Succulent mutton, fresh spinach, dhania, jeera, garam masala- these are the star ingredients of the Punjabi delicacy known as Saag Meat. Seema Pahwa's solo performance was the closing show at the NCPA Centrestage festival 2014. The play SAAG MEAT did more than just evoke a memory of the dish's flavors. Straight out of a Punjabi-food lover's dream, the playbill promised that Saag Meat will not only be staged but will also be served at the culmination of the ten-day festival. It was a fine evening at the open-air Sunken Gardens of the NCPA, with just a little bit of bite in the early-December Mumbai breeze as Pahwa glided into her monologue, putting pre-arranged quantities of chopped onions and tomatoes into an enormous aluminum pot slowly simmering on an iron chulha (stove) set on some bricks.
In this solo piece which is both directed and performed by the veteran actor, Pahwa brings to life Sumitra, the protagonist of celebrated author Bhisham Sahni's short story. As she cooks Saag Meat for her unknown guest, Sumitra starts to reminisce about Jagga, her former domestic help who used to make excellent Saag Meat. She fondly remembers Jagga as a committed, loyal servant. Help like him is so hard to come by these days, she laments. Pahwa effortlessly plays the blissfully unaware Sumitra, who passes judgement on others, repeatedly overplays her husband's attributes and accomplishments and undermines her own intelligence and intuition- all with a casual and upbeat insouciance that'll leave you feeling like maybe you're just over-reacting when you start to recognise the inconsistencies and hypocrisies that are deeply at work in everything she talks about.
We find out gradually from snatches of Sumitra's free-flowing recollections that Jagga committed suicide many years ago. We also find out that his suicide was the direct result of an event involving someone close to Sumitra and her husband - a fact that Sumitra found out much after Jagga's death. Sahni's writing is characterised by its seamless concealment of ideas and critiques within hyper-realistic dialogue and in this story too we don't quite know what hit us until he lets it be known. As Sumitra pieces together the story haphazardly, peppering it with seemingly insignificant facts about this, that and the other, we start to get glimpses into the class-based hierarchies that are deeply encoded not only within our social system but even in our day to day language too; in this instance of an upper middle-class Punjabi woman.
Pahwa maintains integrity of her character throughout, never once labouring on a joke or creating a moment of deeper reflection. The result is that her lilting Punjabi accent and her complete commitment to her character's faults makes her nonchalance hypnotizing.
It is nearly at the end of the hour-long monologue that Sumitra's half-questions about whether there was some unfairness dealt to her servant at the hands of her husband and others; questions that she dismisses as quickly as she asks them, that we start to hold her accountable too.
Ignorantia juris non excusat (ignorance of the law excuses no one) is one of the guiding principles for civil society. This piece may be set in a Punjabi household of the eighties, but the message is universal. Turning a blind eye to injustice, even if one is directly not responsible for it, isn't right either - it comes back and haunts us. When we suppress our urge to speak up against injustice, in a way, we are party to the crime as well.
The review is incomplete without a note on the Saag Meat that was served to the audience at the end. It was laid out along with slices of bread, homemade rotis and a vegetarian option of plain Saag (spinach greens) for the vegetarians in attendance. The flavors were spot-on. The saag was aromatic and spiced perfectly. The meat was just a little on the tougher side but tasty nonetheless.
*Saudamini Kalra is a student of theatre and occasionally a poet.
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