Vijay Tendulkar’s Ghashiram Kotwal is one of the most provocative and politically charged plays in modern Indian theatre. Written in 1972 and set in 18th-century Pune, the play narrates the rise and fall of Ghashiram, a North Indian Brahmin who gains the power as the chief police officer through a Faustian bargain with the powerful Nana Phadnavis, the historical Peshwa minister of the Maratha confederacy. On the surface, the play appears to be a historical allegory, but a closer reading reveals that it is a complex postcolonial commentary on power, corruption, identity, and authoritarianism.
At the heart of the play lies a fierce critique of how power operates in a postcolonial society. Tendulkar does not restrict himself in narrating the tyrannical actions of a single man but exposes a cyclical structure of exploitation where victims become victimizers. Ghashiram’s transformation from a humiliated outsider to a merciless enforcer underscores the dangerous effect of power in a society recovering from the collapse of traditional authority and adjusting to new hierarchies. This structure resonates with the postcolonial condition, where colonial power may have formally ended, but its mechanisms of control surveillance, domination, and public humiliation persist through native institutions and figures.
Tendulkar shows how colonial modes of governance such as the arbitrary arrests, and public punishment are internalized and reproduced by Indians themselves. Ghashiram, in his obsession with control, creates a police state, complete with permits, nightly patrols, and brutal torture techniques. In doing so, he becomes a symbol of the native elite who mimic colonial authority, even as they are rejected by the very society they try to dominate. His downfall, sanctioned by the very power that created him, is emblematic of how postcolonial systems recycle oppression under different guises.
The theme of mimicry, discussed extensively in postcolonial theory by scholars like Homi K. Bhabha, is evident in Ghashiram’s behavior. As a northern Brahman in the culturally rigid and orthodox Pune society, Ghashiram is always an outsider. His desire to prove himself by adopting extreme authoritarianism can be seen as a form of mimicry in postcolonial context . He mimics not only the colonial police machinery but also the patriarchal, hierarchical Brahmanism of the elite, hoping that adopting their norms will gain him legitimacy. But mimicry here becomes mockery. Ghashiram's attempt to fit into the power structure exposes its inherent contradictions and moral decay.
Moreover, the play critiques the Brahmanical patriarchy in Pune, revealing it as hypocritical and decadent. Nana, though a revered figure in history, is shown indulging in hedonistic pleasures, objectifying women, and discarding all values. The so-called religious and cultural guardians are portrayed as morally depraved.
The role of women in the play, particularly the character of Gauri, Ghashiram’s daughter, further deepens the postcolonial critique. Gauri is commodified in a political transaction, offered to Nana in return for her father’s political elevation. Her eventual death, shrouded in silence and sufferings, symbolize the erasure of women’s identity in patriarchal and political systems. She is doubly colonized by her father and by the state authority represented by Nana. The female body in this play becomes a site on which masculine power politics play out, echoing postcolonial feminist concerns about how nationalist and postcolonial discourses often exclude women.
One of Tendulkar’s most striking strategies in the play is the use of traditional music, folk forms, and religious rituals to create irony and underscore the contradictions in society. This use of performance becomes a meta-theatrical tool, forcing the audience to reflect not only on the content but also on the medium of theatre itself. In doing so, Tendulkar aligns with postcolonial aesthetics that break the illusion of realism and implicate the audience in the spectacle of injustice.
The play’s climactic scenes, where Ghashiram is turned upon by the very society he ruled and raise uncomfortable questions about popular justice and mob mentality. The crowd that once feared Ghashiram now takes pleasure in his suffering, engaging in public humiliation and violence. This is not portrayed as a redemptive moment but as a continuation of the same cycle of cruelty. Tendulkar seems to suggest that violence has become naturalized, not just as a tool of state control but as a response to injustice, a dangerous trend that mirrors postcolonial India's shift from Gandhian ideals to a more brutal political culture.
As Tendulkar himself noted, "violence is around us, it is within us." His dramatization of it is not merely to shock but to expose the emotional numbness and ethical confusion of a society that has replaced colonial rulers with native tyrants and made violence a spectacle.
Ghashiram Kotwal ends not with a sense of justice restored but with a disturbing silence. Ghashiram is gone, but Nana remains unchallenged. The crowd rejoices, but their joy is hollow. The chorus resumes its song, and the wheel turns, signaling that nothing has truly changed. Tendulkar, through this powerful finale, offers a postcolonial tragedy that denies catharsis. He subverts the traditional dramatic structure by refusing to offer resolution or redemption. Instead, he compels the audience to reflect on the enduring nature of oppression, the involvement of the elite, the hollowness of religious authority, and the tragic failure of moral responsibility in a postcolonial society.
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