Experience of play : Enter at Your Own Risk

“Ajj Aakhan Waris
Shah Nuu, Kiton Qabraan Wichon
Bol, Tey
Ajj Kitaab-e-Ishq Daa, Koi Agla Warka Phol” – This poem of
Amrita Pritam is rendered in many occasions in different contexts describing
pathos of partition and that of women. Last Sunday i.e. 19^th June
2022, I watched a play called Enter at Your Own Risk (EaYOR). This play also
used this song in Gulzar Saab’s voice as a background score to emphasize a
powerful narrative. I couldn’t focus on the stage for the entire duration of
this song as I was deeply affected by what happened on the stage just before
the song began, and also while it was on. My vision blurred as I was sobbing
and I couldn’t keep my head high as it was down with shame.  These sentiments are very unusual for me as
an audience. That made this seditious play special. It is a powerful portrayal
both with words and visuals.

Manto on stage is not
a new phenomenon. Any serious theatre enthusiast must have come across Manto’s
work in one way or the other as his work remains contemporary, across space and
time. EaYOR stands apart in its “Rang De Basanti-ish” treatment in
contextualizing Manto’s work from all the way 1947 to 2017 and beyond. It
connected “then and there” so meaningfully with “here and now” – over time. This
play for the first-time connected Toba Tek Singh with Bashir, Sakina with
Shafina, Kashmir with Nagaland and Manipur, Gujarat with Hathras in Uttar Pradesh,
and Police with Armed forces. The connecting thread in all these connections was
the brutality of the powerful persons on the powerless persons.  Needless to say, women would be at the intersections
of multiple identities of powerlessness. However, it is always easy to pollute
all narratives of brutality with religion – be it during the partition or in contemporary
India. True to the essence of Manto’s stories, this play did not highlight any social
identities in particular. And, that was a big plus of this play. Not making
this a Hindu Muslim narrative is an important aspect of this play.

The play started in men’s
space. Depicting the story of Toba Tek Singh, the stage was full of men for quite
some time in the beginning.  With a man as
a director and presumably writer as well, I thought it would be yet another mansplaining
of women’s issues.  The first woman
character came almost halfway through the play, and then came a few more. They
came, and how! They first entered as daughter and mother in a family set up,
and then got extended in a market set-up adding one more female character. One
more addition was followed in a scene reminiscing the powerful short film Devi
and then culminated in Khol Do, followed by the most powerful sequence that
made me cry.  This very powerful
on-the-face narrative of women, by women with amazing visuals and actions, left
a very lasting effect and remained the most important element of the play.

In terms of the
craft, the use of space with black cyclorama, white curtain, and the tree was done
tastefully. Minimalistic properties and metaphoric use of the ladder, globe, transistor,
flag, and tailoring machine added to the ruthlessly brutal narrative that Manto
is known for. The script neither replaced explicit words that Manto used in his
stories nor diluted the tone of the stories. The metaphoric use of salwars and pillows
were examples of some of the best theatrical creativities.  The conscious refusal to make the narrative palatable
by offering bitter truth in sugar-coated ways generated its intended effect. As
an audience, the reality hit me hard on my face and generated emotions that were
difficult to digest. In some sense, it is the portrayal of Manto’s famous
argument of “Nakabile Bardasht”.

Throughout the play,
the questioning of the establishment remained subtle and yet dominant. This is
upped by meaningful parallel questioning of the role of the society by breaking
the fourth wall in the form of comments and questioning to the audience. Some
of these non-verbal interactions through the deep gazes of the three women characters
were so powerful that it was impossible to not engage with them.  Similarly, the revelation of Bhim Singh and
Bashir culminated aptly to weave the pathos of abuse, brutality, and trauma of women
and men alike.  These silent gazes
culminated in the climax when all the characters sat in silence probing the
audience with sharp glances.  This long sacred
silence was yet another powerful departure from conventional ways in which a
play end. In some sense, this silence did not make the audience speechless; it helps
the audience appreciate the speechlessness achieved in the play.  In those few seconds, these stoic nonverbal inquiries
reminded me of the classic question: What were good Germans doing during the
holocaust?

I have been becoming a
‘good German’ of the 1940s after steadily losing interest as well as the courage
to speak up against the wrongs in society.  EaYOR came to me as a reminder of the
importance of such actions, howsoever futile and insignificant they may
appear.  Surrounded by women of different
ages and stages, I am generally sensitive to gender and women's issues.  And yet, this play made me mindful to keep
exploring – Is this enough? Am I doing enough?

Very few plays
address and explore classical literature in contemporary ways.  Fewer talks about physical, social,
psychological, and sexual brutalities on powerless men and women. In this void,
this play is a very meaningful contribution. 
It is so wonderful that clapping for the efforts is illogical,
inadequate, and inappropriate.  I can
only write about this experience and bow down to the entire team, especially
the three female protagonists that had tremendous courage to perform in the they
did!