Zahan Kapoor and Kunal Kapoor at the Prithvi Theatre. pics/shadab khan

As part of our latest Arts Adda edition, Kunal and Zahan Kapoor, trustees of Prithvi Theatre, sit down with Shriram Iyengar over a Suleimani chai to retrace memories of growing up around the stage, the myths, and traditions, as well as the upcoming Prithvi Theatre Festival
Shriram Iyengar (MID-DAY; October 21, 2026)

What is your earliest memory of theatre?
Kunal Kapoor: Oh, I was nursed in the wings here. My mother was still acting when I was a few months old. My early years were backstage. Then, it was watching my grandparents [Geoffrey and his wife Laura Kendal] perform Shakespeareana while in school.
Zahan Kapoor: For me, it was watching The Boy Who Stopped Smiling. I also vividly remember Zakir ji [late Ustad Zakir Hussain] performing at the Prithvi Memorial Concerts.

At what point then, does the importance of this cultural legacy of the stage strike you?
Kunal: That came first. My mother and grandparents would read me Shakespeare plays for my bedtime stories. My mother [Jennifer Kendal] opened the theatre in 1978, and hosted the first Prithvi Theatre Festival in 1983. Unfortunately, she passed away in 1984. I didn’t go out looking for it [the legacy]. It just landed on my shoulders.
Zahan: It was 2012 onwards, as a young adult that I began to get involved. Since then, it became a parallel exploration for me.

The venue has staged countless legends that it beggars belief. Is there a story that is popular among the Prithvi family that remains part of its myth?
Zahan: I don’t know. There are too many. The classic one I remember is of Amjad Khan.
Kunal: Back then, the café was being run by Mrs Pinto [Meena Pinto] and her son. Amjad Khan was performing here. Amjad Khan, if anyone knows him, drank tea continuously. At one point, the café told him that they had run out of milk. The next day, at about 8 am, Amjad saab had deposited two buffaloes by the theatre. “Next time, don’t tell me that you ran out of milk”, he said. [Laughs] The stage has always been a place for stories, and traditions. I am sure there are more than a few..
Zahan: The performers often assemble in a huddle in the make-up room before the third bell. That’s a part of the stage ritual now.
Kunal: Few people know that every troupe that performs here leaves a tip for the café staff. They did that in the lockdown as well, despite there being no performances. One more tradition is that the stage is never dark. We set up my grandfather’s chair, with two ghost lights that stay on through the night.

Is digitising the Prithvi Theatre archives part of keeping that memory alive.
Zahan: We are trying to document as much as we can [of the past]. The goal is to make that more accessible. That’s a fine balance to keep even as you evolve.
Kunal: Nothing has evolved. Trying to make the economics work is the biggest battle. The festival certainly facilitates that experience. I am fascinated by the curation this year, especially with Naseeruddin Shah’s take on Salman Rushdie’s experience in 27 Seconds?
Zahan: I am very curious about that as well.
Kunal: I think Salman Rushdie is curious about it, too. [laughs]

But what are some things you’d want the new generation of patrons to take away from the festival?
Kunal: Every single play.
Zahan: The idea is to celebrate. Watch everything you can, hang out at the café, come talk to us over tea.