HT City Delhi Junction: Catch It Live on 16 June 2025
Where: Abhimanch Auditorium, National School of Drama (NSD), Bahawalpur House, Bhagwandas Road, Mandi House
When: June 14 to 17
Timing: 7pm
Entry: Free
Nearest Metro Station: Mandi House (Blue & Violet Lines)
What: Crossword Book Fair
Where: Central Atrium, Select CityWalk, Saket
When: June 16 to 30
Timing: 11am to 10pm
Entry: Free
Nearest Metro Station: Malviya Nagar (Yellow Line)
#TuneIn
What: Bollywood Night ft Harish
Where: The Terrace, Plot-01, Sector-5, Vaishali, Ghaziabad
When: June 16
Timing: 8pm
Entry: www.bookmyshow.com
Nearest Metro Station: Vaishali (Blue Line)
What: Book Discussion Group | Through the India-China Border: Kalimpong in the Himalayas
Where: Conference Room II, India International Centre, 40, Max Mueller Marg, Lodhi Estate
When: June 16
Timing: 6pm
Entry: Free
Nearest Metro Station: Jor Bagh (Yellow Line)
What: Daily Ka Kaam Hai ft Aakash Gupta
Where: The Laugh Store, CyberHub, DLF Phase II, Sector 24, Gurugram
When: June 16
Timing: 7pm
Entry: www.bookmyshow.com
Nearest Metro Station: Cyber City (Rapid Metro)
What: Special Handloom Expo
Where: Handloom Haat, 76, Atul Grove Road, Janpath, Connaught Place (CP)
When: June 13 to 21
Timing: 11am to 8pm
Entry: Free
Nearest Metro Station: Janpath (Violet Line)
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Indian Express
17 hours ago
- Indian Express
‘We fight over content and direction styles, it's a true partnership:' Rasika Agashe on collaborating with husband Zeeshan Ayyub, theatre, and life behind the scenes
'Theatre is my first love… Every new play resets me. It humbles me. It makes me more human,' Rasika Agashe, known for championing contemporary writing and mentoring young artists through her platform, Sanhita Manch, told An alumna of the National School of Drama (NSD), with nearly two decades of experience across theatre, television, and film, Agashe has built a reputation as one of India's most committed theatre voices. Her husband, actor Zeeshan Ayyub, on the contrary, has been more proactive and built a prominent career in Bollywood. 'It's actually a reverse journey,' she says, about that. In a candid conversation, she reflects on navigating a world increasingly shaped by OTT platforms, her grounding post-rehearsal rituals, and why—if she had to script it—her journey in theatre would be a sharp, dark comedy. Edited excerpts below: Q: Was there a turning point or challenge that made you rethink your path as a theatre artist? How did you bounce back? Rasika Agashe: Honestly, there was never. I've wanted to act since childhood. Yes, as I matured, I did shift my dreams from wanting to be Madhuri Dixit to Shabana Azmi. Luckily, the right people—like Atul Kulkarni—noticed me during college theatre days and pushed me towards NSD. My journey's been pretty clean. If I had to sum it up in one word, I'd say 'eye-opening'. Q: With audiences gravitating towards OTT, how do you craft narratives that draw people back to live theatre? Rasika Agashe: This concern isn't new—it came up when cinema began, when TV arrived, and now with OTT. Theatre is timeless; it's the only live medium. People who crave that raw, real connection will always come back. The decline in audience, I feel, is more economic than artistic. In places like Maharashtra or Gujarat, people still flock to plays. Theatre and OTT are just different art forms, comparing the two is like comparing a painting to a CGI image. Q: What's one daring experiment or change you'd love to see on Indian stages soon? Rasika Agashe: New content. For a while, Indian theatre was stuck doing the same old classics. At Sanhita Manch, we're working to bring fresh writing on stage, scripts that reflect our current times. Theatre must evolve with society. Q: While your husband Zeeshan has found his stride in Bollywood, you've remained devoted to theatre. What anchors you to it, even with the glamour of cinema? Rasika Agashe: Theatre is my first love. Films are glamorous and pay more—so yes, when I run out of money, I turn to film or TV work. Recently I've started exploring film direction, which excites me. But theatre is pure. Every new play resets me. It humbles me. It makes me more human. Q: How do you and Zeeshan blend your unique experiences while collaborating on Sanhita Manch? Rasika Agashe: Zeeshan is our producer—he funds our festivals, which allows me to take creative risks. But he's more than that. He joins rehearsals when free, and helps with actor training. We fight over content and direction styles—it's a true partnership. He says the energy in theatre fuels him when he returns to films. Q: If you were to direct Zeeshan in a play, what's one skill or nuance you'd most love to see him develop further for the stage? Rasika Agashe: He's a brilliant actor—I'd love to direct him in any role. It's not just about being his wife; I truly admire his craft. Hopefully, he'll come back on stage this year. Q: During hectic rehearsal days, do you have a favorite ritual or guilty pleasure that recharges you? Rasika Agashe: Coffee. After late-night rehearsals, Zeeshan and I unwind over coffee, discussing what worked, what didn't, and possible fixes. It's our little reset button. Q: If you had to capture your theatre journey as a play, what genre would it be, and what playful or dramatic title would you give it? A post shared by Being Association (@beingassociation) Rasika Agashe: A dark comedy, for sure. Life is bizarre, and theatre reflects that beautifully. I think the play I'm currently directing says it all—All That Matters. It doesn't preach, it helps us laugh at the strange world we live. The Sanhita Manch 2025 theatre festival runs from August 1-3. Cherry Gupta is an Assistant Manager – Content at The Indian Express. She leads the Top 10 section, curating list-based features on key national and international developments, and manages daily news content. She also produces SEO-driven articles and collaborates with the Lifestyle team to conduct interviews with notable artists and write workplace culture features. ... Read More
News18
a day ago
- News18
‘The One-Way Ships': More Than Just A Tale Of Survival
Uma Lohray's debut novel, 'The One‑Way Ships', looks at the baby ayahs — a forgotten chapter in India's colonial past 'It's like a story…you don't always get to control what happens, but you can persevere through what others may see as a tragic ending. Eventually, if you keep going, the story turns happy again." It is this spirit of resilience and optimism that permeates Uma Lohray's debut novel, The One‑Way Ships. A story that looks at the baby ayahs — a forgotten chapter in India's colonial past. Once an integral part of the colonial British households, these ladies, mere servants, were used, neglected and abandoned in foreign lands — with no money, no home and simply nowhere to go — once they had served their purpose. The One-Way Ships is a tale of survival as it narrates the tale of Asha, one such ayah who finds herself stranded in England, homeless, friendless and destitute. Her story begins in Simla, the summer capital of pre-Independence India, sometime in the second decade of the twentieth century. At the height of British colonial rule, this was a time when Indians were second-class citizens in their own land. Orphaned at the age of fourteen, Asha finds herself destitute and coming to terms with harsh realities of life. Self-respecting and as someone who doesn't wallow in self-pity, she soon starts looking for a job in Simla, knocking on any and every door. She soon finds a job of an ayah and a caretaker in a British home, where her job was to be the servant to take care of the children — bathing, feeding and playing with them. Taking her changed circumstances in her stride, she also learns new skills — she learns to speak, read and write the English language. The turning point in her life comes when she gets an opportunity two years later to travel with an English lady as an ayah. She takes it, upon the promise of being given a return ticket. A promise that turns out to be false. Imagine finding yourself duped and tricked and left abandoned in a country that isn't your own. That is what happens to Asha. And this is where the character shines. Unwilling to give up, she finds herself starting from scratch and rebuilding her life. In terms of the plot, The One-Way Ships is a simple story — it is Asha's tale of survival, her growth from a protected young girl into a resilient woman who doesn't lose her empathy, despite her circumstances. It is a novel with a lot of characters and souls. Asha may be fictional but this powerful novel is a tribute to many such Ashas, bringing to light thousands of such women whose stories have been overlooked and forgotten. Harini Srinivasan Get breaking news, in-depth analysis, and expert perspectives on everything from politics to crime and society. Stay informed with the latest India news only on News18. Download the News18 App to stay updated! view comments Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.
The Wire
4 days ago
- The Wire
The Theatre of Ratan Thiyam: Profound Beauty on the Modern Stage
I remember Ratan Thiyam, almost always dressed in black, performing an elaborate curtain call along with his actors at the end of his show. Together they would all go down on their knees and touch their foreheads to the stageboards so as to thank the audience for coming to the performance. The grace of this gesture in some sense encoded the essence of Ratan's theatre work – its formal rigour and its elegance as it walked the fine line between performance and secular ritual for, and of, the modern stage. One the most celebrated theatre makers of India, Ratan Thiyam, who passed on July 23, 2025, in Imphal at the age of 77, was in command of many roles at one and the same time throughout his life. He was a theatre director of brilliance, but was also a writer and a poet, a theatre teacher, a guru, a distinguished organiser and a leader – heading institutions like the National School of Drama as its Director (1987–88) and as its Chairperson (2013–17), while creatively shaping the artistic style of the renowned Chorus Repertory Company that has performed across India and the world to great acclaim for more than four decades. However, let me begin this tribute to Ratan by taking a step sideways. It is said that there is a philosophical connection between landscape artists, horticulturalists and theatre makers. All of them understand the effects of a slant of light, the depth of shadow, grades of colour, chiaroscuro, and the inter-relationships, by placement, between nature, humans and objects. I had the occasion several years ago to visit the Chorus Repertory Company, located at the edges of Imphal city, and I vividly remember the nearly three-acre site: the neatly trimmed hedges, the small pond, the clusters of trees with blossoming vines wrapped around their trunks, the flower beds, the vegetable patch, and the gravelly pathways connecting one part to another. The vegetables harvested from the fields fed everyone who lived on site including Ratan. He lovingly introduced the garden, the water body and the plants, many of which he had planted himself. Also read: Ratan Thiyam, the Risks He Took and the Future of Indian Theatre Working the land was a part of the daily routine set up several decades before the connections between agricultural activity and theatre practice had come into focus, as they have done now. Apart from this there was, and still is, another routine in place – of practising movement, breath, vocalisation, song and music derived from the vocabularies of Manipuri dance traditions, martial arts and ritual practices. This training happened in a cluster of buildings set amidst the landscape, that included an exhibition space, a rehearsal space, and a blackbox theatre equipped with light and sound systems. Away from the noise of the city, the Chorus Repertory as imagined by Ratan functions as a sort of ashram, where skill is transferred to the shishya – student – on a daily and continual basis, a mode of transmission different from the segmented time-tables of 'modern' theatre training institutes. But back to the theatre maker and the horticulturalist, and their understanding of atmosphere – which is objective and subjective, material and non-material, at the same time; something that you can breathe in and recognise it to be joy or peace or melancholy for instance, but not know what it is that you have drawn into your lungs. Ratan's use of light and shadow in theatre is unparalleled. He was able to create degrees of darkness on the stage – experienced as sometimes dense and sometimes diffuse with a precision that requires an exact understanding of the properties of lighting apparatus. At one moment the lights dimmed so low that you might see nothing but the glint of sequins on the potloi (the structured skirt worn by Manipuri dancers) as a group of performers glide across the stage; at another moment you might see a slash of light illuminate fingers wrists and upper arms flickering against the cyclorama – leaves, insects or distress signals from a drowning chorus? From the dark upstage you might see a tall, white fabric umbrella, held firmly by an actor, float downstage, to form a halo ─ marking a passage to the heavens? The tumultuous clang and flash of hand-held gongs deafen and blind the spectators as the chakravyuh gains the velocity of a tornado in a circle of red beams. And who can forget the often-cited image of an elephant materialising on stage as if in a dream, in his memorable production of Agyeya's Uttarapriyadarshi! These are stage effects that cause the heart to pound. Almost nobody understood the magic of the image in theatre better than Ratan Thiyam. And almost nobody used the proscenium arch theatre, also known as the picture-frame stage, better than him. The picture-frame stage, brought to India by the British to house their theatricals, has given rise to much debate. The proscenium, as we know, is the architectural frame that edges the opening of the stage. The major experiential convention it produces is a play of dark and light; the stage being illumined while the audience is in darkness is as much an emotional experience as it is material. What effect does such architectural framing have on traditional forms and their grammars? How does it change our viewing habits and our expectations? Ratan Thiyam's work, performed primarily in the proscenium, disturbs assumptions and generates a contradiction. Even when he remodelled traditional grammars, and reshaped gestures drawn from Manipuri martial arts and dance forms so as to align them with the enclosing edges of the frame, Ratan produced performances that have often been understood as, or even become synonymous with, Indian theatre. A description that we must inflect, gloss and interrogate by keeping his remodelling, his refashioning of form stance and music in mind. Ratan Thiyam's luminous stage work exceeds description; what stays in our memory is his love for the craft of theatre, and the beauty it can produce. It reminds us that meaning-making in theatre is not by word alone but by all the elements that make up the performance – from minutiae such as glinting sequins and flying tassels on costume, to the voluminosity of shadowed tableaus and grand battles choreographed to thunderous percussion that judder the very foundations of the auditorium. Our homage to Ratan Thiyam: the person who ignited the spell of material fiction that is theatre; the one whose aesthetic and pedagogical imagination enhanced the discourse of modern Indian theatre.
