PLAY HOUSE TO PILA HAUS

There are two kinds of cab drivers in Mumbai town. One reacts with a semi-smirk when a man calls out "Pila Haus" as desired destination. The other, more decent, kind nods with a slight but visible stiffening of the neck. The name Pila Haus is a colloquial distortion of 'play house' which was what the British dubbed this area bordering Kamathipura because of the various theatres flourishing there. Today swallowed into the one of the world's most famous red light areas, these theatres have either been demolished, or converted into cinema halls. Gulshan Theatre, for instance, was converted and re-baptized from the hugely popular and historic Bombay Theatre in 1972. Here's its memory lane tour, with our feet firmly in the present.



"Actors, dancers, singers and musicians from abroad, London especially, used to perform in these theatres for Europeans," theatre director and producer Sam Kerawaala remembers of the theatres in Pila Haus. "It was a posh area then." One written account talks of a Bombay Theatre being set up in 1750 (one of Mumbai's first) for British clerks and army officers, with entry restricted to Europeans only. But we don't know if this Bombay Theatre in Pila Haus is the same one.



Phool Aur Kaante is playing for all four shows at Gulshan Talkies to almost full houses. The morning 10 o'clock slot however, is reserved for a film genre locally referred to as 'sexy film', read: B grade semi porn. Currently showing is Swinging Sexy. Coming up is one in hindi: Bindaas Ladki. Inside a hall the roof of which looks as if it's waiting to collapse, Ajay Devgan – today's minimalism maestro – crashes across the room to hit wall, rebound with three flying kicks, and ultimately use his boot to stall a goon's knife mid air as it approaches Madhu's throat. The 13 rupee ticket buying all male crowd – dressed in a mix of lungis and faded, torn trousers – roars at this 1991 stunt as if it was invented yesterday. Away from its history, Gulshan Talkies is stuck in a time warp of its own.



"I remember watching Parsi Gujarati plays in Bombay Theatre when I was a child," 74 year old Pervez Dara Mehta, whose spent 55 years of his life as "theatre actor, director or producer" recollects of Parsi theatre groups which dominated the Bombay theatre scene between the late 18 and early 1900s. "Some plays would begin at 10 pm and go on till two in the morning –with upto six 'oncores'." He tells us of a popular Parsi theatre genre called "seria-comic", which encapsulated extremes of tragedy (seriousness), comedy and the in-between in a four hour production.



The collapsible entrance gates to Gulshan theatre are shut during intervals for crowd control. Sherbet, Anda Paw and Chewda vendors declare their wares through these gates. Sherbet is Rs 2. Two Anda Paws or Chewda packets are for Rs 5. Even inside, one packet of popcorn costs Rs 3. But this is expected. For the tickets themselves cost Rs 13 for stalls and Rs 15 for balcony. Inflation somehow missed this place. Like the sex workers, charas vendors and slot machines down the road which supposedly provide the cheapest rates in the city, the cinema halls comply with this once "posh" area's current brand equity.



"Bombay Theatre was a prized performance space for Tamashas," says Madhukar Nirale, owner of what was the famed Hanuman Theatre. "Maybe it was because of the quality of the hall – cushioned seating and many fans…" Nirale, who's still actively involved in promoting arts like the Tamasha, maintains that the popularity of these performances in the area came about in the 1930s to blossom post independence: "It was probably because of the markets in adjoining areas. Tamashas, with their religious themes and local flavour, was something the working class wanted."



Shouts of protest emerge from the audience's lips in the 725 seater as the movie cuts a scene abruptly during reel change. The projection comes with white scratch lines running over Ajay Devgan and Amrish Puri's faces during intense scenes. 46 year old Fahad Mohammed is watching this film for the 20 th time. He loves the fact that it reolves around a father-son relationship. But he isn't the only one who's seen the film before. "The fact that I can watch this film on big screen as easily as I could have seen it on TV feels good," say 23 year old Khalid who came in a year ago from Bangladesh. As the audience disperses, the usher swears at a viewer who' drunk so much before he entered that he's fallen asleep and refuses to budge. He's then unceremoniously dragged out by hair and limb and thrown on the street. He still refuses to budge.