Totakahini at Spardha Atelier: Children bring Rabindranath’s satire to life with wit and warmth
As the drums roared, the lights rolled, and the child-artists began to sing animatedly, the audience couldn't help but be mesmerised by the incredible mise en scène of the play.
With the musical instruments and the singers placed right beside and seated among them, the intimate setting made the audience feel as though they were part of the performance; they were not just spectators, but inhabitants of the very kingdom the play sought to portray.
Written by Rabindranath Thakur and brought to life by Shahnaz Parvin Jonaki, Totakahini—a story of a lively bird captured by the king with a mission to 'civilise' it—is a critique of rigid and superficial systems of education and governance, expertly interwoven through metaphor.
The play was staged in Spardha Atelier in Gulshan on 29 November.
The story follows a bird, a 'foolish' bird, that does not know how to read, a bird that is unlearned. It does not read scriptures, nor does it behave in a cultured manner. It is a wild bird that disrupts the palace's fruit market by consuming a great deal of fruit from the forest. It acts instinctively rather than deliberately.
Thus, the king summons his ministers and assigns them a mission: to civilise the bird and transform it into a disciplined and cultured creature. The absurdity of bureaucracy begins.
The responsibility falls upon the king's nieces, who consult with the court scholars. After much deliberation, the scholars conclude that the cause of the bird's ignorance is its primitive way of life, specifically, its poorly constructed nest. The bird must be provided with a better place to live: a cage, a meticulously designed cage suitable for learning.
The cage is the first and the most obvious metaphor in the story, representing the artificial structures society builds to enforce discipline, irrespective of natural inclinations or needs.
Once the cage is ready, the nieces order the writers to produce texts, carefully crafted and copied from scriptures. This emphasis on a mechanical approach to education exposes the absurdity of ritualistic learning.
However, as all attention is focused on civilising the bird, no one pays any attention to its actual welfare. The bird is a part of the natural order; the bird needs freedom.
The king, intrigued by the report of the bird's progress, calls for a ceremonial display. Coaches are blown, and drums and other musical instruments roar. Impressed at first, as the play progresses, the king notices that amid the commotion, the actual cause of celebration—the bird—has been largely ignored.
The satire becomes more evident in the play's tone as the narrative progresses. Extreme measures are taken to discipline the bird. Its wings are clipped—stripping away its identity. All its natural behaviours are suppressed by the court.
Even if you are not familiar with this Tagore classic, you can guess what happens next. The inevitable, of course.
The audience witnesses all of this, intimately. All the actors are children, and they deliver an incredible performance. Their overdramatic facial expressions and movements match perfectly with the play's satiric tone.
Although the young performers stuttered or forgot a line here and there, they recovered swiftly and the audience responded with warmth. Their energy, sincerity, and enthusiasm ensured that the performance remained engaging throughout.
The fusion of live music makes the act more vivid. The musical instruments and singers, scattered among the audience, make the attendees believe they themselves are a part of the play's setting.
The lighting shifts between the acts, successfully translating the changes in the bird's tone and emotion. The light shifts between green, blue, and red, portraying the bird's joy, melancholy, longing, and fear through colours.
In the end, the play leaves the audience with a gentle but lingering reflection: that true growth cannot be forced, and that any attempt to shape a being — or a society — must begin with understanding.
