There is an ongoing controversy surrounding the long-running Marathi play Aamne Saamne. I first came across a video posted by the actors, Rohan Gujar and Ketaki Palav, who said that they were told, without any prior notice or discussion, that the show they had just performed would be their last. The actors are now claiming that they were fired because they had asked for a pay raise.
Then, the producers, Mangesh Kadam and Leena Bhagwat, released a video of their own, saying that they had increased the actors’ pay last year, that they couldn’t afford what the actors were asking for now, and that the Marathi theatre industry doesn’t function on the basis of annual pay raises.
As an outsider who has seen only the two videos posted by the parties involved, I won’t comment on who is right and who is wrong. I genuinely do not know what transpired between them, and I don’t think it would be fair to draw conclusions without knowing the complete picture.
However, there was one argument in the producers’ defence that stayed with me. They said that the Marathi theatre industry doesn’t function this way and that nobody gives actors a hike every year.
And that got me thinking.
Since when has the absence of a practice become a justification for not having one?
Correct me if I’m wrong, but if a play runs continuously for 15–20 years, will the producers still sell tickets at the same price they were selling them for 20 years ago? Will the costs of running the production remain the same? Will the economics of the business remain unchanged?
No, right?
Then why should the actors’ remuneration be expected to remain unchanged simply because annual pay raises aren’t the norm in the industry?
Actors are an integral part of a production. Their performances are part of what brings audiences to the theatre and keeps a play running successfully. And theatre isn’t an easy career to choose in the first place. It demands time, commitment and a willingness to work around schedules that aren’t always convenient.
So why can’t actors, like corporate employees, have a structured system for reviewing their pay? Why can’t there be a rule that when a play successfully completes a certain number of shows, the actors’ remuneration is reviewed? Why must an actor ask for a raise to even initiate that conversation?
And what happens to those who don’t ask?
Does an actor who demands a raise deserve better compensation than someone who does equally good work but chooses not to negotiate? Do the former get a hike while the latter continue working for years at the same rate simply because they haven’t asked for more?
Fair compensation shouldn’t depend on who is willing to demand it.
Play schedules are already hectic. To earn a decent living, Marathi actors juggle television serials, films—if they get them—and plays, working wherever and whenever the shows are scheduled. They manage multiple commitments, adjust their schedules and meet the expectations of different productions.
Yes, they do this to earn a living. But their ability to manage these demanding schedules is also what allows productions to continue running year after year.
Shows are scheduled even during festivals, and these actors show up then, too. They honour their commitments and continue performing for audiences, often while juggling other professional and personal responsibilities.
If actors are expected to demonstrate this level of commitment to a production, shouldn’t there be an equally strong commitment to ensuring that they are paid fairly?
A production’s success cannot be separated entirely from the people who help make that success possible.
And yet, when it comes to remuneration, why is there no clear system? Why should actors have to initiate conversations about pay raises themselves? Why should maintaining a good professional relationship mean potentially compromising on fair compensation?
This sounds like exploitation to me, and I’m not talking only about the Aamne Saamne controversy. I’m questioning a system in which people can benefit from the continued success of a production while the actors who help sustain it may have to fight for better pay.
If this is happening in other regional theatre industries as well, it deserves to be discussed openly. People need to speak up and question practices that may have been accepted for years simply because nobody has challenged them.
To be clear, I’m not suggesting that producers must agree to every raise an actor demands. Productions have financial limitations, and those cannot simply be wished away. Nor am I suggesting that every production operates under the same financial circumstances.
But financial limitations and the absence of an established practice are two different arguments.
If a production cannot afford a raise, that is a financial discussion. If an industry doesn’t have a system for reviewing compensation, that is a structural problem. Neither should be used to dismiss the larger question of fair pay.
Perhaps it’s time for the Marathi theatre industry, and other regional theatre industries if they face similar issues, to have an honest conversation about this.
Can there be a transparent system for reviewing actors’ remuneration? Can compensation be linked, in some reasonable way, to the number of shows performed, the duration of a production’s run or changes in the cost of living? Can actors have a mechanism to discuss their pay without having to worry that asking for better compensation might jeopardise their place in a production?
These are questions worth asking, regardless of who is right or wrong in this particular controversy.
Because the issue isn’t whether an actor should get every raise they ask for.
The issue is whether asking for fair pay should have to be an act of courage in the first place.
A play may run for decades, but that longevity is not achieved by the producers alone. It takes the work, commitment and performances of the people who bring it to life, show after show, year after year.
And the people who contribute to that success deserve a fair system that recognises their contribution.
