Then the folk singer Mai Nimani belts out a sonorous tune at the start of the stage play The River’s Daughter, the authority of her voice holds a thematic significance which extends beyond her vocal mastery.

Nimani’s village in Tando Adam, Sindh, was wrecked by the floods which tore through Pakistan in August, 2022. Her story mirrors the stories of many, which is why Nimani’s presence and participation in a theatre play which explores these themes is of particular importance.

The multi-faceted Arieb Azhar reveals that he had to carry out bucket-loads of research in order to write The River’s Daughter, and it’s easy to understand why. The play — staged at the National Academy of Performing Arts (Napa) and directed by Kulsoom Aftab — tells the story of Marvi (Amna Ilyas), a spirited woman determined to protect her goth [small village] from the unrelenting advancements of an expansive real estate project, led by Umar (Fawad Khan).

At its core, much like Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai’s folktale Umar-Marvi upon which it is loosely based, the play explores what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

The River’s Daughter, staged recently at Napa, simultaneously achieves two objectives which most Pakistani theatre plays rarely attain — it both enlightens and engages

However, Azhar manages to elevate the source material by centring his play on the challenges faced by indigenous communities in Pakistan in the face of forced urbanisation. The play addresses an array of wide-ranging themes such as forced displacement, encroachments, the dispossession of one’s land, the ecological ramifications of unbridled real estate ‘development’, and many others.

My biggest gripe usually with stage productions at Napa’s Zia Mohyeddin Auditorium is the limited staging techniques employed by directors. Take for instance the gulf between the seats and the stage. Oftentimes productions at Napa, in particular those helmed by theatre directors of a more classical leaning, have done little to bridge these two islands, thus resulting in a clear demarcation between where the story is told and where it is received.

Fortunately, Aftab’s directorial sensibilities are informed by more modern staging techniques, such as the ones employed by the experimental Belgian theatre director Ivo van Hove. For instance, while the Belgian seated a chunk of the audience on stage right next to his actors for his masterful revival production of Arthur Miller’s A View from the Bridge in 2015, Aftab instead opts to bring the performers to the viewers.

The actors, musicians and singers regularly descend the steps of the stage to deliver their lines at the audience’s doorstep, and entire scenes, musical performances and dances play out in this space which a lesser director would have failed to utilise.

Contrastingly, the real estate developers sit perched atop a raised set, removed and aloof from the rest of the cast and audience. In fact, as the play progresses and Umar finds himself increasingly disillusioned with his colleagues, he descends from this ivory tower and moves ever closer to the residents of the goth, both figuratively and literally.

Ilyas’ performance is both rousing and impassioned, and measured and vulnerable when the script demands it. Given the dearth of well-conceived original characters written for the stage in Pakistan, particularly for women, Ilyas’ role could be considered an actor’s dream, simply because of the range and depth it allows her to showcase.

She is equal to the task, as is Khan. One of the mainstays of the Napa stage, Khan has regaled audiences with his mastery of Dastangoi and has also played a great many characters on stage, my favourite being his tempestuous portrayal of Mercutio in Zia Mohyeddin’s Urdu adaptation of Romeo and Juliet last year.

Khan has that rare ability to slip into whatever role is handed to him, and he’d probably receive more plaudits and parts on the screen if he didn’t have the misfortune of sharing his name with a certain other actor.

Speaking of commanding thespians, the last time Azhar acted on stage was in a play helmed by his father, Aslam Azhar, in 1988 — but you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise. His stentorian voice and nimbleness on stage as the conniving Tota Sain give him the appearance of a theatre veteran. Evidently, what he learned from his father at Karachi’s Dastak theatre group in the 1980s has held him in good stead.

Sheema Kermani does what Sheema Kermani does best — hold court. Her character not only acts as a mentor and moral centre for the villagers as they take a stand against the real estate giant, but also represents the integral role played by the river in the lives of this community, and the sustenance it provides.

Inarguably, this is a fitting role for someone who has spent her life advocating for social justice, and gender inclusivity and equality. Komal Hayat, Syed Qasim Shah and Zubair Baloch are all equally memorable as residents of the goth, as are Syed Vajdaan Ali Shah and Samhan Ghazi as members of the real estate Bandobast Corporation.

Upon the play’s conclusion, the UK-based co-producer of the show, Yasmin Whittaker Khan, took to the stage to announce that they intend to carry out a dramatic reading of the play in London. That’s all well and good but, much more importantly, this play needs to be staged in other parts of this country and in front of a more diverse audience.

I’d be infinitely more interested in knowing what people residing in localities where they are actually facing these challenges have to say about The River’s Daughter as compared to what some Londoner thinks.

The River’s Daughter was staged at the National Academy of Performing Arts (Napa) from May 25-31, 2023 The writer is a member of staff. He can be reached at hasnain.nawab1@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 4th, 2023