Sawa Chauda August: Memoirs of our leaders
The room turns dim and an amalgamation of accusatory sinister voices floods the air accompanied by sickly green fluorescent searchlights all across the dark room. The voices are tangible enough to bounce off your skin which dramatically heightens the sense of foreboding. Suddenly it all stops and you’re allowed to come out of your trance to see two young men sitting on the train platform in Lahore with a stationary (obviously) train behind them. It’s the Pakistan railways and it is the basic symbol of the play that explores Pakistan as a failed nation state. David Fernandez (Ishtiaq), the railway cleaner and the Cooli (Bilal Yousufzai) indulge in some healthy banter and rail against the sorry state of affairs of the nation as any natural observer and citizen does, till the station guard (Moiz Hasan) shows up. Hasan’s performance is endearing and he seems to be fashioned after the lovable Hardy from the Laurel and Hardy series. He tries in vain to deter them into being productive but they point out to him that there is no business, so they have no business being productive. Due to his own corrupt disposition, the stout supervisor is no position to rat them out and succumbs to leaving them to their own devices.
As Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (Waseem Waheed) enters the stage, the audience, as if mimicking the poise of this supposed symbol of secularism, sat up straighter. Simultaneously, with a hunched back, characteristic dark circles and an overbearingly ominous demeanour walks in Bhutto’s mortal nemesis. With the entrance of Zia-ul-Haq (Gohar Rasheed) viewers uttered an audible and unanimous hiss much to the reflection of his continuing effect on the people of Pakistan. There is a political, social and snide to and fro between the past leaders and the present blue collar spokesmen for the awaam.
Every political party is given a sound opportunity to fend for itself but it is countered by an opposition that exposes its hypocrisy. Four ardent female supporters enter and are portrayed in such a cringingly naïve light that it’s hard to distinguish whether the idea is to humiliate women or PTI supporters. Zia-ul-Haq, after trying to modify them into modest maidens warns them that it will be their darling ‘ImmiKay’ who will be the first to hand the four of them over to the Taliban.
After the initial chaos dies down, Muhammad Ali Jinnah (Zahid Ahmed) dressed in an immaculately pure white suit descends the stairs. From the very beginning we see that he is resigned and prepared for devastation. Despite this his back is straight, his movements are slow and deliberate, his reactions moderated and he exudes the personality of a man not to be trifled with. You know that this is an actor but you involuntarily admire him, it is impossible to not let your gaze follow him around stage and register every nuance of his face, a smile, a subtle crease on his forehead, the unexpected tremble of his chin at the ruins of his pride, his prestige, his Pakistan.
There is little to gain from narrating the play as it is not one that can be done justice in words. It is a play to be heard. The wordplay is fantastic and ruthless. No one is spared and nothing is censored. Anwar Maqsood lays bare the utter insincerity of every politician, every political party and every political supporter. We are shown that words are dead and made up and for the ultimate ruler, the rules are for everyone but him. Yet we are given a glimpse of these leaders and what attracted us to them in the first place. Bhutto’s legendary oratory is relived as well as Quaid’s ferocious determination. There are moments in the play where you feel you are in the presence of the actual legends.
There were several glitches in the music and at times it felt like it was imposed to add to the emotional appeal of the play. Commercialisation is a formidable ideology and it led to some exaggerated acting by the actors, especially Bhutto. Gohar Rasheed was astonishingly accurate in his portrayal of the hateful dictator and as an actor he is someone to look out for as promising upcoming talent. On the whole however, there is a reason why Anwar Maqsood can be boastful, his work speaks for itself and there is no way playgoers can tire of the side-splitting humour and the reality of the dire situation that is mirrored back at them.
—Images by Shameen Khan.
**correction made from Studio 3:15 to 2:45