A boy who bought the dream of a curtain in exchange for a shiny silver spoon and a brass bowl, today has become a 'craftsman' of Nepali theatre, on whose shoulders the dignity of Nepali theatre rests. Anup Baral is a name in the history of Nepali theatre, who did not limit drama to acting alone but made it a medium for serious intellectual and social discussion. This seeker of colour, light and sound has neither a dictionary of regrets, nor a station to sit down.

After returning from the prestigious National School of Drama (NSD) in India in 2052 after graduating from the Stanislavski method, Nepali drama took a new and modern turn. His journey, which lasted almost four decades, has the power to divide Nepali theater into the periods of ‘Before Anup Baral’ and ‘After Anup Baral’.

‘Thangla’, ‘Courtmartial’, ‘Teen Ekant’, ‘Mahabhoj’ and other plays are vivid examples of Anup’s directorial skills. Born in Pokhara 57 years ago, he started acting in plays at the age of 13. In 2047, he made a manifesto and started operating the Pratibimb Theatre Laboratory in Pokhara, of which he was the president. At that time, he came from Pokhara and won a national award at the drama festival held in the capital. 

Growing up in Nadipur, Pokhara, his passion for cinema was extraordinary during his childhood. The temptation to watch the first ‘show’ of a new film at the Kalpana Cinema near his house was so strong that he used to give everything from the silver spoon to the brass bowl to the gatekeeper to watch the film. ‘When I didn’t have money, I would take the bowl from the house and give it to the gatekeeper and ask him to show me the film,’ he recalls, ‘In this way, I have completed a lot from the silver spoon to the brass bowl.’

When his mother came to know about this, his grandfather had said to Anup, ‘This is all Krishna’s Leela, don’t abuse him.’ That moment taught the boy Anup a strange lesson. ‘Suddenly, his grandfather had made me God. And, I felt that people make mistakes. God should not make mistakes,’ he says.

As a child, he dreamed of becoming an anti-hero like Amitabh Bachchan, Vinod Khanna, and Shatrughan Sinha. ‘I really wanted to be the person who would bring down those who did bad and evil things,’ he says with a laugh. Watching Tayamacha, Bhairav ​​Jatra, Bagh Jatra, reading comics like Phantom, Mandrake, Tarzan and having a close attachment to his father Durga Baral's painting 'Vatsyayan', he had a unique combination of audio-visuals. 'That combination probably led me to play plays in school and college,' he recalled.

His association with Sarubhakta gave direction to his acting journey. After directing Sarubhakta's play 'Thangla', he did not have to look back. 'And when I did not do acting, I started feeling like something close to me was missing. It was as if my body was not getting enough oxygen,' he said. 'If I did not do theatre, I felt like I was becoming stiff and lifeless. And then I realized that I had become addicted to theatre.'

At a time when theatre was considered the work of 'losers who did not get work, losers who had failed exams', Anup took theatre seriously. The interviews with artists and theatre makers from ‘Dinman’ and ‘Illustrated Weekly’ magazines that he read in his father’s library influenced him.

‘I began to understand that theatre is a unique thing that enlightens people,’ he says, ‘and, at that time, our mission as friends was – to do drama or theatre, it is necessary to be educated.’

As the expansion of electronic media and consumerist culture made the language of stage drama and cinema the same, he thought differently. The form and language of theatre and television should be different. If you fertilize the roots, the fruits that they give will be tasty and organic. This thinking led him to the National School of Drama (NSD), New Delhi.

For Anup, theatre is not just a medium to show skills. For him, theatre is more than a medium to show skills, it is a medium to portray life, where we see our own faces. And, we encounter our happiness, sorrow and its ‘gray-shades’ of contradictions and emotions. His plays take the audience home in search of questions. While designing the play, he is conscious of not allowing the audience to enter the scenes and characters. His knowledge of painting and literature has taken his plays to the height of perfection.

‘Theater helps us express ourselves, helps us tell the stories of our lives and the lives of others,’ he says, ‘It is a means of social transformation. It inspires people living in every corner of the globe to broaden and brighten their consciousness.’

He has not limited theater to drama alone. Through Actors Studio, he has given many actors to Nepali drama and cinema. He believes that the habit of using the senses, listening to each other, and giving space in theater makes an artist humble. ‘It makes us accustomed to listening to each other and giving space. This is about respecting each other,’ he says, ‘in a way, keeping our feet on the ground.’

For him, becoming an artist is a beautiful excuse for life. He says that becoming an artist has given him a sweet excuse to live life. He says, ‘I got to meet such good people, whom I probably would never have met even if I had thought I would meet them.’ His philosophy of life is clear – he does not work to show or prove anything to anyone. It separates him from himself.

When he takes a break from theater, he writes poetry, draws pictures with colors and brushwork, or goes on a journey. For him, poetry is beautiful pictures woven with letters. In defining love, he says, ‘For me, love is a practice, in which one must be able to sacrifice one’s life, in which there is no condition.’ The example of Radha and Krishna is a unique form of love for him.

Drama: A continuous struggle

For him, drama is a sacred struggle. This struggle extends from the words of the writer to the imagination of the director to the lively performance of the artist. It is not like the victory or defeat of a battlefield, but a rhythm of art, where a great creation is born from the harmony of all aspects.

The choice of drama confirms his mature time-consciousness and directorial freedom. Every viewer who comes out of the play has a question in their mind – ‘Can there be any higher possibility of directing in Nepali theater than this?’ Being able to raise this serious question is the measure of his success.

His current height is not just the result of his solitary efforts. The role of elders like Sunil Pokharel, the leader of Nepali modern theater, and his collaboration with him have given completeness to Anup’s personality. The confluence of elders’ guidance and his own rigorous practice is today’s ‘Anup’s theatrical era’.

He is currently busy passing on the philosophy and craft of theater to the new generation through his dream project ‘Hansadhwani’ in Pokhara. His devotion to theater is certain to continue to illuminate the Nepali art scene for decades.

The ‘Hansadhwani’ theater house, built on about 6 ropanis of land in Nadipur, Pokhara, is not just a brick and cement structure, it is a living embodiment of an organic dream that Anup Baral has nurtured for decades. 

The structure of the theatre being built by the non-profit Vatsyayan Foundation is almost ready. ‘It was a dream of mine. I would have liked to have created a place where artists, especially those associated with the ‘liberal arts’, could come and sit together and chat,’ he says.

Despite trying many times in Kathmandu, he realized that there was little artistic activity outside the capital. ‘Kathmandu has become the center of everything, the state has also built a lot there,’ he says, ‘but there is very little artistic activity outside Kathmandu.’ Hansadhwani will have a flexible stage that can accommodate 200 to 400 spectators, an assembly hall, classrooms, a bookstore, a library, a cafeteria, a hostel and an art gallery. The theatre, which will be run independently without any support from the government, is scheduled to open in April. ‘I think there are a lot of formal rules and restrictions when you are linked to the government. I think that only when you work independently can you come up with creative things,’ he says.

The concept of a membership card has been introduced for the financial aspect. He plans to make it a large art school in five years. ‘Our concept is not just a concrete building but an artistic place connected to human emotions,’ he says.

He is realistic about the question of whether theater can revolutionize. ‘Theater does not change anything overnight, its impact is only seen in the long term,’ he says, ‘Theater is not just a cultural activity, it is an event that broadens people’s consciousness.’

He has no regrets about his acting career. ‘There is no time to think about regrets in life,’ he says, ‘When you become a human, you have weaknesses. Life does not move forward by thinking only about those weaknesses.’ There is no word like sadness in his dictionary. He has assimilated what life has provided and moved forward. His desire is for the characters to come on stage like splashes of color, touch the audience and leave, and for the magic of a moment to last for years.

With this dream and practice, he is busy building his art hub in Pokhara. He believes that Hansadhwani will revive Pokhara's sluggish art scene and produce artists who will make an international name.

However, he is clear that this will not happen immediately. The main challenge now is to prepare manpower. Pokhara's population is about to reach one million, but many people are out for work or education. The young generation is under pressure to go abroad as soon as they pass grade 12. He has taken this as a big challenge. 'We cannot target only the mature generation, because as they grow older, their enthusiasm may decrease due to responsibilities and family problems,' he says. 'Therefore, the main thing is how to attract young people above 18 years of age towards art.'