<p>Commander Kawas Maneckshaw Nanavati must be turning in his grave. Though his life ended in 2003, the controversy surrounding his act hasn’t come to an end yet. <br /><br /></p>.<p>Earlier this week, filmmaker Anurag Kashyap admitted that a song from his upcoming film Bombay Velvet is inspired by ‘The 1959 Nanavati case’ and a few days prior to that Metrolife witnessed the play The Kambatta Case at India Habitat Centre, revolving around the same subjectWritten and directed by Feisal Alkazi, the two hour production attracted a diverse audience, predominantly from the era in which the case became immensely popular in media due to its racy content. <br /><br />The story, as known to most, is about Naval officer Nanavati who shot dead his wife’s lover Prem Ahuja with three gun shots and handed himself to the police. Considered as one of the landmark cases in the history of Indian judiciary, since it was the last to be heard in jury trial, it gained not just media but even public attention. After all, high-profile cases never miss the public eye… <br /><br />The play at hand, however, must be viewed as Alkazi’s version. He changes the real names of characters but retains their communities. Thus Nanavati becomes Lt Rumi Kambatta and the dead Prem Ahuja is referred to as Jatin Ahuja. Even the name of Nanavati’s British wife Sylvia is replaced with Rose.<br /><br />Instead of re-enacting the events that led to the murder, Alkazi chooses to provide glimpses of various perspectives of the case, through the case proceedings. The narrative therefore sets the real tone when Kambatta calls lawyer Karl Khandalawala, pleading him to take up his case. The imagery of this scene with the shadow of jail bars falling on the face of the imprisoned lieutenant lends a cinematic depth to the story. It is significant to note that the same case has previously inspired celluloid dramas such as Yeh Raaste Hain Pyar Ke (1963) and Achanak (1973). <br /><br />Although it is challenging to present the whole picture of what Alkazi visualises and creates on the stage as his production, because of its immensity, all this help in creating the Rashomon-style – contradictory interpretations of the same event by different people.<br /><br />Towards extreme left of the stage, lawyer Khandalawala’s home looks appropriately decked according to the Bombay of late 50s, while the newspaper office shown in extreme right has a vibrant green backdrop that adds to the sensationalism brewing<br />in media. <br /><br />The expanse of the stage is not astonishing for those who have witnessed Alkazi’s previous productions. But the credit for stage design must be given to Jagan Shah. <br /><br />In the centre stands the cuckolded husband, Kambatta, sometimes shown in jail and at times in his home, justifying the many years that pass by as Indian judicial system decides whether to free or not free him of the charge. <br /><br />Enacted by Ashish Dhamija, the character does garner sympathy from the audience at certain stages but his act could be viewed as being cruel too. On the contrary, it is Smita Mazumdar Rajaram as Rose who credibly peels her onion-like character and with each layer becomes more mysterious.<br /><br />There is, however, a reference to loneliness experienced by wives of navy officers, which comes to the fore in the scene where Rose breaks down in presence of Ruby Khandalawala (Radhika Alkazi), wife and aide of the lawyer Karl Khandalawala. Besides, there is the obvious leitmotif of public opinion and media perception having an influence on a case. Beyond this, Alkazi attempts to capture the essence of the changing fabric of society and the tragedy that lies behind every court case. The depiction of the same becomes so intense that a viewer can be left bewildered by the end.<br /><br /></p>
<p>Commander Kawas Maneckshaw Nanavati must be turning in his grave. Though his life ended in 2003, the controversy surrounding his act hasn’t come to an end yet. <br /><br /></p>.<p>Earlier this week, filmmaker Anurag Kashyap admitted that a song from his upcoming film Bombay Velvet is inspired by ‘The 1959 Nanavati case’ and a few days prior to that Metrolife witnessed the play The Kambatta Case at India Habitat Centre, revolving around the same subjectWritten and directed by Feisal Alkazi, the two hour production attracted a diverse audience, predominantly from the era in which the case became immensely popular in media due to its racy content. <br /><br />The story, as known to most, is about Naval officer Nanavati who shot dead his wife’s lover Prem Ahuja with three gun shots and handed himself to the police. Considered as one of the landmark cases in the history of Indian judiciary, since it was the last to be heard in jury trial, it gained not just media but even public attention. After all, high-profile cases never miss the public eye… <br /><br />The play at hand, however, must be viewed as Alkazi’s version. He changes the real names of characters but retains their communities. Thus Nanavati becomes Lt Rumi Kambatta and the dead Prem Ahuja is referred to as Jatin Ahuja. Even the name of Nanavati’s British wife Sylvia is replaced with Rose.<br /><br />Instead of re-enacting the events that led to the murder, Alkazi chooses to provide glimpses of various perspectives of the case, through the case proceedings. The narrative therefore sets the real tone when Kambatta calls lawyer Karl Khandalawala, pleading him to take up his case. The imagery of this scene with the shadow of jail bars falling on the face of the imprisoned lieutenant lends a cinematic depth to the story. It is significant to note that the same case has previously inspired celluloid dramas such as Yeh Raaste Hain Pyar Ke (1963) and Achanak (1973). <br /><br />Although it is challenging to present the whole picture of what Alkazi visualises and creates on the stage as his production, because of its immensity, all this help in creating the Rashomon-style – contradictory interpretations of the same event by different people.<br /><br />Towards extreme left of the stage, lawyer Khandalawala’s home looks appropriately decked according to the Bombay of late 50s, while the newspaper office shown in extreme right has a vibrant green backdrop that adds to the sensationalism brewing<br />in media. <br /><br />The expanse of the stage is not astonishing for those who have witnessed Alkazi’s previous productions. But the credit for stage design must be given to Jagan Shah. <br /><br />In the centre stands the cuckolded husband, Kambatta, sometimes shown in jail and at times in his home, justifying the many years that pass by as Indian judicial system decides whether to free or not free him of the charge. <br /><br />Enacted by Ashish Dhamija, the character does garner sympathy from the audience at certain stages but his act could be viewed as being cruel too. On the contrary, it is Smita Mazumdar Rajaram as Rose who credibly peels her onion-like character and with each layer becomes more mysterious.<br /><br />There is, however, a reference to loneliness experienced by wives of navy officers, which comes to the fore in the scene where Rose breaks down in presence of Ruby Khandalawala (Radhika Alkazi), wife and aide of the lawyer Karl Khandalawala. Besides, there is the obvious leitmotif of public opinion and media perception having an influence on a case. Beyond this, Alkazi attempts to capture the essence of the changing fabric of society and the tragedy that lies behind every court case. The depiction of the same becomes so intense that a viewer can be left bewildered by the end.<br /><br /></p>
