Showing posts with label Aditya Rawal interview. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aditya Rawal interview. Show all posts
Paresh Rawal, Aditya Rawal on craft, clashes & strange intimacy of making theatre across generations
9:48 AM
Jane Borges (MUMBAI MIRROR; November 23, 2025)
As a theatre veteran and proud parent, Paresh Rawal has followed his son Aditya’s work closely. At the recent Prithvi Theatre Festival, where Aditya, 32, premiered The Queen, set in 1567 in the fictional kingdom of Banasvan during Akbar’s reign, Paresh attended an earlier show that week and then returned to see it again. Seated just an aisle below this writer, he watched the entire performance and later stood with the audience as the cast received a standing ovation.
“It was a thrilling experience,” says Paresh, 70, when I meet him at Aditya’s Juhu residence days later. “I’d seen the play when it was first staged in America [Theatre for the New City in New York] back in 2016, but was keen to experience it again, because I knew he’d made several changes to make it tighter, more effective, and more impactful.”
Was he pleased with the result? “Very happy,” he says, smiling at Aditya. “He is on the right path.”
Aditya is a spitting image of his father. “There’s an old picture of my father standing on stage, from 1979, I think… everything from his posture, the body structure, the height, even the hair, reminds me of me,” Aditya says. What Paresh passed on is not only resemblance but instinct for the stage.
Aditya has worked in film. He co-wrote Panipat in 2019, acted in Bamfaad in 2020 and won the Filmfare Award for Best Debut Male for Faraaz in 2023. Yet theatre remains home. “I don’t find anything more glamorous than 300 people who’ve come to see your play, talk to you right after the show is done. We are buzzing, they are buzzing, hopefully. It beats the high of a red carpet any given day.”
Life, arranged in acts
The apartment reflects a life built around theatre. Minimal furniture sits pushed aside. “We rehearse here often,” Aditya says. A bookshelf covers one wall, next to a metal trunk that catches Paresh’s eye. “What’s inside it?” he asks. “Some of the costumes and props for the play.”
Three more shows of The Queen are lined up at Prithvi. He says it “keeps evolving with every performance.” Directed by Daniel D’Souza and produced by his mother, Swaroop Sampat, the story follows Durga, once adored as queen and counsel, now numbing herself with drink after her husband Amar takes another wife. When Amar must decide whether to join Akbar in battle against his own kin, she becomes the mind he turns to.
His influences include Macbeth and Medea. “I never understood how she could do that to her children, until I actually wrote The Queen,” he says. Paresh nods. “As a writer, he is quite radical. On the one hand you have Siachen and on the other hand, you have The Queen.” Aditya responds lightly. “And as actor, my father knows exactly what will work for the stage.”
The first cue
Paresh’s association with theatre began when he was nine. “There were these open-air dramas that would be staged in the ground next to my building in Vile Parle East. They would go on till 2 or 3 in the morning, and I’d strain my ears to listen to the dialogues,” he recalls.
Soon he turned up for rehearsals. “Since my memory was good, I’d sometimes help with prompting and even moving around stage furniture.”
A small part followed. “I got bitten by the keeda… I couldn’t imagine doing anything else,” he says. His formal debut came in 1972 with the Gujarati play Vairi (Hasty Heart).
Aditya’s path was less direct. He first pursued football at a professional level. “When I wasn’t training, I was filling up my days writing stories,” he says. Theatre had already seeped in; he grew up watching his father on tour, seeing Kishan Vs Kanhaiya almost 30 times. Eventually he chose the stage, leaving for New York University to study drama.
In the wings
Paresh hopes his son will take on more acting roles, while Aditya prefers to keep writing and performing separate. “Aditya also has this Leftist leaning, you know, and that happens with every artist,” Paresh says. “I had it once, too. There’s this rebel streak in us. But hopefully he is balanced and can analyze things for himself.”
Talk turns to Paresh’s recent release The Taj Story, criticized as “right-wing propaganda.” He dismisses the label. “When this script came to me, I was zapped by the research. It was very meticulous,” he says. “The writer even provided me all the primary resources… I don’t like doing anything for the sake of sensationalism.”
His son listens, quietly. “As an artiste, I truly have an advantage… I can come home and have a two-hour conversation about my work with somebody who has done 100-plus plays, 5,000-plus shows,” he says. Paresh laughs. “But normally, you don’t have this two-hour conversation with me, ha.” “Yes, normally we don’t, but at least for the interview we can say it,” Aditya replies.
Their laughter lands in the same rhythm. A collaboration, they agree, would be the perfect sync to their parallel acts.
New York has 200 legit venues; hence, their theatre scene is rich; I'm already a better writer than Paresh Rawal-Aditya Rawal
8:19 AM
Debarati S Sen (BOMBAY TIMES; March 28, 2025)
On World Theatre Day (March 27), three theatre artistes who come from families deeply entrenched in performing arts — Girija Oak (theatre veteran Girish Oak’s daughter), Aditya Rawal (Paresh Rawal’s son) and Zahan Kapoor (Shashi Kapoor’s grandson) — came together to reflect on the enduring magic of theatre.
In a freewheeling conversation at the iconic Prithvi Theatre in Juhu, they speak about the unique rigour of live performance, the irreplaceable connection with a living audience, and why, even as AI and OTT reshape entertainment, theatre remains timeless. From personal lessons passed down by their legendary families to hopes for creating a more sustainable theatre ecosystem, they share what keeps them rooted to the stage — and why they believe theatre’s best days may still lie ahead. Excerpts…
World Theatre Day isn’t just a moment to celebrate the stage, but to also reflect on its influence. How has theatre shaped you?
Zahan: We celebrate theatre every day. Being part of Prithvi, where the ethos is to constantly honour the arts, theatre has shaped me by showing that the performing arts are a celebration of life itself.
Aditya: Theatre has always been a primary form of self-expression. From school plays to endless rehearsals, it’s where I could be my most uninhibited self. As an actor, it’s shaped me profoundly — there’s nowhere to hide on stage. Unlike film, where you can rely on close-ups or cuts, in theatre, you’re fully exposed. That’s the best kind of training for any actor.
Girija: It’s been part of me since birth — my father literally left a play’s rehearsal to see me when I was born! I grew up backstage, and there’s even a story of me bawling to get on stage as a toddler. Theatre feels like home — it's where I feel most alive. Like Aditya said, it's an art form where you can’t fake it. You have to be present, honest, and vulnerable — and in a world full of distractions, that truth is rare and precious.
Today, when digital platforms are demanding so much attention, where does theatre stand in the entertainment landscape?
Zahan: Theatre is much bigger than any of us — it has survived and thrived for thousands of years. And honestly, I think this is one of the best times to be working on stage. The magic of live performance feels more urgent now than ever. With so much saturation in digital spaces and AI around the corner, what’s real, what’s live, and what’s shared in the moment will hold even more value. I’m excited about where theatre is headed.
Aditya: Exactly. In an age where AI will blur lines between real and fake, what’s live and present — theatre — will become even more precious. For over a century, cinema has trained us to believe what we see on screen. But with AI, the value of what’s on a screen will diminish. What will always matter is what’s right in front of you — real human connection. Theatre has existed for thousands of years. It’s going to be fine — but for it to truly thrive, we need more spaces and financial support. Most productions today are semi-professional because people can’t afford to focus solely on theatre. If we want better theatre, we have to pay artists enough to devote themselves fully. We also need more affordable, high-quality venues. Look at New York — there are over 200 legit venues, and that's why their theatre scene is so rich. If we build that kind of ecosystem, Indian theatre will grow exponentially.
Girija: Theatre has survived for thousands of years and will continue long after us. But yes, if we want more professionals to stay in theatre, we need a sustainable model. There’s always been this theatre and gareebi ka romance. I think it's time to change that perception. And many people are already working toward that. There are all kinds of theatre happening — not everything is struggling. But to strengthen the ecosystem, better infrastructure and more supportive venues are crucial. If we can all come together — artists, institutions, patrons — we can make that happen.
Each of you comes from families with deep artistic and cinematic roots. While legacy can open doors, it also comes with expectations. How have you carved your own unique space within the theatre space?
Girija: Yes, my father, Girish Oak, has been a theatre actor for over 40 years, and recently won awards for two different plays in the same year — that’s the level of legacy I come from. So when I perform, if I falter, it's not just my failure — I risk dragging down his name too. Marathi theatre is a close-knit world, so stakes are high. To navigate that, I made a conscious choice early on — I started doing theatre in languages other than Marathi, like English, Hindi, and Gujarati. It helped me step out of his shadow and earn my own stripes, even though people still recognize me as his daughter. It’s a double-edged sword — you carry the weight, but also the pride.
Aditya: There are definitely advantages to coming from a family in the field — access, guidance, emotional support — all of that. But as for pressure, honestly, what pressure? I'm already a better writer than Paresh Rawal! My parents have been in this field for 30-40 years. I’ll do my time too, and eventually, after my 40 years, people can compare. Right now, I’m just focused on doing the work.
Zahan: Honestly, there’s no pressure — no one from my family has been on stage in over 50 years! So, in a way, the fact that I'm doing theatre is a big deal in itself. The pressure I feel comes more from the outside world, but not from home.
Theatre creates a unique, unrepeatable connection between the performer and the audience — something no other medium can replicate. What, according to you, makes this live experience so powerful and intimate?
Aditya: The sort of understanding is that you'll take out your time and come I'll take out my time and come I'll do it in front of you. It's a commitment from both parties which is what ensures that you can't be swiped, flicked away or whatever.
Zahan: It is an act of communion from both sides in the present and is grounded in the present.
Girija: Theatre is alive. It's palpable. It's happening right in front of you. I did something and you got it. It's all there. And it's only for you today, no one will ever see this particular show again!
Girija, how does the immediacy and intimacy of theatre impact you as a performer compared to the camera? What does theatre give you that other mediums don’t?
Theatre gives you a kind of presence no other medium does — you can't be picked away with a remote. Once the audience is in, they're committed, and that brings a reverence to the whole experience, for them and for us as actors. What I love most is the magic of it. You don’t need a real box to show a box — you mark a spot and everyone respects it. I can walk on stage and say, "This is my palace," and people will believe it. That’s the beauty of theatre — it lets you create entire worlds with just belief. It’s always alive, always evolving. It’s an immersive space — for the actor and for the audience — and that’s what makes theatre magical for me.
Zahan, coming from a family synonymous with Indian cinema, what made you choose theatre — and what has theatre taught you that perhaps no other medium could?
Theatre has taught me rigour — the discipline of doing something again and again, that sense of riyaaz. As actors, we often don’t practise like musicians or dancers do, but theatre humbles you into respecting that process. Initially, I thought I’d get bored repeating the same performance night after night. But I’ve realized it's the opposite — theatre challenges you to surprise yourself, to rediscover the material every time. It’s an act of deep listening, in the truest sense. Historically, people went to hear a play (audience), not just watch one — and that idea really resonates with me. In a world obsessed with visuals, theatre reminds me to listen — to the story, to my fellow actors, to the audience. And that’s a lesson that spills into every other art form.
Aditya, how has writing shaped your approach to acting on stage? Do you find that understanding a script from a writer’s lens makes you more sensitive as an actor?
Absolutely. I think writing, acting, and editing are where real storytelling happens — and knowing one sharpens the other. As a writer, if I can't say what I've written out loud or find the dramatic thread in a scene, how can I expect an actor to do it? And as an actor, when you approach a script — whether great or flawed — you learn to find layers, subtext, and meaning that might not be obvious. But I’m very careful not to mix the two while working. If I’m writing, I’m not thinking like an actor. And when I’m acting, I throw the writer’s hat away — otherwise, you end up overthinking and second-guessing, which kills spontaneity. That said, doing both is a huge advantage — and honestly, it’s fun. If someone’s letting you pretend to be other people on stage, and then you get to sit at a desk and make up stories — why not? We’ll do this till we die. Marte dum tak!
Girija, tell us about your special connection to Royal Opera House.
The first show of my play Gauhar was at the Royal Opera House — the same stage where Gauhar herself performed in 1905! Stepping onto that stage felt surreal. It was like sharing space with history.
Zahan, your journey into theatre has a fascinating beginning. How did your first play come about?
I had been trying to start acting since 2012-13 — attending workshops, rehearsals, anything I could find. By 2018-19, I was so frustrated nothing was working out and I was desperate to be on stage — even if it meant performing under a tin shed! Coincidentally, Max sir (Makarand Deshpande), who had given me the script of PitaJi Please two years earlier, ran into me at Prithvi and asked what I was up to. I said, “Sir, I’m still reading your script!” That's how it began. It came together organically — Max sir decided to direct it, Swanand sir wanted to collaborate, and suddenly we were rehearsing. The first shows were at Prithvi, and then, unexpectedly, our third show was at Royal Opera House — a place my grandfather Prithviraj Kapoor’s theatre company used as its first office. I was the first Kapoor since his generation to perform on that stage. I realized, standing there, that I was literally walking in their footsteps. That’s the magic of theatre — spaces hold history, and when you perform, you become part of that story.
Aditya, as someone deeply rooted in both theatre and cinema, how do you reflect on the legacy of spaces like Royal Opera House?
You know, a film gets immortalized — it’s captured forever, but the set is torn down. In theatre, nothing is recorded in the same way, but the energy lingers in the space. Standing on a stage like Royal Opera House, where legends like Prithviraj Kapoor and Gauhar once performed, you feel that history. Being from Bombay, we forget how historic the city’s theatre scene really is.
Have your parents ever shared any advice that has stayed with you particularly in the context of performance or fame or the craft itself?
Girija: My father told me two things right at the start. First, "Never expect me to put in a word for you." He was clear — if I wanted to make it, I had to do it on my own. In fact, there was a time they were looking for an actor my age for a film he was part of, and when asked for suggestions, he gave them eight names — none of them mine! Eventually, they found me through someone else and were surprised to discover he was my father. But that was his point — when I’m 60 or 70, I should be able to look back and know I built my career myself. That’s a bigger gift than any one project. The second thing he told me, maybe because I was a young girl starting out at 16, was: "Learn to say no." He never imposed restrictions or treated me differently because I was a girl — our family is very progressive that way. But he was aware of how the world works. He said, "If something makes you uncomfortable, say no — politely, kindly, but firmly." And that advice has stayed with me.
Aditya: All of our parents have this way of keeping us grounded. You know, if someone praises you in front of them, they’ll say, "Aap ghar aake dekh lo, naalayak hai yeh!" But the one piece of advice that’s stayed with me is what my dad says: "Don’t hold on to anything that isn’t permanent — and nothing is." Whether it’s a high or a low, whether you've done an amazing show or a terrible one — move ahead. Even if you hit every beat perfectly on stage, great, but move on. If you don’t, still move on. Whether you're on top or at rock bottom, keep going. And this comes from his own complicated relationship with fame. I’ve seen how people chase fame and validation, but he’s always kept it at arm’s length. I once asked him about it and he said, "If you fall in love with fame, you start holding on to it, and then it controls you. Better to enjoy it when it comes, but never depend on it." So that’s something I try to remember — don't let anything define you, because none of it lasts.
Zahan: The one thing my dad always says is: "Keep at it, no matter what. Don’t expect handouts — earn your place." Dedication is everything. The result? Not so much. He’s always pointed out to me what real excellence looks like — whether it’s watching Naseer Saab, Ratna Ma’am, or others. "Look at how they speak, how they move — listen carefully," he’d say. Not just acting — but also the craft, the discipline, the technical side, lighting, sound, music, even Western influences. He encouraged me to watch and learn from all of it. But at the end of the day, it’s on you. Just knowing isn’t enough — you have to do the work. And that’s something I try to live by.
Paresh Rawal is not as mad as his Hera Pheri character, but he’s great fun to grow old with-Swaroop Sampat
8:24 AM
With Paresh and Swaroop Sampat Rawal’s son, Aditya, making his acting debut, the family talks about adapting to the times and the changing face of cinema
Kunal Guha (MUMBAI MIRROR; May 17, 2020)
The only “silver lining” in the nationwide lockdown so far, says Swaroop Sampat Rawal, is that the family has got a chance to watch Aditya’s acting debut in the web film, Bamfaad.
“After watching it, Aditya and [older son] Aniruddh spoke to Paresh at length about cinema and acting. It was like being part of an in-house masterclass,” says the 61-year-old actor and education counsellor, who made her comeback on the big screen with Uri last year.
Surprisingly, Aditya’s father, veteran actor and former Lok Sabha MP, Paresh Rawal, only learnt about his son’s decision to face the camera five hours before he went on set. “For some reason, he decided not to tell me earlier,” says Rawal Sr, whose only bit of acting advice for his son was “to preare hard and be spontaneous”.
Before his debut, the 28-year-old had pursued the dramatic writing programme at the Tisch School of the Arts, New York, and an initiation course in theatre and performance at the London International School of Performing Arts. He also wrote and directed The Queen, a stage production about a 16th century Rajput queen who is abandoned by her husband for a younger woman. The play, which premiered in New York, was to be staged in Mumbai, but had to be postponed due to the Coronavirus pandemic. It did, however, enjoy a 12-week run in the Big Apple, and earned him the New York Innovative Theatre Award.
Reflecting on her son’s debut, Swaroop points out how the entertainment industry has become a lot more organised now. “In my time, it was just luck by chance. I became Miss India in 1979 and shortly after, landed two roles with Yash Raj [Dilip Naik’s Nakhuda, 1981] and Hrishi da [Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Naram Garam, 1981],” she says, of her memorable onscreen turns. “Even Paresh got one of his early breaks in Arjun (in 1985) because the one of the producers [Karim Morani] was in college with him.”
Swaroop says she took a break from films in the mid-1980s, when she felt she was seen as “too old to play the heroine”. “I have a problem of not being able to look old. Even when I played an older character, I would look as young as the heroine,” she laughs, adding that her decision to turn away from films was also to be a full-time mum. “Paresh was working two to three shifts a day. Someone had to be at home with the boys.”
Aditya says his childhood was far removed from the world of cinema, where conversations about films and theatre were few and infrequent. “In fact, the only time I remember being on a film set while Dad was shooting was OMG Oh My God [2012], where I was an assistant director,” says the youngster, who has also assisted Ashutosh Gowarikar with the story and screenplay of Panipat [2019]. But he does have his share of memories of his father speaking fondly about theatre and acting in plays. “My favourite performance of his is Khel [2000], with Naseeruddin Shah. Watching them together was fabulous and enlightening. They are both so passionate about their craft,” says Aditya, referring to the Hindi adaptation of British playwright Anthony Shaffer’s Sleuth.
In recent years, Swaroop has delved into experiential learning, which essentially employs her skills as an actor in teaching. Having received a full scholarship from a UK university, she completed her doctorate in education on the role of drama in enhancing life skills. Last year, Swaroop trained 2.5 lakh teachers in the subject over a four-day workshop in Gujarat, and plans to conduct a similar session for nearly five lakh teachers in Maharashtra soon. She has also visited tribal areas in the country and taught life skills through drama to children from low income households.
“They were so excited to learn from me that they went home and proudly told their parents, ‘Our teacher is a Miss India’,” she says. Her newly-discovered passion for teaching has had a profound effect on her. “While narrating a story in a classroom, you have to be louder than usual, which makes Paresh often ask me, ‘why are you so animated?’ In fact, when I’m on screen now, I have to readjust my levels,” she says, adding that her work in cinema has given her a lifelong training in adapting to new things. “I remember Hrishi da would explain a whole scene and ask me to do it in one take… and if I protested, he would say, ‘you guys are theatre actors, you should manage it’.”
Her return to films has been smooth, even though she sometimes “feels like a dinosaur” on the sets. “I didn’t grow up in the digital age. I was thrown into it. We had huge cameras and lights then, and now, the camera has shrunk so much that you don’t even feel its presence,” Swaroop says.
Even a veteran actor like Paresh Rawal finds it tough at times to keep up. At 64, he feels there’s “plenty to learn and even more to unlearn”. “You realise that a lot of what you’ve picked up over the years is rubbish,” he says, lauding contemporary actors such as Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Ayushmann Khurrana, Rajkummar Rao and Adil Hussain for their compelling work. “When you look at them, you can see that the standards of acting have also changed.”
Films, too, have come a long way since he made his debut in 1982 with Naseeb Ni Balihari, says the Padma Shri recipient. Earlier, films were clearly categorised as either commercial or arthouse and parallel cinema, the latter being dominated by heavyweights such as Shyam Benegal, Ketan Mehta, Govind Nihlani and Syed Mirza. “Now, films are not so segregated,” he says. “Another blessing is that since the foreign companies have opened offices here, we can no longer copy from their films, lest we get penalised,” he says with a chuckle. “This is also why we have begun mining our own stories and histories.”
Known for his comic timing, Paresh likes to subject his family to his one-liners. “Often, his sense of humour lands us in sticky situations,” Aditya says, referring to his father’s tweets. “He’s not as mad as his Hera Pheri character, but he’s great fun to grow old with,” says Swaroop.
Not many actors get such a unique launch-Aditya Rawal
8:36 AM
As his debut film Bamfaad eyes direct-to-web release due to lockdown, in his first press interview, Paresh Rawal's son Aditya on being launched sans fanfare and following in dad's footsteps
Mohar Basu (MID-DAY; April 8, 2020)
A star kid's foray into B-Town is all about razzmatazz, complete with a promotional spree and the youngster's face being splashed on billboards across the country. In sharp contrast, Aditya Rawal — the son of veteran actor Paresh Rawal — finds himself getting the most unusual Bollywood break amid the Coronavirus lockdown as his debut vehicle, Bamfaad, directly drops on Zee5."Not many actors get such a unique launch. Going forward, I hope to have the regular round of promotions, but I am relishing what I have," says the actor. Witnessing one's maiden venture play out on the big screen and dropping by Gaiety Galaxy over the first weekend to gauge the film's performance are almost a rite of passage for B-Town hopefuls. But he does not begrudge the lack of it all. "I did not want a traditional break. Being on the big screen has its appeal, and I will get there in the future. Once the lockdown is lifted, there will be a flood of movies, and in the process, many films may get lost. So, I'm glad that Bamfaad is releasing at a time when the hunger for content is more than ever."
With the film being backed by Anurag Kashyap, Aditya is proud that his first work has the stamp of approval from his mentor. "He has a massive library of books and DVDs, so I had assumed he hadn't read or watched even half of those. But Anurag sir has read all the books thrice over and watched the movies on loop. He has so much knowledge to impart."
With one of the finest talents of Indian cinema for his father, Aditya knows he has big shoes to fill. "There is the pressure to live up to his name, but he is so far ahead in the game. I will worry about it 40 years later when I have done half the work that he has. I am thankful that everyone is curious about me because I happen to be his son. But I need to carve my own identity."
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