Yesterday marked the death anniversary of Safdar Hashmi—a visionary of the people's theatre. If you're wondering who he was and what he stood for, let this stirring song from the archives be your introduction:
https://youtu.be/lzmYrCpawvg?si=DJ0cPR-vriFvln2a"
How many of you have heard this song on TV in your childhood?
It played every Sunday morning on Doordarshan—right before the cartoons, right before the whole family gathered around the TV.( I suppose, 80s & 90s kids will connect with this. For most of us, it was just a tune. We hummed it, we forgot it, we moved on.
But behind that simple melody stood a man whose life, art, and death changed the meaning of cultural resistance in India: Safdar Hashmi.
Why Should You Care? Let’s Talk to Gen-Z, Zen-Z & the ‘Apolitical’ Crowd
Some of you might be wondering:
“Why should a street-theatre activist from the 80s matter to me?”
Hmm… let me drop something interesting here.
Do you know who actor Hrithik Roshan’s current girlfriend is?
Yes—Saba Azad.
But what many don’t know is this:
Saba Azad is Safdar Hashmi’s niece.
Yes. The same Safdar Hashmi whose voice shaped an entire era of political theatre.
The same Safdar Hashmi whose songs played on Doordarshan every Sunday.
The same Safdar Hashmi who was killed while performing a street play that questioned power.
History hides in unexpected places.
Sometimes the people we admire today carry the stories of those who fought yesterday.
Now read on—and you’ll see why Safdar still matters.
The Man Behind the Song, the Stage, the Struggle
Safdar Hashmi wasn’t just a name in theatre circles. He was the fire behind Jana Natya Manch (Janam)—a movement that took art out of air-conditioned auditoriums and placed it directly in factory compounds, labour colonies, village squares.
He believed art must disturb.
Must provoke.
Must awaken.
His plays spoke of wages, rights, dignity, women’s safety, state excesses—topics still painfully relevant.
1 January 1989: When Democracy Was Attacked on the Street
On that day, while performing Halla Bol for industrial workers in Jhandapur, Ghaziabad, Safdar Hashmi and his team were brutally attacked by political goons.
Imagine that.
A man performing a play—beaten for speaking truth in public.
Safdar Hashmi died the next day, 2 January 1989, at a very young age of 35..
But here’s the part every Indian should remember:
The very next day, Janam returned to the same street and completed the play.
That moment became symbolic—
not just of grief, but of resistance.
Why His Legacy Still Burns Bright
Today, when dissent is labelled “anti-national,” when art is told to be entertaining but never questioning, when young voices are pushed into silence—Safdar Hashmi's life feels like a compass pointing towards courage.
He taught us that:
- culture is not neutral
- silence is not harmless
- democracy must be rehearsed, performed, protected
And perhaps, that is why powers of every era fear artists like him—because they refuse to become muted decoration.
Safdar Lives Wherever People Speak Up
From college street plays to protest poems, from worker unions to political theatre groups—Safdar Hashmi's shadow is still visible. Janam still performs. Students still study Halla Bol. And young actors still hold up his portrait during protests.
Safdar Hashmi's theatre never belonged inside glass showcases.
It belonged to the street, and it still does.
As His Death Anniversary Approaches
This year, as 2 January came remember:
Behind the Doordarshan song we loved…
Behind the political history we often ignore…
Behind the modern pop-culture connection you just discovered…
…stands a man who gave his life believing that truth must be spoken publicly and fearlessly.
The street remembers him.
Workers remember him.
History remembers him.
And now—
thanks to that one unexpected connection—
even the apolitical might pause and pay attention.
No comments:
Post a Comment