KARACHI: A dream come true
One of the few scripts originally written in Urdu for the stage, “Khwabon Kay Musafir” was penned by Intizar Hussain about 52 years ago, but the themes it tackles are ones we continue to wrestle with today: science vs. faith, East vs. West, provincialism vs. cosmopolitanism, the lot of women, and the judgmental nature of our society. The success of the play lies in the simplicity of its plot. Kishwar is a young girl whose mother, Booji, is eager for her to marry. Her potential suitors include two cousins of vastly different dispositions, Iffo and Shahid. Like most men, Kishwar’s father, Mian Jan, remains impatient with his wife for constantly fretting about Kishwar’s marital prospects. He would rather chat with his friend, Master, about the arrogance of western scientific innovations than suffer the idle chatter of women. Within the constraints of this familiar scenario, Hussain provides sharp insights into the foibles of human nature.
Although a post-Partition narrative, “Khwabon Kay Musafir” is appealing because it remains relevant. Throughout the play, Kishwar talks to a caged bird and her affection for the bird is quickly understood as a recognition of affinity. Kishwar too is caged, bound by the norms of society that require her to marry of her parents’ choice and be an obedient daughter in the meantime. As Kishwar’s mother and paternal aunt quibble about what makes for a good husband, a tolerable mother-in-law, and an enviable marriage proposal, Hussain hits at familial and gendered stereotypes that endure to this day.
Using wry humour, he also hits out at the superficial nature of our society by commenting on the pathos of social climbers. Indeed, jokes about how many people claim to be Syeds to earn social legitimacy are poignant in a country where merit still matters less than lineage.
The play is also uncannily timely in its subtle anti-Western stance. An employee of a prosperous American firm, Shahid becomes increasingly modern and westernized in a way that the play’s other characters find displeasing. Master’s curiosity about scientific progress is also dismissed as nonsensical. As such, the play can be perceived as a cautionary tale about being too enamoured of the West.
There is, however, one marked difference between the world of the play and contemporary Pakistan. The most charming character Iffo is a young man who is moved by love and motivated by big dreams. Desperate to become a successful entrepreneur, he hatches absurd business schemes – the funniest involves cloth made of glass. Despite his efforts, Iffo’s uncle scoffs at his plans and Kishwar becomes impatient with his scheming. No doubt, the tragic lot of the idealist has not changed, but Iffo’s very brand of idealism would be hard to come by today.
Not surprisingly, Zia Mohyeddin’s adept direction helped emphasise the play’s subtle themes. Aspiring directors should take note of his ability to infuse a realism in the performances that echoes the realism of the script: at no point were any of the actors idle or awkward on stage. Their movements remained natural as they cut chaalia, sewed, used spittoons, enjoyed a shave, draped veils and smoked hookahs, all while effortlessly delivering their lines.
As a result, performances across the board were more than competent. Bakhtawar Mazhar in the role of Booji and Ayesha Khan, who played Kishwar’s paternal aunt, were particularly effective. The scenes in which these two women relaxed on a charpoy while chewing paan, gossiping, and being impatient with Mian Jan were the most authentic. For his part, Ovais Mangalwala as Mian Jan gave a varied performance: while mostly convincing in his role as an irritable yet earnest patriarch, he was prone to screaming some lines, which reduced the nuance of his performance.
Meanwhile, the performances of Aemen Tariq and Ali Rizvi as Kishwar and Iffu, respectively, emphasised the genius of Hussain’s script. Although the acting was mediocre, it was buoyed by the supple language of the script and the audience couldn’t help but be charmed by the young couple in love.
Tanveer Abbas’s set was eye-catching, evoking both the airiness and gritty charm of an indoor courtyard. His use of the revealing set technique, whereby one segment of the backdrop gives way to reveal another set, helped break the visual monotony. Since the rest of the stage was cast in shadows at that time, however, the overall look was incomplete. With a few tweaks, “Khwabon Kay Musafir”, which will run till Jan 20, could qualify as the highlight of Napa’s recent run of plays.