Jayant Kripalani and Srijit Mukherji star in Kaushik Sen's theatrical reimagination
Karl Marx landed in Kolkata—not in body, but in a fiery spirit that firmly rejects being called a Marxist—in
Marx in Soho
, a sharp, thought-provoking adaptation of Howard Zinn's play.
Reimagined by Kaushik Sen to reflect the city's evolving political landscape, the production is more than a revival; it's a reawakening of discourse, identity, and dissent.
Sen expands the original monologue-based structure into an ensemble piece, introducing new characters and interwoven sociopolitical narratives. The dialogues are punchy, and the cast—energetic, acrobatic, and committed—drives the momentum.
At the core is Marx's life with Jenny in Soho, filtered through fractured memories as he contends with the collapse of communism and the rise of capitalism—especially Kolkata's own shifting ideologies.
Jayant Kripalani as Karl Marx
Veteran thespian Jayant Kripalani plays Marx with weathered elegance and infectious vitality. He holds the audience with warmth, wit, and unflinching presence. Opposite him, filmmaker-actor Srijit Mukherji steps into the role of Lucifer with a goat-mask, a relaxed posture, and a devilish charisma.
Post-interval, his presence upends the mood, provoking Marx—and the audience—into deeper introspection.
Their crackling interplay mirrors Kolkata's contradictions: its radical history versus its neoliberal now.
Performed for just two shows at GD Birla Sabhaghar, the production is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Shyamal Sen—Kaushik Sen's father—a towering figure in both theatre and critical thought. Sen's version of Lucifer, inspired by Goethe's
Faust
and Marx's
Das Kapital
, becomes a symbol of ideological tension. To him, this isn't just theatre—it's a provocation. A plea for collective hope. A moment where even Lucifer hesitates.
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The Wire
5 hours ago
- The Wire
When Marx Returned to Kolkata
Marxian dialectics require two contradictory social or economic phenomena that influence each other. This leads to their development and negation, but that is not the end. The negation creates a new situation that develops and needs negation again. And so it goes on through time. It is quite satisfying, therefore, in a dialectical way, to witness Karl Marx land in contemporary Kolkata in Swapnasandhani's latest play, Marx in Kolkata. Persistent rumours about his death have compelled the founding father of communism to make a comeback. Kolkata is a coincidence, but that his reputation is also at stake in the capital of the Indian state that was ruled by a democratically elected communist party for 34 years is telling. It is a little sad to see a man of Marx's stature trying to prove that he is alive. Self-justification, however, can also be the opportunity of self-searching, and in Kolkata – formerly Calcutta – Marx launches himself into deep introspection as he walks into that perfect example of the new world order: a food court. Here at this site of mass consumption (in more than one sense), where workers are treated as modern-day slaves, Marx begins to talk about himself and his life. Jayant Kripalani as Marx and Srijit Mukherji as Mephistopheles in ''Marx in Kolkata'. Photo: Sandip Kumar Marx in Kolkata is inspired by American historian Howard Zinn's 1999 play, Marx in Soho, which had Marx landing in Soho in contemporary New York instead of the locality in London. Swapnasandhani's play is directed and adapted by Koushik Sen, who keeps it primarily in English, but also uses Bengali and Hindi. Marx speaks especially of his life at his home in Soho, a London neighbourhood, where the German materialist philosopher had eventually taken refuge after being forced to leave his homeland for his radical journalism. In his Soho home, Marx wrote much of Das Kapital in the 1850s. Marx recounts how he wrote, despite everything, in the small Dean Street house in London, surrounded by garbage and squalor outside and crushed by poverty. He was intensely wary of what would happen to his legacy: he was not a Marxist, he asserts, unlike those who would use his ideas for power and profit. Marx and his wife Jenny von Westphalen, a theatre critic and an extraordinary person, saw the death of three of their children in their Soho home. Jenny kept making frequent trips to the pawn shop. Yet their home, with the three daughters who had survived, was full of laughter and joy because love and the hope for a better world held it together, as did Jenny's hard work. Class struggle may be the first contradiction in the Marxian scheme of things, but his writings were possible because of Jenny's labours at home. The admission makes the play a feminist critique of Marx's works. Sen makes two significant departures from the original in his adaptation. In Zinn's play, Marx is the only character. In Sen's adaptation Marx, played by Jayant Kripalani, gets a supporting cast: Jenny, Marx's and Jenny's remarkable precocious daughter Eleanor, a brutal manager and groups of actors, at the food court or at a meeting. Jayant Kripalani as Marx and Srijit Mukherji as Mephistopheles in ''Marx in Kolkata'. Photo: Sandip Kumar The second departure is spectacular. To the ironic echoes of the opening lines of The Communist Manifesto that Marx had written with Friedrich Engels before Das Kapital: 'A spectre is haunting Europe – the spectre of communism', what could have been a trap door opens at the end of the first half of the play, and through the door rises Mephistopheles himself, replete with a wanton creature wriggling at his feet. Two of god's greatest adversaries are meeting in Kolkata. History and myth confront each other. But which is which? Mephisto, represented in literature and art memorably through the ages, is played in Marx in Kolkata by Srijit Mukherji, the film director, and looks more real than ever. He rules the world with money and power. His tools are death and destruction. Mephisto is late capitalism and neo-Fascism, grotesque and lurid, funny and seductive, and looks very, very familiar. With Marx, Mephisto is up to his old trick. He tries to get Marx to sign a contact to sell his soul. What follows is interesting. Dialectics have infinite possibilities. Marx in Kolkata, which has held two shows so far in the city to an enthusiastic response, raises the very relevant question about Marx's absence, or presence, now. Kripalani, as Marx, carries the weight of the play robustly on his shoulders. The veteran actor brings to life an icon, with humour and sensitivity. His portrayal has Marx looking at a world that has displaced him with a vulnerability that is moving. It is quite evident, though, that Marx is still full of life. I am dead and I am not, Marx reminds. That's dialectics for you. Mukherji, who was a stage actor before he became a well-known film director, is the perfect counterpoint as Mephisto to Kripalani. Mukherji's Mephisto is flamboyant, flashy, amusing, trippy, younger and blood-thirsty. Mephisto is now Mammon on steroids, and Mukherji, as this sweet-talking shape-shifting monster, holds the attention of both Marx and the audience steadily. Ditipriya Sarkar as Jenny and Shaili Bhattacharjee as Eleanor are competent. Mrinmoy Chakraborty is well cast as a nasty, screaming manager. Marx in Kolkata is a romp asking a serious question. It is good to see such a burst of energy on the Kolkata stage. The play moves at a good pace, is spectacular and uses lots of movement and more than one language, which may help it to connect with younger audiences. The music, sound and sets add to the liveliness. Special mention must be made of the use of G.D. Birla Sabhaghar, including the use of the revolving stage and the entrance from below. One wonders, though, if it was necessary for Mephisto to travel across space and time and meet Marx, that too in Kolkata. 'But who other than Marx?' asks Mukherji in an off-stage interview. Capitalism and its cronies would like to finish Marx off for ever. What if, however, instead of entering the grand design of Mephistophelian myth and overarching themes, Marx had walked out from the food court into a Kolkata street and looked around? How about finding out some facts about the city? What would he have to say about the ratio of his own statues to the number of cafés in Kolkata now? What is the number of seats that the communist party named after him, which had ruled Bengal, won in the last Lok Sabha elections? What is the percentage increase in the number of temples constructed under large trees in streets in the last five years? If religion is the opium of the masses, what about the classes? A spectre is haunting Bengal, and it is not of communism. Maybe Marx could have taken a closer look? God lies in the detail, goes the idiom. The devil lies in the detail, is its other version. Chandrima S. Bhattacharya lives in Kolkata.
Time of India
3 days ago
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The Weekly Vine Edition 47: Trump's Parade, Beckham's Cross, and the Death That Didn't Matter
Nirmalya Dutta's political and economic views vacillate from woke Leninist to Rand-Marxist to Keynesian-Friedmanite. He doesn't know what any of those terms mean. Hello and welcome to another issue of the Weekly Vine. This week, we take stock of Trump's boring parade, explain why brown lives matter a little less, explore the fear illusion, remember David Beckham the footballer, and reflect on borders and immigration. A Big, Beautiful, and Boring Parade When I was an insouciant kid in boarding school, I was deemed Kachra Party (KP) and exiled to the rafters during annual parades (on Independence and Republic Day) for not being able to stay in line or flail my legs in unison like my peers. Unlike the other exiled community that shares the same initials, I had no qualms about said exile. Now imagine my joy when, nearly two decades later, I saw an entire contingent march with the same disinterred gusto. 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Now, when 42-year-old Gaurav Kundi, an Indian-origin father of two, died of catastrophic brain damage after allegedly being pinned down by police in Australia, there's hardly a murmur—let alone a montage of global solidarity. Conflicting reports suggest he was intoxicated and arguing with his wife, which the police mistook for domestic violence. None of that changes the fact that a man lost his life following an altercation with law enforcement. And yet, the silence—even from the Indian press—is deafening. Perhaps it's because brown deaths don't move moral compasses. Gaurav simply doesn't evoke the same emotions as George. While that's understandable on some levels—given America's long and brutal history with race, and its compulsive need to overcorrect for its original sin—there's a deeper reason: brown lives simply don't offer the political payoff or financial traction required to fuel a global moral crusade. It's the same reason Western media outlets have no qualms referring to terrorists who murder Hindu pilgrims as 'gunmen', but would never dream of using such euphemisms if the same act occurred in Paris, London, or New York. Moral outrage, like everything else in this post-liberal order, is market-driven. And Gaurav Kundi's death, tragically, just doesn't sell. Sir David Beckham 'Beckham, into Sheringham… and Solskjaer has won it!''Manchester United have reached the promised land.' The corner came in like a hymn. Beckham's delivery—whipped, precise, inevitable—was scripture in motion. In the annals of football, there are players who pass, players who dribble, players who score. But there was no one who could bend it like Beckham. Or to paraphrase Leonard Cohen: David had a secret chord that pleased the United fans of the current vintage, it's hard to forget how good Beckham and his mates were and how terrifying it was for opposing teams when they played together. Because at that moment we were all in a Gurinder Chadha film, hoping to bend it like Beckham and if we couldn't copy his mohawk hairstyle, much to the chagrin of mothers and teachers. You had Ryan Giggs running like a cocker spaniel chasing a silver piece of paper. You had Roy Keane looking at you menacingly as he covered every blade of grass. You had Paul Scholes hitting the ball with such power that it took Sir Alex Ferguson's breath away. And you had David Beckham pinging crosses and passes with such accuracy that it seemed barely human. It's easy to forget now, with the beard oils and whisky launches, the sarongs and showmanship, that before he became a brand, Beckham was a baller. And not just a decent one. A magnificent one. Read more. Post-Script by Prasad Sanyal: The Border Isn't Where You Think It Is There's an old video of Milton Friedman doing the rounds on Instagram. Sepia-toned, clipped, and inconveniently intelligent, it shows the economist calmly explaining why immigration worked better before 1914—largely because there was no welfare system. Immigrants came to work, not to collect benefits. And in that measured, almost surgical voice, Friedman drops the line that still makes policy wonks twitch: 'You can't have free immigration and a welfare state.' Read more. Facebook Twitter Linkedin Email Disclaimer Views expressed above are the author's own.
Time of India
4 days ago
- Time of India
‘I don't mean to sound naughty, but I fell in love with myself while playing Hamlet': Jayant Kripalani
From powerful stage performances to acclaimed TV shows like Khandaan, Jayant Kripalani has been a towering presence in Indian theatre and television. A veteran of over four decades, his work reflects a deep commitment to the craft of acting and storytelling. Though he has appeared in several popular films and helmed TV shows, it's the stage that remains closest to his heart, where his love for character-building and the dramatic arts truly comes alive. After a quiet phase post-2019, his return to the stage came through a serendipitous collaboration with Kolkata-based director-actor Kaushik Sen with Marx in Kolkata. In Howard Zinn's Marx in Soho, reimagined for a contemporary Kolkata audience, Kripalani stepped into the shoes of Karl Marx, in turn bringing both intellect and empathy to a role that demanded internal transformation. We caught up with the veteran in his element – amid books, memories, and renewed passion for the stage. Excerpts from a freewheeling chat. In your long and notable acting career, are there characters you have played that you are particularly fond of? That's a tough one, because when I play a character, I have to fall in love with the person that I am playing. It is only then that I enjoy the role to every fibre of my being. I know it sounds dramatic, but that's the way I feel about each of the characters I play. One of the first roles I played on stage was Hamlet, hence, it remains special. There are many others that I thoroughly enjoyed, especially in black comedies and dramas. I loved directing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard, where I played Guildenstern. I believe I've been lucky, as most of my characters have been favourites. I played a truly nasty role in the play Miss Julie – but the audience liked him. It was an eye-opener. I realised how people interpret and even sympathise with such characters How did you get that role in Hamlet? By pure chance! I'd gone to pick up someone from an audition, and the director said, 'Why don't you audition?'That's how I got the role. It was one of the turning points of my life. Hamlet was one of the toughest roles I've ever comprised. I don't mean to sound naughty, but I think I fell in love with myself while playing it! How was your experience working with Kaushik Sen, his troupe Swapnasandhani, and also with Srijit? I want to adopt the three – Kaushik, his wife Reshmi and son Riddhi – as my family. After the production's first performance, Reshmi was so warm to me, and during the whole process, I never once felt out of place. I had my apprehensions, but it all turned out to be organic. The troupe is young, talented, and dedicated. I've rarely seen such a well-balanced group. Reshmi keeps things together while Kaushik brainstorms. Srijit was fun – he kept us all on our toes with his take on the Devil. Working with them was a wonderful experience and quite the ideal return after a hiatus. Becoming Marx Portraying Karl Marx on stage had its own challenges, and Jayant knew he couldn't depend on past performances for reference. 'I knew a few things about him, but I had to reach into my home library upstairs, and the one in my head.' Extensive reading helped him piece together the man behind the ideology. 'He wasn't perfect. He made mistakes, lived in poverty, and didn't see much success during his lifetime,' he reflects. To make the role his own, he went beyond the history books. 'I started wondering – how would he perceive present-day Kolkata?' Jayant says. The process became an exploration not just of Marx the man, but of Marxism itself – its ideals, contradictions and continued relevance. 'I had to understand his philosophy, its scope and limitations, and how he viewed money, love, life.' A return to the Kolkata stage Jayant Kripalani's return to theatre came after an unexpected break post-2019. 'I was working on a serious project in 2020 when COVID hit,' he says. Though he'd worked extensively in film, TV and theatre, not much had happened in Kolkata. 'As I said, I was apprehensive about working with a Kolkata-based director,' he admits. But after meeting Kaushik, things changed. Originally planned as a conversation piece, the project evolved into a reworked version of Marx in Soho. 'The play was received well,' adds Jayant.
