Ank could not have chosen a more tragically suitable time to stage Asghar Wajahat’s classic play about Partition, “Jis Lahore Nahin Dekhya…”
Because all the inhumanity and godlessness of the monstrous times of Partition are with us again today. And, as the elections draw nearer, men and women who speak in the name of religion and culture will accelerate their diabolic programmes to breed hatred and win power.
The signs have already begun to appear. The first pre-election victim of the Hindudtva brigade is the venerated Habib Tanvir. The two plays that are putting God’s fear into them is “Jis Lahore Nai Dekhya…” and “Ponga Pundit,” a folk play that has been written and performed by Chhatisgarhi folk artists for the last 70 years. “Ponga Pundit” has angered these pseudo-Hindus because it attacks untouchability, hypocrisy, and priest craft, which form their ideological foundation.
But of course, the reason they cite is different. Somebody in the play walks into a temple with his footwear on, they say and that offends the sensibilities of Hindus. The trick is to tear something like this out of context so that, by itself, it looks sacrilegious. But within its context, the man who walks into a temple with his footwear on is the village simpleton.
When the priest asks him not to do so in God’s dwelling, he asks, “Can you tell me a place where God does not reside?”
‘God is everywhere and in everything’ is a thought that all our sages and mystic poets have reiterated over the ages. The other falsehood being spread is that the play has been written by Tanvir. His Muslim name acts like a red rag to the herd that follows all fanatics. Their anger makes them deaf. They will not hear you tell them that it was written in the 30s by two folk performers named Sitaram and Sukhram.
With the other play, ‘Jis Lahore…,’ one can see straight away what has given the Hindutvavadis the shivers. You simply had to be present on Sunday night at the packed Prithvi Theatre to see the effect it has on the audience. The largely Hindu audience was not only not offended, it was deeply moved. There is truly nothing in the play that would offend anybody who doesn’t live off hatred and, as the Marathi saying goes, ‘who doesn’t look to baking his chapatis on communal conflagrations.’
The play talks of the preciousness of home, which isn’t necessarily where others of your religion live, but where you were born and bred. It is where the soil and its smells are yours, where all your memories are rooted. The play speaks of the futility of hatred and violence, contrasted with the tremendous power of love, compassion and understanding.
The blackest characters in the play are the man called Pehelwan and his sidekick, who spew venom at Hindus in the name of Islam. They kill the maulvi who tells them gently that Islam teaches respect for other religions and stands against anger and hatred. Such a man to them is more hateful than the kafir. They kill him viciously while he is in prayer.
There could be no greater proof of godlessness than that — to kill a holy man when he is in prayer. Gandhiji too was killed in prayer. There is a diabolism in such an act that is peculiar to all fanatics. In their warped thinking, this ultimate sacrilege against God and man is the final test of their love of god and country!
When this play is performed by Habib Tanvir, do Hindutva fanatics see their reflection in the face of the pehelwan? They probably do and hate Tanvir for showing it to them.
At Prithvi that evening, after a performance that won the large Ank cast a thunderous ovation, Dinesh Thakur, the director stood before us, his entire cast behind him, to make a fervent plea. Hatred, bloodshed, rape and arson have got us nowhere, he said. Let us give love a chance. As I write this, news is coming through about the bombings in Mumbai. And the desperate, despairing question is, can love turn terrorists into human beings?