The new storytellers | In On The Act

Recently, one of Nepal's most skilled theatre professionals told me that there just aren't enough Nepali playwrights. This came on the heels of a little controversy, when author Govinda Bartaman wrote a piece in a daily newspaper questioning the relevance of the Ibsen Festival in Nepal. A few days later, author and professor Abhi Subedi explained this in similar terms.

Shakespeare, Ibsen, Euripides, Sophocles, Bala Krishna Sama, Vijay Malla, and Govinda Gothale are all timeless, universal, or pioneering. Through their work we think about everything from the Oedipus complex, to feminism, to love and death.

But, and I say this with the utmost respect for all these greats: while they all depict the school of life, they each do it in terms of their specific culture, time, and milieu.

What about us? We live in the age of digital democracy, globalisation, global warming, sex, drugs, AIDS, consumerism, and all the rest of it. Who is talking about specific factors that make our lives what they are? Just look at Nepal, its civil war and modernisation, and its place in the world. Life is more demanding, and possibilities seem to be shrinking. We're bound by our nation and our culture. Where is our life? Who is writing about our condition, whatever it might be.

We all have our story. I have mine. I've been involved with a guy in England for six years. We've met just once. Over the years, our connection has only gotten stronger—through internet chatting, web camera, email, that's it. We swear, talk about sex, and fantasise through this 'artificial' medium. One day I told my story through my play Virtual Reality. People were shocked to hear swear words and explicit talk about sexy mamas and being Slippery When Wet, but that's the reality of chatrooms. In Mysore, India, where we performed recently, we were not criticised, but congratulated for taking risks to deal with cyberculture.

Our story will never be told by academics or believers in conventional theatre. They know too much about grammar and about dos and don'ts. At a recent event in Gurukul, a star theatre artist from Mugu was portraying the life of street children. In doing so, the artiste spoke language which contained swear words. It wasn't over the top or done to create controversy, it was there, as it is in life. An old school critic objected, saying that in the theatre, one must speak the 'language of the theatre'. Now we get to see whether there is a real or artificial scarcity of Nepali playwrights. The audience decides the 'language of theatre', not writers and directors. If the ego of the old school can get out of the way, we can be playwrights too.

Every time I go to Himalayan Java, I meet Abhi Subedi. I am waiting for this playwright, who wrote Maya Deviko Sapana in this very café, to write about a person who sits with one cup of coffee for two hours because, though he cannot afford another cup, he can't tear himself away either. I am waiting for Sonu Bhakta to write about the paradox of someone who owns a Nokia N-series mobile, but instead of ringing and talking to people, gives them missed calls.

I cannot write the story of my father and my children, only narrate them. The only story I can write is my own.