Drunken dramas under the banyan tree

When actors are in high spirits, unexpected twists in the script are guaranteed.

Most villages in India are familiar with Bayalu Nataka (literally, field drama). This form of traditional entertainment usually began around 1 am and wrapped up by 4 am and was performed outdoors, often under a banyan tree, during village festivals. The themes were invariably drawn from the Mahabharata, and the actors — hailing from various labouring classes—put on quite a show. Men played all roles, both male and female. Adding to the charm (or chaos), the actors were typically heavily drunk.

In one performance, the scene depicted Bhima in disguise as a woman, luring and ultimately killing the rakshasa Kichakasura. The characters were painted with heavy makeup, with villains distinguished by their cooling glasses—a shorthand for evil, as sunglasses were considered a mark of dubious character in those days.

In the story, Kichakasura demands Draupadi meet him at a specified time and place. Bhima, disguised as a woman, takes her place to execute his plan. This drama was scheduled to be performed over two consecutive days.

On the first day, the actors portraying Bhima and Kichakasura—close friends in real life—delivered a crowd-pleasing performance. Their wives, sitting together in the audience, watched until the climactic scene, where Bhima triumphantly killed Kichakasura. The crowd showered Bhima’s actor with praise, much to the chagrin of Kichakasura’s wife.

Back home, she fumed, telling her husband, “You’re stronger than the man playing Bhima. Tomorrow, I want you to defeat him!”

The next day, during the climactic scene, both actors, predictably drunk, took to the stage. But instead of following the script, Kichakasura, egged on by his wife’s instructions, overpowered Bhima and began hitting him.

Bhima protested, “I’m Bhima! I’m supposed to beat you!”

To which the rakshasa replied, “Bhima or Bhima’s father, I don’t care. Today, I have to defeat you!”

The crowd was in splits, cheering this unintentional plot twist.

In another performance, the scene portrayed the disrobing of Draupadi by Dushasana. For dramatic effect, seven colourful saris were tied together, with Krishna instructed to step in when the last green sari appeared. But things took a comedic turn. All the actors, including Draupadi (played by a man), Krishna, and Dushasana, were drunk. Krishna decided to smoke a beedi backstage, deciding he’d only enter after finishing his smoke.

On stage, Dushasana began pulling off the saris, one after the other, while Krishna was still puffing on his beedi. Meanwhile, the intoxicated Dushasana kept pulling until Draupadi was left standing in undergarments—a long kachha and a white vest, complete with falsies. The audience erupted into laughter.

When Krishna finally sauntered in after his beedi break, Draupadi glared at him and exclaimed, “Oh Krishna, have you come now to pull my underwear too?”
Bayalu Nataka thus offered entertainment that’s as unpredictable as it is unforgettable. For those lucky enough to witness it, the laughter echoes long after the curtains—or saris—fall.