More powerful than the Dandi March, more powerful than the Non-Violence Movement. The 1997 march of Gandhi is sweeping across the city of Mumbai -- ruffling feathers in its wake. Sparing no boundaries, with language no bar, the Mahatma is being re-evaluated, re-examined.

Particularly significant in this 50th year of Independence is the fact that the Gujarati play Gandhi Viruddh Gandhi was translated in Marathi and Hindi. Now, as the year draws to a close, Gandhi Viruddh Gandhi becomes Mahatma Versus Gandhi. It's as if the story that questions the role of Mahatma Gandhi as a father to his elder son, a troubled tale of a generation gap, has to be told and re-told. So, it comes as no surprise to find that the English version is being rehearsed -- and not just rehashed -- at the Tejpal hall.

The stage is littered with pieces of cardboard, thermocol and adhesive tape as the unit members are busy transforming these mundane materials into classy background props. Meanwhile, director Feroz Khan wants the cordless mike system to be tested. Kay Kay (as he insists on being called), who plays Gandhi's son, Harilal, puts on the receiving mike. His voice booms across the empty expanse of the hall, "Who does this news refer to...," he begins.

Next the Bapu himself has a go at the mike. Naseeruddin Shah wants to know the intricate details about where the mike will be placed, who will switch it on, does he have to press any buttons... This leads to an animated discussion between Khan and the costume designer. Khan wants the mike to be placed in a special pocket stitched on the inside of the kurta. The designer points out that the unit is too heavy and the cloth too thin to bear the weight. Finally, a solution is worked out -- the pocket will be reinforced with extra lining. But after all this discussion, it comes as an anticlimax when Khan tells you that the mike is only to try out "certain effects" during the rehearsals and won't be used in the actual performance!

Next, the charkha is brought in and placed bang in the centre of the stage -- befitting its fame and stature. The rehearsal begins. It is a "dry technical" rehearsal to establish how much time each entry and exit will take, how many seconds the background music will last and who will carry out which props when the lights go out between scene changes. Shah is nowhere to be seen. Apparently he is in the backstage makeup room trying to be Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. A unit member fills in for him. The chilling commentary starts and takes you to 1948 and seconds before Bapu is assassinated. Gandhi is shown walking away from the audience, supported by two disciples. The shot resounds and Gandhi falls. Silence. The commentary starts again and this time tells you what occurred six months after his death Harilal, his eldest son, is in Sion Hospital, suffering from a sexually transmitted disease. No relatives are present. No one even knows the real identity of the patient. Soon, the son of the Father Of The Nation breathes his last -- in anonymity and ignominy.

Suddenly, Khan's voice breaks the spell. "Don't act! Just adjust the entry," he tells the unit hand filling in for Shah. Next, the play goes back to South Africa where a young and impressionable Harilal visits Gandhi at his ashram. Neena Kulkarni, playing Kasturba comes onstage, followed by Kay Kay and the supporting cast bowing down under the weight of imaginary stones. It turns out that the stones are for a road Gandhi wants to construct outside the ashram. Their entry is repeated three times before Khan has precisely worked out the timing.

The rest of the play speeds by in an whirlwind of entries, exits, music and timings. "This scene 25 seconds ... 14 seconds... no, no, no, you enter from the right ..," Khan goes on and on. Only the unit appears to fathom what is unfolding on the stage. Finally, they disperse and the actors go backstage to get ready for the real thing -- an acting rehearsal. Half an hour later, the jean-clad Neena Kulkarni has been transformed into the sari-clad Kasturba, from a smartly dressed clean shaven Kay Kay has emerged a tattered uncouth and bearded Harilal. The transformation in Gandhi and Gulab (Harilal's wife) is no less astounding.

Finally the `real' rehearsal begins. But if the technical rehearsal was an incoherent mass of scenes and jargon, the acting rehearsal turns out to be a smooth ballet of performances. Other than Khan's intermittent calls, "Lights!... Lights out!", there is nothing to tell you that an actual performance is not going on -- so enveloping is the private pain of a public figure. And though the play is in English, the anguish of the family is no less intense.

Khan is hoping that language will not be a barrier. "This is a kind of subject matter than lends itself to any language. Gandhi is an universal phenomena. He transcends everything," says Khan. Care has been taken to ensure that the script does not sound caricaturish or contrived. The dialogue is simple and in harmony with the austerity of Gandhi's life. "There are no memorable lines, but they convey the essence," says Shah. He is hoping that the powerful content will submerge the audience and carry off the play. Adds Kay Kay, "The moment an urchin says, `Good Morning', it does add sophistication and the urchin no longer remains one. So we have tried to make our dialogue flow with Indianness."

But Khan does concede that the play may not achieve the glorious peak as it did in other languages. He says , "It is like giving birth to a baby and we don't expect a normal delivery. This is more like a caesarean section."At St Andrew's Auditorium on December 27, and at Tata Theatre, NCPA on December 28, 1997.

Copyright © 1997 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.