. What’s fun about it though, is that we have this big beautiful thing in common that not only unites our characters in the show, but us as sisters/people/artists.
And it unites our two art forms as well: her Hindustani vocal training that is heavy on experimentation and spontaneity and my Bharatanatyam training that is choreographed down to every eye flutter. I would like to believe we’ve helped each other break the boundaries of these forms in the show.
Q What is your take on art shaping public discourse? For eg: where do you stand on the issue of a film like Animal? Should it have been made? Should it have been watched? And do you see a correlation between that and your own work and impetus to make it?
A I’ll be honest; I’ve not watched Animal yet. But I’ve paid some attention to the discourse around it. At this moment in my artistic journey, I believe that people should make whatever they want, as long as they take responsibility for it. If you create something that goes against the grain, you are allowed to stand by it, as you should, but then everyone else is also allowed to stand by what they consider right.
The whole “it’s just fiction” and the “audience should be intelligent enough to not copy it” doesn’t sit right with me though. We are a culture heavily inspired and influenced by cinema. And perhaps commercial filmmakers need to accept that truth and recalibrate. The same allure cinema uses to inform/entertain has the power to misinform too. We cannot shy away from this fact for the sake of creative freedom.
I take responsibility for what I create. Whoever watches Glitch is allowed to question me and I’m unreasonably happy to cite my sources and explain my research. Nobody has to agree with me on anything. I’m just presenting another way of thinking about this story. I’m doing my job as a storyteller and as an audience, you are allowed to interpret it however you want. If the show is able to produce civil, healthy debate on its themes, I’ll take it as a win.
TBH I’m fine as long as things don’t get violent and the show goes on.
Q And finally, what's next? More writing, more directing? Directing a different person's script? Writing a piece for someone else to direct?
A The past year has been spent living life as a performing artist. I don’t think I’ve had enough of it. So that’s on the To Continue list. I’m looking forward to writing and directing something new this year, and perhaps also formally announcing my theatre company (I just have to find a name haha).
As for Glitch, we are being shamelessly ambitious and trying to do 25 shows in 2025. Don’t hold me to this though. The show has found some great new friends and hopefully will travel to a few new cities. All this is on the To Do list but lists change; Glitch is open to glitches!
UPCOMING SHOWS
7 Jan | 8pm
8 Jan | 6pm and 9pm
Prithvi Theatre, Mumbai
ABOUT
Venture into the inside-out, upside-down worlds of Sita’s Ramayana! Glitch in the Myth gives you front-row seats to Sita’s childhood, her marriage, her time at court, in the forest… & her subsequent disappearance. Who is responsible? Will she return? To find out, embark on a journey of secret sisterhoods, unlikely alliances, & twists in the tale that spark revolution.
This multidisciplinary departure from the oft-told Ramayana takes you on a journey from Mithila to Lanka with Sita, Sakhi, and a slew of characters both strange and familiar.
CREDITS
Visual Identity:
Tamanna Rajabali
Dramaturgical Support:
Meghana AT
Light Design:
Adi Shastri
Prerna
Production Manager:
Hiya Saraf
Rhythm, Vocals, and Music Direction:
Maahi Zaveri
Written, Performed, and Directed by
Anoushka Zaveri
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