Epistolary exchanges have always fascinated both theatre-makers and audiences alike. A personal letter is imbued with the warm intimacy of a private encounter, or the unguarded candour of those who presume their confidences will remain forever sequestered, and perhaps, they are a mirror to a society that is constantly in flux. After showings of her self-styled ‘work-in-progress’ documentary piece, Lady Anandi, which excavated the world of female impersonators in early 20th-century Indian theatre, Bengaluru-based Anuja Ghosalkar is back in Mumbai with The Reading Room, in which members of a roughly dozen-strong audience will read out letters that they themselves contribute to the evening, interspersed with more widely known epistles like Rohith Vemula’s suicide note or Karl Marx’s love letter to Jenny von Westphalen.

Declarations of self

“The ‘classic’ letters are the pillars of the reading room that ensure the pendulum comes back to the mean, providing the session a structure of some sort,” explains Ghosalkar. She is quick to add that it is in the ‘found’ artefacts of private correspondence that the power of The Reading Room lies. Selections from more than 80 letters archived from previous showings are also part of the mix, leading to an intense and heady sharing in which spectators become de facto performers. This is very different from the staged readings that we have grown accustomed to, where actors take on two sides of a longstanding exchange. Here, each letter is a burst of evocation, and stands entirely by itself. Participants’ vulnerabilities add layers to the presentation, although they don’t read their own contributions but something else from within the pool.

For Ghosalkar, this was a collection exercise of sorts, and letters being the most common personal archives was an obvious staring point. “All these letters contribute to smaller histories that could perhaps challenge the prevailing narrative of national character that is imposed on us,” she says. At this time, only letters in English have been included, which introduces a skew of privilege perhaps. The evolution of the written language, however, does give us a sense of a country’s changing history. The Reading Room has attracted readers from ages 17 to 80. It has included letters that were never sent: fior isnatnce, one written by a woman to her aborted child. Often, ‘readers’ might bring in original letters in fraying butter paper and torn envelopes, others bring neatly typed-out facsimiles. These are then placed in envelopes and randomly handed out. Each participant might read two-three letters in a session.

What audiences might choose to bring to an outing such as this, results in patterns that Ghosalkar observes with an anthropological gaze. Love letters are very frequently encountered. In one session, a pair of clandestine lovers brought love letters to each other. In others, parents have written to their children, and queer individuals have declared their persuasions. On occasion, Ghosalkar has requested actors to write out fictionalised responses to letters from the burgeoning archive that are then placed in the reading list. “This is a pure form of documentary theatre — there is a document and there are actors who work through the material, mistakes and all,” she signs off.

The Reading Room will take place this evening at 6 p.m. at Si Bambai, Mumbai Samachar Marg, Fort; to register email: anu.ghosalkar@gmail.com