Part perfect

Those who've seen Atul Kulkarni's spectacular metamorphosis from a burly rustic hero to the effeminate, waist-swinging nachya (female impersonator in a Tamasha) in Natarang perhaps have no doubt about who will sweep the awards for outstanding performance this year. So when the acclaimed artiste received the Best Actor award at PIFF, it was only a culmination of the generous appreciation he'd been receiving from audiences across the state. Ever since he stood up on screen to defend the artistic dignity that the socially-ridiculed nachya deserved, Kulkarni has elicited wide-ranging reactions – whistles at his immaculate impersonation of femininity, applause for the innate artistic conviction that shines through his dual roles, and tears of gratitude for the redemption his character brings to artistes who've been victims of rigid gender politics in our society.
The overwhelming responses have come as due rewards after a daunting professional and creative regime. Much has been said about Kulkarni's physical transformation – how he had to gain enormous amount of weight, before losing it for shooting the second half of the film. But was the internal journey into the two characters equally demanding? “Usually, when I try to get into the skin of the character, the journey goes from inside to the outside – from its mind to its appearance. But for Natarang, it happened the other way round. When I actually started carrying an 85 kg body on my feet, I started feeling like the character – Guna. The physique gave me access to his mind,” says Kulkarni.
And what about the delicate Maushi he's become post-interval? Was there any on screen precedent he followed? “A lot of people have asked me whether I had the well-known artiste Ganpat Patil in mind. But the essential difference between his character and the one I portrayed in Natarang is that my character is only an on-stage nahcya. He remains the man he was in his real life. He still is the same Guna, but he is humiliated for being a pansy because of his art - that's where the central conflict of the film lies,” says he.
Interestingly, his insight into nachya's character came in a flash. “We were rehearsing for a lavni in the film. And as I walked from the wings of the theatre to the stage dressed as a nachya, a group of boys who'd gathered on the sets, whistled at me. It was a moment of epiphany – I had goosebumps. I think I really got to understand what it feels like to be in a nachya's shoes then,” Kulkarni reveals.
In the film, his character faces a cruel dilemma before accepting the offer to turn nachya for the sake of his art, his dream – were there any personal conflicts he faced while accepting this physically, emotionally challenging role? “Not at all. I like roles which scare me. And this one surely did. After all, art really lives on because of these little moments when one feels – let me try it out!” Kulkarni says, summing up his creative drive for us.