Prince Jacob: One of the undisputed stars of Konkani musical theatre

"I’ve not missed a single Jacob play in two decades. Even if it’s a relative’s birthday, I wish the person in the morning and then run for his play,” gushes Sarita Mascarenhas, an HR professional from Andheri, who sacrifices many a Sunday soiree to attend Prince Jacob’s productions or tiatrs (Konkani theatre) in Mumbai. “I don’t need to visit Goa. I get the news watching Jacob’s plays. He even educates people about not throwing out garbage from windows,” says Ramesh Davakar, owner of a motor-driving school, who rides to Bandra from Panvel on his motorbike to catch Jacob’s plays.

Such tales of fandom are common when it comes to Prince Jacob. For Goans and the Konkani-speaking, this playwright, director, singer and actor is the Raj Kapoor of Konkani theatre. Booking 25-30 seats in advance and watching shows several times over are eccentricities the community indulges in. Fans have helped him set records: from Padri (Priest) – a 2003 play he brought to Mumbai for the third time last month and has completed 350 shows (and counting) – to his writing 25 plays with titles starting with the letter ‘P’, which were suggested by fans who sent him postcards. Save for ads in the Examiner and despite zilch publicity on social networking sites, his plays run to full houses in January and July, the months he tours Mumbai.

Bringing tiatr centre stage

For Goans, tiatr, the 124-year-old musical theatre tradition, is still the numero uno family entertainment in Goa, more glorious than carnival, football and films, says André Rafael Fernandes, author of When The Curtains Rise... Understanding Goa’s Vibrant Konkani Theatre. Tiatr is rooted in the Portuguese word for theatre, teatro. Italian operas were the first influence and during a lull post-1892, it was rebirthed in the clubs of Dhobi Talao by homesick Goans coping with a rapidly-changing, early 19th century Bombay. These troupes went from Bombay to perform in Goa, but after Goa’s liberation in 1961, now almost all troupes are indigenous to Goa. In the ‘80s, tiatr saw a downfall when competing productions indulged in mudslinging. The situation improved in the last two decades when the public didn’t support the behaviour.

Goan troupes now come to Bombay to perform. It’s a thriving industry of actors, musicians, set designers, technicians and organisers involved in 400 productions per year in Goa alone. Annual tiatr competitions by Kala Akademi, Tiatr Association of Goa (TAG) and O Heraldo run into months. And Prince Jacob belongs to the league of tiatr slatwarts like Kid Boxer, C Alvares, Alfred Rose and Ophelia Cabral. 

“I write on socio-political issues, not fairy tales,” says Jacob. While Jacob’s plays mock issues of contemporary hypocrisy through the main plot, the subplot and songs, like in most tiatrs, Jacob’s plays exude a fresh approach to execution and narrative. He was the first tiatrist to dazzle fans with illusions and revolving sets. Examples of plays he writes include: Paap Tujem Prachit Mojem (You Sin and I Repent) about an autistic athlete raped by her coach’s son, who in turn is killed by his father; Rupiya (Money) in which a mother is punished for her baby’s drowning in a bucket and Kenna Utolo (When Will You Wake Up?) on susegad (laxed) Goans. 

To gauge the mood of a Prince Jacob play, one caught Padri – about people expecting divine things from priests and being merciless when they err – at Manik Hall, Bandra, one Sabbath noon. It was a casual affair, Rs200 for front row seats and the rest, Rs150 for a first-come-first-serve jostle. The audience, mostly over age 40, sauntered in with family or friends, relaxed about dressing and demeanour; someone arranged her hair with a pocket comb, another flossed his teeth, others darted for good seats and exchanged greetings in Konkani. Before the curtains rose, not a single seat remained unoccupied. ‘Awwws’, whistles and laughs were aplenty at the changing backdrops and sets painted in UV light, and dialogues and songs punctuated by a live band of saxophones, guitar and piano. Comic timing is king, noticed especially in the scene between Jacob, crossdressing as a Maharashtrian bride to besotted husband, actor Humbert (also Jacob’s elder brother), which drew the most laughs.

Prince Jacob, born Miguel Jacob Fernandes on July 16, 1960, in Fatorda, Goa, was the second son of his father’s second wife. His stepbrothers were bullies to Jacob and Humbert, who had to cut short their education after class 10 since the family wouldn’t fund it. Having put his back to the wall, Jacob was turning into a prankster in class and at home.

But he aced elocution competitions, football, song and drama: a school function was rescheduled when Jacob was unwell to perform. When Rosario Dias’ Chuk Havem Adharli ran short of a child artiste in 1980, a friend from the locality recommended 13-year-old Jacob. “The audience immediately loved me. I was chubby and fair, with golden hair and a happy face,” he recalls.

After completing SSC from Holy Spirit Institute, Margao, he enrolled for a welding and machinist course at Don Bosco, Goa and stole the limelight even there, participating in events and drumming for a band. He was recommended to tiatrist Ligorius Fernandes and at one of his plays, Paapi (Sinner) tiatr veteran Antonio Rosario Fernandes (Roseferns) spotted him and made him part of his newly-formed Roseferns Dramatics Troupe with a role in the production’s debut play, Thapot (Slap) that ran to 100 full house shows. “Jacob was very handsome and a superb comedian. I could mould him like clay and also run my scripts through him,” says Roseferns.

For Thapot’s 75th show on Gandhi Jayanti, 1982, Jacob was pronounced ‘Prince of Comedy’ with a crown and robes to boot. “But the fame never went to my head. My biggest award is my audience,” says Jacob, who has run out of cupboards to house his awards. Adulation from the late stalwart Jacinto Vaz, the Charlie Chaplin of the Konkani stage, matters most to him. “He was my role model. He wrote an article in papers, and even told me with a pat on the back that I’m the next big thing on the Konkani stage.”

With actor friend Milagris and Humbert, who left his job in the Gulf, Jacob started the Prince Jacob Troupe in 1985 with Pinzrem, based on Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors, playing on real-life mix-ups between brothers. “We looked alike: moustached, with the same weight and complexion. My friends helloed him thinking it was I and his friends did the same to me,” recalls Humbert, 58. For the past 31 years, they’ve partnered for roles like Laurel and Hardy and husband and wife. Offstage, they are close and live on their father’s land in conjoined, one-storey cottages.

Like a true tiatrist, Jacob plays with Konkani dialects to hook audiences: the Salcette (south Goa) dialect is used for comic dialogues as it has fewer syllables that make words seem short, colloquial and conversational; the Bardez (north Goa) dialect for serious parts, because it fleshes out each syllable and so pronouncation is at a slower pace. “Jacob doesn’t waste time between scenes. Even the songs in interludes seem like a continuous flow. His style, expression and dialogue delivery has been copied by younger comedians,” says André Fernandes.

No sexual innuendos or lewd gestures lace a Jacob play. “I don’t use sex as a weapon for comedy. I was asked to consider becoming a priest at Don Bosco, which I did but then changed my mind. Now I preach from the stage, choosing to heal, not open wounds. I make my audience laugh for three hours – the same audience that groans when the sermon at mass exceeds 15 minutes. In fact, this Ganesh Chaturthi, three sarvajanik pandals in Goa want us to stage Padri!” says the tiatrist, who reads six newspapers every morning and makes note of funny posts on Facebook and Whatsapp as fodder for future material. He writes all scripts by hand, “not without sipping big mugs of black tea, otherwise I can’t think”, and preserves all manuscripts in his library at home. 

Jacob, also an RJ with Go92.7 BigFm, has a 7-11am show, BigCha. “I put people on air with a issue and ask listeners how we can resolve it. I wrote Zait Zaage (Wake Up) when a listener complained about migrants taking over Goa.”

Prince of principles

A stickler for time, Jacob is proud about reaching the radio station by 5.40am. “If I reach home at 3-4am after a play, I take a bath and run to the studio.” His punctuality has rubbed off on associates, like show organiser Tony Martins. “He reaches the venue hours before the show, accounting for the erratic Mumbai traffic. He starts and ends every show, including the five-minute interval, within the time slot I give him. With him, I’ve learnt to be on time.”

Humbert says people assume Jacob is snooty because he never says hello first. “But he was always reserved. You have a different picture when you speak to him.”

“An old lady came for every show of Pauvnek (Steps) in Margao, watching it from the same seat,” Humbert adds. “After the 30th show, Jacob found out her daughter had polio (like the protagonist in the play). She was hopeful her child would find a suitor, like the happy ending of the play. During the next show, Jacob called her on stage, gave her a memento and told her story to the audience.”

When he was in his 20s, his good looks brought all the girls to his yard, but Jacob was cautious. He never took then-girlfriend and now-wife, Cynthia, on a date during their three-year courtship, preferring to drop by her place with her parents’ knowledge. “I’m very particular about what I say and do. Thirty one seconds are enough to lose the image I’ve built over 31 years.” Daughter, Emrald, 25, an HR professional, is his stepni (spare wheel) who fills in for artistes that back out at the last minute, and son Jason, 18, a hotel management student, was a child artiste in his plays. Non-actors in the family are daughter Jewel, 20, who has stage fright and Cynthia, a homemaker, who also cooks for the artistes her husband invites home after a play. But his kids may not take to the stage. “They are more focused on education and I support them,” he states.

Is it tough making a living out of tiatr? “I built my home and gave my kids the best education, all from tiatr. It’s not easy, but money does come if you work hard.”

Snapshot view

Jacob was the first in tiatr to dazzle fans with illusions and revolving sets. He’s taken his plays to the Konkani-speaking diaspora in London, Australia and the Gulf. Jacob is the ex-director of the Tiatr Academy of Goa (TAG). Apart from being an RJ, he has released 11 music albums, won Maharastra’s ‘Man of the Year’ award and been felicitated by Goa’s Kala Akademi. He acts in Konkani and Marathi films, the last release being Goa Folklore Productions’ Nachom-ia Kumpasar (Dance to the Rhythm), which was shortlisted as the Indian entry for the 2016 Oscars.

The way it plays

Some Jacob plays have been a case in foreboding. Like Roddonaka (Don’t Cry) about a child raped by an MLA’s son, which became a cruel reality in Goa five years later. In Pauvnek (Auction) Jacob had a Doberman on stage, who begs on his hind legs with the female actor. “Actors forget their lines but Kanti (the dog) knew her cue. When the owner took her back, she began to miss us and died shortly after. I put an obituary in the newspaper which said, ‘Lost my artiste’.”For Paapi (Sinner), he cast a disabled boy with no hands in the lead role as a self-reliant individual who provides for his family.