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Preferring gardening over DIY, the all-important writer and director relationship, and unique reasons for being late for school. All of this and more is discussed in this month's episode of Regrets I've Had A Few featuring award-winning writer, Tanika Gupta.
Told by an Idiot's Artistic Director Paul Hunter in free-flowing conversation with friends and colleagues from the theatre industry, delving into what made them the people they are today.
PAUL: Hello and welcome to Regrets,
I've had a Few.
I'm Paul Hunter,
Artistic Director of Told by an Idiot,
and this is a podcast where I talk
to friends and colleagues, delving into
what made them the person they are today.
Hello and welcome.
My guest this month is one of Britain's
most respected playwrights.
She has written over 25 plays and has had
her work produced at many of the major UK
theatres,
including the Royal Shakespeare Company,
the National Theatre and the Royal Court.
Her work manages to combine the comic,
the poetic and the political.
And she's been described as our most
versatile writer for stage,
screen and radio.
Welcome Tanika Gupta.
TANIKA: Hello there. Hi.
PAUL: Hello.
I'm so glad you could
come in and have a chat.
Now, the first thing I was thinking about
was when we met, and I realised we met
at the Globe Theatre when the wonderful
Emma Rice was running it and I think, were
you one of her associates at the time?
TANIKA: I was, I was indeed one of
her, what they call, creative associates.
PAUL: Yes. And I was very excited to meet you.
I think I was rehearsing something and you
came into the room and I thought, oh, wow,
this is a very very good idea Emma
has had here, to bring Tanika in.
And, because we mentioned the Globe,
I wanted to kick off with a question about
Shakespeare because were you involved
in the Midsummer Night's Dream there?
TANIKA: Yes, so I was the dramaturg, I mean,
to be honest, you know, I did say to Emma,
I'm not really sure what
you want me to do here.
I'm not going to start
rewriting Shakespeare.
She said, no no, I just need you
to kind of come up with a new concept.
And between us, we kind of, really kind
of looked at it together, I think.
I think she was, it was huge fun.
I mean, I wasn't about to start
rewriting Shakespeare.
No but it was.
PAUL: My memory of the evening I spent watching
it was absolutely joyous because I think
whatever you and Emma had cooked
up worked so brilliantly.
And I would, for my money,
I thought it really released
majorly the themes and what the play
is about in a wonderful way.
And I looked around me at a much more
dynamic, younger audience than myself
and they were having a whale
of a time. And,
we'll come to this later because obviously
you've been very successful and very
skillful at maybe adapting something
that exists in one context
and taking it to another.
But I thought we'd start there.
But I will come back to that because I
think it's a very interesting
strand of your work.
But if I could take you further back.
You were born in India, is that correct?
TANIKA: No, I was born in Chiswick.
PAUL: Oh! I'm glad you put me right there.
That's a brilliant opener.
I am so sorry.
So when did your family come from India to Chiswick?
TANIKA: Yes, so my parents came in 61-62.
PAUL: Okay.
TANIKA: They were very young.
I mean, they got married they fell in love
in Santiniketan, which is
Tagore's Ashram, you know,
India's national poet.
And they came over, I don't
know, they were about 24 or 25.
They were very young.
And so I was born in London
and my younger brother was also born here,
but we were brought up very Indian.
We weren't allowed
to speak English at home
PAUL: Wow
TANIKA: You know, all that kind of stuff. And at
the time, I hated it, but now I
realise I'm actually bilingual.
PAUL: Which is brilliant!
TANIKA: Because both my parents made me!
PAUL: I hope my next piece of research is
more successful than my first one.
But, am I right that both your parents
were involved
in entertainment or performance?
TANIKA: Yes yes.
So my father was a singer
and my mother was an Indian dancer.
And the story goes, because
the place in Santiniketan,
the Tagore's Ashram, is an arts place,
it's very much a sort
of avant garde place.
And the story went was that every morning,
because my mum was staying with her
sister, she would hear this man walking
to college and singing as he went.
And she would like run to the bottom
of the garden and try
and find out who he was.
And by the time she got there, big garden,
he'd gone.
And she said that she fell in love
with his voice before she ever saw him.
And we all said, well, if you'd seen him,
you wouldn't have fallen in love with him.
That was their very arty
farty, lots of Tagore, I mean,
absolutely obsessed with Tagore all
the songs, the dance dramas, the poetry.
Every morning I'd wake up to my dad
spouting some Tagore poem.
So
I was very lucky in that respect
that you know the arts very much
celebrated.
And I was told at a very young age I was
going to be a writer when I grew up.
PAUL: Wow. That's amazing.
TANIKA: Yeah
PAUL: That is really -
TANKIA: Yeah
PAUL: Amazing.
And again, it's interesting because
some people have no
arts in their background at all.
It wasn't in my world at all.
My mum was a dinner lady,
my dad was an electrician and we
went once a year to the Panto.
But it must have been extraordinary
growing up in that, did that continue
when they came to the UK?
TANIKA: Yeah,
they set up this organisation,
which is still running to this day,
called the Tagorians,
and they would perform dance dramas.
So basically, as far as I can remember,
in the 60s, every summer, because, again,
they were quite young,
they were in their 20s, early 30s,
they would take a bunch of Indian students
who they would teach how to sing
and dance, and we would go in the minibus
around the European continent,
performing dance dramas.
My earliest memories are of jiggling
around in the back of a bus somewhere
at the age of three or whatever.
PAUL: Wow, Tanika that's extraordinary,
TANIKA: I know, it was amazing.
We went to places like Netherlands and I
don't know why, they were
obsessed with going to Germany.
And we ended up in Nuremberg as well.
Germans loved us you know!
PAUL: So you were kind of part of a kind
of travelling troupe then, really?
TANIKA: Absolutely, yeah yeah.
I mean, again, you don't
appreciate it when you're young.
You just think, oh, no,
where are we going now?
My parents have long since deceased,
but the organisation still goes.
And the relationships I had with those,
I was a little kid and they were like
teenagers, Indian teenagers,
who are now retired
consultants you know in gynaecology or whatever!
PAUL: Thats a wonderful -
TAINKA: Yeah
PAUL: That sounds, to me,
like such an extraordinary
kind of childhood, in a way.
TANIKA: Yeah
PAUL: And I'm also interested by the notion
that you were told that you were going
to be a writer because I could imagine
other people in your situation being told
that's the last thing
you were going to be.
TANIKA: I know.
Well, all the Asian kids in my school were
told doctor, lawyer accountant,
and I was told the opposite.
So I was always a bit,
they always thought I was a bit strange.
But I think probably because my father was
a storyteller, I mean, to be honest,
during the day,
he was a businessman and she worked
at the civil service. But um - he was,
and I think you'd appreciate this,
he was a storyteller.
PAUL: Yeah.
TANIKA: So he loved telling stories about
Mahabharata, the Ramayana or
whatever he read in the newspaper.
And my brother and I were talking about
this the other day,
that he would, he would give us a lift
to school and he would start
a story in the morning in the car.
If he hadn't finished the story
by the time we got to school, we had
to sit in the car until he finished it.
The school bell had gone,
everyone had gone in, and we were still
sat there waiting for my dad to finish.
I mean, it's just like, you know,
a bit too verbose, let's put it that way.
PUAL: Oh, no, that is brilliant when you're
having to explain the reason for your
lateness to your teacher because dad
hadn't finished his story in the car.
TANIKA: Dad hadn't finished the story about
Hanuman and Rama or whatever, you know.
PAUL: Extraordinary.
And did your brother follow
you into show business?
TANIKA: No, my brother is a judge.
He's a lawyer.
PAUL: Okay.
TANIKA: In a sense, he's acting every day.
PAUL: Yes!
I've been fortunate enough to do two or
three parts where I've had
to play in a courtroom.
And the sense of performance
is very connected, isn't it?
And my sister's husband was a judge,
like your brother,
and he always talks about
the theatricality of it
and the theatre of it you know.
TANIKA: Yeah, totally.
I mean, they get dressed up.
PAUL: Exactly.
TANIKA: You know, the wig!
PAUL: Costume, exactly.
So you go to school and obviously you've
got this in your family
and in your background.
Do you remember some of the earliest
things that you wrote?
Or how did the writing emerge at school?
TANIKA: Well I think, again,
because it sort of goes into you without
even realising,
I was always writing little plays
for my friends at school,
so right from the,
I think I remember being at junior school,
like, eight or nine and writing things
and performing them for the class
and writing short stories,
you know there's, you know,
in those days when you were able
to actually write creatively in class?
Once you do your GCSEs, or in my case,
O levels, it's all gone, isn't it?
PAUL: Yeah
And the teachers were very sweet,
they just let us do it.
So, yes, I probably was
writing quite early.
I think I do remember being
one of the ones in class.
I mean, I was a rubbish at everything
else, but I could write a good story.
My stories were always
being read out to class.
PAUL: So you felt encouraged and supported?
TANIKA: Totally, yeah.
And again, you know, I'd bring it home,
my dad would go, "Genius,
you're going to be a writer!"
PAUL: This is so brilliant,
I do also, before I move on from your
extraordinary parents,
have you ever used any of these things
that you're telling me in your
material, in your writing?
Have you ever written
autobiographically at all?
TANIKA: No.
I mean, a lot of people have said to me,
you should write a film about, like
Captain Fantastic or something,
just going around Europe.
I mean, I do remember being in Austria
and being very young, about six or seven,
and my mum always wore a sari
and Austrians coming up to her and,
you can't see it on the audio,
but literally they would come up
and they'd like rub their hand -
PAUL: Oh my gosh.
TANIKA: - up against her skin,
to see if the colour came off.
And then trying to look under her sari
and my dad telling them,
"You mustn't do that because you know
that Indian women don't have
legs because they're mermaids."
PAUL: Oh my god, it's fantastic
TANIKA: I remember thinking as a child, is my mum a mermaid? Is she not real!
PAUL: Well, if you ever do
make this material, it would be amazing.
So I would certainly be there
at the front of the queue.
It's interesting.
I've only had the joy of going to India
once about three years ago we took our
kids out of school over Christmas because
my partner was born in India, in Chennai.
TANIKA: Oh, wow.
PAUL: I said, what do you want to do for your 50th
thinking she'd say, oh, I dont know,
party above a pub? She said,
I want us all to go to India.
I was thinking oh my God.
So luckily, I was working with Emma,
doing Wise Children,
and we had a break for like four
weeks and I said, okay, let's go.
So my son was eight and my daughter was
twelve, and we travelled by train
at night really, but I'm just thinking
when that thing about the
women wanting to look under the sari.
I think my kids, when we shared our cabins
on the train with whole Indian families
and they shared all the food,
my kids have never seen anything like it.
And the engagement was so extraordinary
that it was such a great experience.
Anyway, that's by the by.
TANIKA: Sometimes too much engagement!
PAUL: Yes, exactly.
So you continue this interest
and then how did it,
where was the kernel of thinking, maybe
Dad's right, maybe I could be a writer?
When did that start to lodge?
TANIKA: I had a - I went to university.
I did a bit of creative writing
at university, but I never really
you know, never went anywhere.
I got my degree and then I got
a job in an Asian women's refuge.
PAUL: OK.
TANIKA: Again, my dad was absolutely upset he
said, Why are you doing this work?
I thought you were going to be a writer.
I said, yeah, I am, but I have to actually
earn a living.
And I joined this thing called
the Asian Women Writers Collective
that shows my age,
because, you know, like,
even the term collective
PAUL: Yes.
TANIKA: You know, people like
Meera Syal were there.
This is when we were all very young,
and they did, they were very encouraging.
And I remember I tried to write
a novel and I read some of it out.
They were quite fierce, these women,
and they said to me, no,
no, no, you can't write novels.
Your prose is too -
and I remember thinking, oh, God,
well that's put a shot to that.
And then one of them said to me,
but you're very good at dialogue,
so I think you should write plays.
And here you need to go to this workshop.
And I mean, literally,
these Asian women just, like,
literally sent me off to this
BBC Drama Workshop,
and I went along and they immediately
went, we love your work,
we're going to do it.
And so I had my first radio play produced
as a result of that intervention.
And so I'm very grateful to those, those
really scary women
at the Asian Writers Collective,
because I had my first play produced.
PAUL: How old were you, Tanika?
TANIKA: So I would have been about 26 -
PAUL: Wow!
TANIKA: - At the time.
PAUL: So you actually, because obviously,
you're very prolific as a radio writer as
well as stage,
but your journey professionally as
a writer began more on radio
than it did in the theatre.
TANIKA: Oh, totally.
I wrote for radio for a while and then I
got strangely
kind of like what's the word?
spotted by Grange Hill television.
So I wrote for Grange Hill for years.
I wrote for East Enders for years and then
I couldn't get into the theatre,
because you know what it's
like, it's such an elite thing.
PAUL: Yes exactly. Sadly,
TANIKA: Nobody would even take
a second look at me.
And then I wrote a play,
which I sent to a young director and I
thought maybe she'll be interested, who is
now, her name is Indhu Rubasingham.
PAUL: Yes I know Indhu
TANIKA: You know the Kiln Theatre.
And she went, oh, yeah, this is quite
good, let's take it to The National.
I went and who's the National?
And they, we did a workshop at the studio at the
National back in 95 or 6,
I think it was, and that's when people
started taking notice of me and saying,
why don't you come in?
You know, that usual thing where they
don't commission you or anything,
why don't you come in for a chat?
PAUL: Yeah, that -
TANIKA: So I went for lots of chats -
PAUK: Exactly.
TANIKA: - with lots of people and that's
how it started basically.
PAUL: And did this then become your
first play at The National?
From the workshop?
Did it lead to the production?
TANIKA: No, it was at Soho theatre, actually.
Paul Sirett was the literary manager there
and I think Abigail Morris was running it.
PAUL: Yes, I remember.
TANIKA: Yeah.
And interestingly, the very first play I
wrote, even despite all my qualms, was
an adaptation of a Tagore short story.
PAUL: Ahh thats interesting.
TANIKA: The Tagore short story was about
a skeleton in a cupboard,
which comes to life at night,
and the skeleton is a very beautiful woman
and she tries to seduce
the medical student.
It's a lovely story.
PAUL: That's a great story.
TANIKA: Yeah, yeah.
PAUL: Was your dad around to see that?
TANIKA: No, my poor dad had gone.
I mean, what is interesting is that he
died very young, and in the same year
that he died, I had my first child.
So I was having children and I was trying
to start a new career and I was
working in Islington Council.
So, yeah, I can barely do
one of those things now.
PAUL: The energy of youth.
TANIKA: Yeah I know.
PAUL: It's strange you mentioned Grange Hill
because you're the third guest we've had
on that has a Grange Hill connection.
Because two actors that I've chatted to,
that have worked with us,
Ayesha Antoine and Lisa Hammond, were both
performers in Grange Hill, of course.
TANIKA: Yeah
PAUL: And you realise that was quite -
TANIKA: In the days that I was there,
Sarah Daniels was also a writer on it.
PAUL: Wow. Really?
TANIKA: Yeah Yeah.
PAUL: Gosh
TANIKA: So it was huge fun because it was almost
written like a stage play,
because you write a draft and then you'd
go and rehearse it with the kids
and they'd say things like, miss,
we don't say snogging no more,
we
say
lipping. And you'd go alright, ok, quickly write it down!
PAUL: Okay, I'll change that!
And also, I suppose that it's interesting
that you, in a sense,
made a journey from radio to stage.
Obviously, you continued doing radio
and TV and stuff,
because sometimes it feels when I chat
to writers, that it's often the other way
around, that they start in theatre, and then
they obviously move the other way.
But you touched on something there,
which is obviously absolutely
true about the kind of elitism
of the world of theatre.
And I was reading something
where you, sorry, I'm just trying to find
this quote that you said,
at some point we need to decolonise our
theatres to make British theatre relevant.
Is that something you still stand by?
Do you think anything is happening
in that direction, or what do you think?
TANIKA: I think it's still really slow.
It's not just about race it's about class
as well, isn't
it and gender and all the rest of it.
PAUL: Yes, I totally agree.
TANIKA: And I still think that it's the same old
jobs going to the same people all the time,
which is why it's so wonderful to meet
people like Emma Rice and yourself,
where you're, where we're
doing things outside the box.
It's almost like guerrilla tactics,
where you just go, well,
if you're not going to do my work,
I might as well go and do it somewhere
else, you know, make it, make it happen.
And I think that's always been my motto.
It looks like it's been quite
a traditional, conventional route,
but it hasn't, you know. You just kind of,
you write a play,
and you cook dinner for your mates and go,
will you read it out loud
to me and see if it works.
That sort of thing.
Informal, informal structures of support
where you kind of need to hear people go,
no, you can write actually, that's quite a
good story or yeah, that's a good style.
Because if you only relied
on the gatekeepers, you know, you'd
have no self confidence at all.
PAUL: I couldn't agree more.
And also, I think you mention Emma,
and I think it's so much about the kind
of imaginations you meet along the way
and how you click with those imaginations,
which, you know, don't say, oh,
you're this type of writer.
They describe you as a certain
type of performer or whatever.
I think it's that sense of openness where
you go, oh, we're just making
something together here.
It doesn't have to be
defined in such a way.
TANIKA: No, exactly
PAUL: But the British, as we know,
we love to define something in order
to give it, to understand it.
The ludicrous one for us is we're always,
well, we're often described as
a physical theatre company.
TANIKA: Yeah.
PAUL: We never use that term ourselves anywhere,
because I just happen to believe
that all theatre is physical.
TANIKA: People do things on stage.
If they just were unphysical and just
stood there not doing anything,
then it would be really boring.
PAUL: Exactly, it's a bizarre thing and often
when we've been lucky enough to go
internationally with our work,
they just describe us as a British
theatre company who does new
plays. You know, it's strange, isn't it?
Now, obviously,
things started to happen and what was
the show that you did at the National?
My friend Paul Bazely was
in it. I was trying to remember the -
TANIKA: Oh, yeah, yeah.
It was called The Waiting Room.
That was very early
on so that was in 2000.
And that was -
PAUL: How did that come about?
TANIKA: That was actually, I was on Attachment
at the National Theatre Studio.
So this is after we've done the workshop
there, and they want to, they say things
like, we really like to develop you as
a writer and you want to go,
I am pretty developed by this stage,
I'm probably in my early 30s, you know,
pretty developed.
But it's the language so,
but what they did do was that they gave me
a room and some time and some money
to write, and they gave me another
playwright as a mentor,
and that was a playwright,
Lin Coghlan, a fantastic dramaturg.
And you know, at that stage,
I'd only been writing television and radio
and thought I was the bees knees.
And I remember she said to me,
she read my play and she went, yeah,
Tanika, I think the scenes need
to be a bit longer than a page.
Yeah, all that kind of stuff.
I remember the one thing that she kept
saying is in plays, what you need to do is
you need to scratch the scab,
rip it off and then make it bleed.
I remember thinking, oh, my gosh,
what's she talking about?
But of course,
it's about depth and narrative and,
you know, all that kind of stuff.
Very good.
And then, as a result,
I wrote a play which then got picked
up by none other than Trevor Nunn.
And then -
PAUL: Wow
TANIKA: He said, Oh, I love this
play, let's put it on.
And so I was very lucky and it got on,
I think it won a John Whiting award.
PAUL: Yes, yes.
TANIKA: What was really exciting and, you know, I got to work
with Paul Bazely who's wonderful,
was that they asked me,
and of course it's the National, they go,
who would you like to play the main part?
And I just said, well there's this
amazing bollywood actress
called Shabana Azmi.
What about her?
And they went, yeah, let's look her up.
And I'm thinking, really?
And she came and did it.
PAUL: Wow.
TANIKA: She's like our Elizabeth Taylor in India.
PAUL: Oh my word
TANIKA: She's not really,
she's not really Bollywood,
she's more like Indian art house.
And she,
to this day, I mean,
I still go and see her every now and then
when she comes to stay
in some, you know, swanky hotel.
PAUL: Wow, that's extraordinary that you managed
to, and she came over and that must
have been amazing experience.
TANIKA: It was.
I was a bit like you know on the first day
rehearsal, you think, oh, no, what have
I done? Is it going to be a nightmare?
And actually, she was just she was rolling
around on the floor like everybody
else and you know, just fantastic.
PAUL: That's
amazing. And did Indhu direct that as well?
TANIKA: Yes, Indhu, that was directed
by Indhu yeah at the Cottesloe.
PAUL: I was about to ask you, and also, there can't have been,
I would have thought,
not that many women who had had plays
on at the National before you, was there?
TANIKA: I have no idea.
PAUL: It can't be many.
TANIKA: I don't think so.
I mean, it's still the case, really.
PAUL: Yeah, exactly.
Let's not dwell on that.
But I wanted to ask about directors.
Obviously, you have a relationship
with Indu and with Emma.
What do you look for in a director
in terms of how they respond
to your work, your play?
What are you looking for?
TANIKA: Yeah, I was asked this just the other day.
Do you, can you only work
with South Asian directors?
I just went, no, not really.
I mean, basically,
I just want to work with somebody
who understands my writing,
gets my gags and who is culturally
sensitive, even if that's the word.
I don't even know.
But it's like the race and class
and colour does not really matter to me.
And so that's, and also,
having a laugh to someone,
I really need to have someone laugh
at my jokes continuously,
otherwise it doesn't work.
PAUL: I totally get it.
And I have less and less time now
for being in a room where
you can't have a laugh.
I really do.
TANIKA: Oh absolutely.
PAUL: It's right at the top of our
list at Told by an Idiot for sure.
And I think we try all the time to take
the work seriously, but never ourselves.
And I kind of think it's a good
thing to aspire to, that's for sure.
Now, I was very interested in,
I don't know if this is a new project,
but I was reading somewhere,
it might be on your website, about
you working on a new version
of Hedda Gabler, is that right?
TANIKA: Yes.
So I've done a version of Hedda Garbler
for Birmingham Rep and it's
PAUL: Brilliant.
TANIKA: And it's sort of sitting there now.
It's like all these projects,
we want it yesterday
and then you hand it in and then silence.
PAUL: It sits there.
TANIKA: It could happen.
Who knows?
PAUL: Well, I hope it does.
I was intrigued, am I right that you set
it in the postwar British film industry?
TANIAK: Yeah.
No, I was quite interested
in the character of Merle Oberon so,
she was an actress who worked
on, what was it, Wuthering Heights.
PAUL: Yes, with Lawrence Olivier.
TANIKA: With Lawrence Olivier
And she was actually Indian.
PAUL: Oh I didn't know that.
TANIKA: So, she hid her identity.
I mean, when you go back and you look
at pictures of Merle Oberon now,
you go, yeah, of course she was.
So she was obviously mixed race Anglo-Indian, as they called them in those
days and, but she hid her
identity right up until she died.
PAUL: Wow.
TANIKA: She had an Indian woman who helped her
with the makeup,
probably did a lot of whiting and
said she was just her makeup artist,
that everyone said afterwards
that that was her mother.
PAUL: Wow!
TANIKA: So I was quite interested in the idea
of Hedda Garbler being
like a Merle Oberon style character.
PAUL: I think that sounds fantastic.
TANIKA: Yeah, it could be. Yeah.
PAUL: Through the prism of that play,
that sounds a really,
because obviously you've been very
successful,
Hobson's Choice and Great Expectations
when you're taking something
that exists already.
TANIKA: Yeah.
PAUL: I mean, I was working with some younger
directors last week at the Jerwood space,
and we were talking a bit about adaptation
and I was saying, for my money,
it sounds an obvious thing to say,
but obviously you have to look,
how does it change?
Because if it doesn't change enough,
as we know, then you go,
what's the point in doing it?
You should go and see
that film or read that book.
But finding those ways in which it can change,
is that you just responding
to the particular material at the time.
Like the Hobson's Choice,
for instance, is that you going, OK.
TANIKA: I think with adaptations,
you have to really love the original.
PAUL: Yes.
TANIKA: The other one I did that was the most
successful was A Doll's House,
which was at the Lyric
just before the pandemic.
And Hobson's Choice, Great Expectations,
Doll's House are all some
of my favourite classics.
I mean, particularly Great Expectations.
I love that book.
And I think if you don't love it,
then there's no point in trying to mess
with it, because actually,
you need the respect for the original
before you start, before you
start making it your own.
And so I think it's about setting,
it's about what you want to say,
how does that text speak
to you as a writer?
What is it about that text that you love,
that you think that you can
put your own stamp on it?
PAUL: Yeah.
TANIKA: Otherwise you just think,
I'm just doing it for the hell of it,
rather than because, and with me,
everything's set in India.
I think great expectations
can be great in Kolkata.
No, I can, I can definitely
And a Doll's House would be great
in Kolkata. I mean it's like, sometimes,
I think, so that's why Hedda Garbler was
really nice to actually
not set it in Kolkata.
Yeah.
No, I can do any other
things not just Kolkata.
And, but it is because I love,
and the thing about Hedda that I really,
really, really hated was that she
commits suicide at the end.
PAUL: Yeah.
TANIKA: So at the end of Hedda,
she shoots herself.
So of course I changed that ending.
Not having that.
I mean, it is still Ibsen.
I mean, there is a joke in India that
Ibsen was actually Indian and he was
actually Ib and then dash Sen,
that was his name, he is very very popular.
As is Dickens, of course.
PAUL: Yeah. no, I can understand -
TANIKA: Even the word Pumblechook, if you could do
it in an Indian accent, it sounds Indian.
PAUL: Now I can understand both of those.
Yes, exactly.
I was going to touch very lightly
on regrets, but have you,
is there any particular project?
Because we all have projects
that never quite see the light of day.
I've been banging away at a certain
idea and it doesn't come to fruition.
Is there anything that you regret?
You think, I could have got that over
the line or do you tend
to move on quite quickly?
TANIKA: Yeah, I think that I don't
move on quite quickly.
I keep banging on the same
thing over and over again.
I think in terms of projects,
most of them, if they haven't happened,
I just put them in a draw.
But like, for example,
A Doll's House I wrote nearly ten years
ago, and it took five years
for someone to pick it up.
And so it's really nice when you can pick
something out of your draw and offer it
and go, actually, I wrote this,
and they go, oh my God.
Or they'll go, no,
we don't like Ibsen or whatever.
So it's not so much about the projects,
because I've become
quite wise in that respect,
that I think nothing is wasted,
it will all go in somewhere else.
I think my, in terms of regret,
I think I regret not having gone
into tried to do a bit of acting.
I watch actors and I think, oh, God,
they have so much fun. Why did I, I was
too self conscious as a young woman.
I just couldn't bare the thought
of anyone looking at me.
So I think that, in a way,
most writers are quite
strange people who are not very good
at talking, whereas I think I
would have been a natural actor.
PAUL: I think, without -
TANIKA: Maybe it's too late now!
PAUL: I don't agree with that.
So please don't ignore any emails
that might arrive in your inbox!
TANIKA: Listen, I can't even remember my phone
number anymore let alone lines.
PAUL: And also, I should say Tanika,
our work often has very few words.
It's often visual, so you don't need
to learn any lines or anything like that.
So I'll come back to you on that. Tanika
it's been so lovely chatting to you.
It's been so entertaining.
And to get a brief insight
into your process and your work.
And I'm a huge admirer and hearing about
your family and your background,
it's interesting because, of course,
you realise every culture
has extraordinary stories.
But it makes me think,
when we made a show at the very beginning,
which was inspired by a tiny moment
in Garcia Marquez's Hundred Years
of Solitude
TANIKA: Oh, yes.
PAUL: And when you talk about your mother
falling in love with the voice,
it makes me think of Marquez.
Of course, it's its own thing, but it
resonates in lots of different ways.
And I would urge you to revisit the idea
of trying to make something of your past
and your family, because your dad
sounds an extraordinary character.
Anyway, I always end if it's alright
Tanika with a quick fire seven questions
I'm going to ask you,
and you just say the first response
to these questions whatever
or no response at all.
So my first question is,
do you prefer writing for radio or film?
TANIKA: Both.
PAUL: Okay.
Singing or dancing?
TANIKA: Dancing.
PAUL: Who is the dancer, your mum or your daddy?
TANIKA: My mum.
Yeah.
PAUL: Angela Carter or Muriel Spark?
TANIKA: Angela Carter.
PAUL: DIY or gardening?
TANIKA: Gardening.
PAUL: A road trip or an isolated villa?
TANIKA: Road trip.
PAUL: Top Girls or Our Country's Good?
TANIKA: Top Girls.
PAUL: Now, this is, imagine you
had to do another job.
Would you prefer to be an Outward Bounds
instructor or a shepherd?
TANIKA: Outward Bounds instructor. Yeah!
PAUL: Right.
I can now get on in creating the role
of an Outward Bounds
instructor for you, it's the next Told by an Idiot show. Tanika,
thank you so much for joining us.
TANIKA: Thank you!
PAUL: I hope I bump into you in Muswell Hill and next time we'll go and have a coffee.
TANIKA: Excellent. Thanks very much.
PAUL: Thanks Tanika! Bye!
TANIKA: Bye!
PAUL: Dear listeners, if you've enjoyed this
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