Elangovan is not what you’d call a status quo guy. A playwright-director who originally wrote only in Tamil (he switched entirely to English in 1999), he chooses sensitive and occasionally scatological topics, including Muslim divorce (Talaq), the loan shark industry (O$P$) and Indian prostitution (Buang Suay). He had his last play, Smegma, banned, has been brushed off by other artists and endured the scrutiny of critics. His latest production, Transportation (slated for 18 and 19 August at The Substation), focuses on British colonial penal settlements. As he neared the opening date, a charmingly jovial Elangovan talked about his work. 

What’s the new play about? 
It’s a re-look at colonial history, the formation of the East India Company and the European intervention in Asian countries, especially India. I’m focusing on penal establishments. Singapore was one of the central ones from 1825 to 1873, and that’s where the Singapore Management University sits at Bras Basah Road now. I’m mainly touching on the Indians who were brought in to these settlements and used as free labour to build infrastructure. Istana, St Andrew’s Cathedral, Mount Faber – you name it, it was built by Indian convict labour, free labour.

How will you cram all that in? 
My plays don’t usually have a linear melodramatic structure. I’m taking vignettes from history in sort of a memory play. It’s very historical – if I do anything currently political, of course it could get banned again [laughs]. So I’m drawing parallels with what’s going on in Iraq and America with prisoners – history repeats itself. 

Are you trying to be less controversial because of previous backlash? Controversy is a very subjective matter. Anything on the contrary to public interest is controversial in Singapore. And if you want to live as a writer, especially from a minority, it’s a tightrope walk. I’ve dropped too many times but survived. 

Do you have a mission or message?No message. My work is to create an awareness, a social-political consciousness. History is very important. 

But if that’s your goal, does being so controversial get in the way? 
That ‘controversial’ tag has been pinned on me by the national media. I never use the word ‘controversy’. I’ve been writing for 33 years – contributing to this country in two languages. I’m not just an English writer, I’ve written in Tamil as well. So my social conscience and my awareness may differ from the majority of writers. 

You used to work for the National Arts Council – doing what? 
I was an arts administrator for literature, drama, as well as cultural exchanges and, of course, part of the censorship outfi t [laughs]. It’s different being an administrator with the establishment and today being just an artist outside. But there’s a masochistic joy in being an artist. 

Do you find the ‘controversial artist’ tag draws audiences, or does it drive them away? 
Actually it doesn’t help. I stopped writing in Tamil because it was misquoted, misinterpreted and I felt the reach-out for English at the national level is much higher. And my concerns are not simply as an Indian, but as a Singaporean.

How do you respond to the claim that your works are contentious just for the sake of it? 
I don’t think so. If I was being controversial for the sake of it, I should be writing gay plays, like the others in this country. I have nothing against gays, I have gay friends – but gays have their own different agenda and it has become controversial. Another problem is everyone wants to be controversial to be noticed. It’s better to be noticed than to be ignored totally, and controversy sells in most plays. But my plays don’t sell. I lose money all along [laughs]. 

If it’s so tough, why not leave Singapore and work elsewhere? 
Many times I’ve thought of leaving the country for good. But then I’d become another diasporic writer writing from somewhere else, and sitting alone. This is the country where I was born and raised. I feel the issues that surround me are real and belong to me in this situation, so I should tackle the situation here. Unless they put me away for good [laughs]. 

You’ve got a great sense of humour about it, but is it possible you’re being slightly paranoid?I think it’s mutual. They might think I’m paranoid; I’m thinking they’re paranoid [laughs]. Because I don’t have any group, neither do I belong to any political party or have the ethnic mob behind me. I’m just a single writer, that’s all. 

But the subjects you choose are always touchy. Why not just write happy, fluffy plays? 
I can’t. [Laughs] I’d rather commit hara-kiri. 

Transportation is at The Substation 18 & 19 August.