Beyond entertainment: Theatre as a journey of truth, freedom & connection

Elizabeth Gilbert in her book “BIG MAGIC” says the universe buries strange jewels within us all and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt to uncover those jewels, that’s creative living. Theatre to me is one such excavation.

A slow, deliberate unearthing of what trembles beneath the surface. Often, it lies dormant within our unconscious and theatre, as a discipline, has the power to stir it into awareness if it is granted the dignity of something that transcends the conventions of mere entertainment. The irony, however, is that theatre rarely demands what it deserves. Because it’s about “play;” as though play were trivial.

Come to think of it, there must be some substance to the fact that storytelling/drama is one of the oldest and longest surviving practices of human civilization. We’re yet to witness a time when the need for telling and listening to stories would be redundant. Art, whether we realise or not, is essential not just for survival but to live, fully. Survival is governed by fear and nothing enduring has ever been born of fear.

Theatre and all other forms of art, insist on freedom. Not the brittle freedom of entitlement but something far more expansive and democratic. The kind that is anti-war, anti-genocidal, resolutely against all that diminishes life. It breathes and asks us to be present.

Theatre is a convergence – music, movement, poetry, silence, image; all dissolving into creation.

Theatre fosters exposure and the truth is, human beings thrive when they feel seen and heard. The stage exists so we can stir perspectives and push boundaries and to offer respite to an otherwise noisy world. The stage gives harmony a chance. And the beauty of a stage is that it has range.

A larger-than-life Broadway proscenium to an intimate black-box, a university playground to an unpaved street in a remote village; or the shade of a tree that has seen beauty and brutality spanning generations; anything is your stage if you know how to use it. It’s a medium to remind us of the power of connection and connection is what we all seek.

Especially, now, with the unchecked fancies and whims of AI and at a time when we cannot tell who’s legitimate and who’s a clone. Despite it all, I believe theatre will continue to breathe because the human race is designed for connection in real time.

No machine can replicate the electricity of shared breath, shared silence, shared presence. The theatre has withstood rupture; evolving and asking us to evolve with it.

That’s how we know that the service of theatre and performing arts extends far beyond recreation. It’s a discipline. A pursuit.

One that teaches us to keep our learning and unlearning muscles flexible and our minds open. It softens the self. It is an antidote to a world often filled with violence, intolerance and destruction.

It urges us to step out of ourselves and be a conduit for something greater than us. Something truly shifts when one spends hours days and months in the rehearsal hall catering to a common vision with so many different minds. It forces us to strip ourselves off of our identities of gender, caste, creed, race and religion. It teaches us to coexist, to surrender and above all, to empathise.

This is the power of community that theatre propagates. And it has never been without consequence. Art has always stood in dangerous proximity to truth. When systems attempt to dismantle and erode human consciousness, art resists. It challenges.

Theatre also encourages us to honour the child within. It is a way of returning to the joy of playfulness; something we often tend to move farther and farther away from. The world feels as fractured as it does because so many of us have had this playfulness taken away from us. Sometimes, too soon, too abruptly.

On this day, I’d like to remind everyone that it is never too late to reclaim the joy and innocence of being a child again. One is never too old to play. In an ideal world, I’d wish for everyone to taste the privilege and magic of being on a stage. I promise it’ll assure you that it’s okay to not know, to make

mistakes, to fall, and show you that repetition is intrinsic to existence and that, boredom can lead to wonder. The stage, the theatre will receive you with all your idiosyncrasies and accept your imperfections. It’ll loosen the grip of ego and rigidity.

Finally, I extend my deepest gratitude to the teachers, mentors, the keepers of space and fellow practitioners who continue to nurture this fragile fierce art. In a world obsessed with scale and certainty, it takes deep love and reverence to relentlessly give to a craft even when the craft doesn’t always promise equivalent returns.

Long live theatre. Long live the arts.

By Dorin

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication.