It is Lahore, 1947. Sikander Mirza and his family have a bizarre problem to solve.
There is an old Hindu woman living in the house allotted to them in Pakistan.
Jeweller Ratan Lal is missing since the riots but his mother has been lingering on in the shadows of their dilapidated mansion waiting for him to return. The Muslim family try their best to send her to Hindustan but she refuses adding that she can not be threatened because she has nothing to lose. The Mirzas soon learn that killers can be hired to get rid of her instantly.The question is will they take that step?
Welcome to Asghar Wajahat's classic play 'JIS LAHORE NAHI DEKHYA, WOH JAMYAI NAHI' a play on post partition trauma and communal violence
Had it been 2025, murder or forcible eviction of the old woman may not have been a big deal.
In a 2023 interview, noted film and theatre director MS Sathyu had said,"The situation in the country has become worse than in pre-Partition times because it is becoming more and more communal."
And it is true, worldwide. Divisive, anti-human forces are everyday, attacking thousands of people. Imprisoning, exiling or exterminating anyone they can't tolerate.
But the refugees from Lucknow are old fashioned in their beliefs. To kill someone as helpless and harmless as this woman is unthinkable. Mirza has had to surrender his ancestral home to the authorities to get the Lahore accommodation in exchange. They have endured immense hardships at refugee camps and the family associated to the traditional Chikankari craft are just miserable and apprehensive.
The only option for them, seems to be to share the haveli with the woman.
Gradually they overcome their resentments, suspicions and prejudices and begin to call the old lady Maai. They find that the lady has adopted nearly everyone in the neighbourhood and cares for them as if they were her own family. Through her the newcomers begin to make new friends and they all participate joyfully in Maai's Diwali celebrations.
Mirza's daughter Tanvir (Tanno) then asks her mother
"Ammi if we can live in the same house with Maai why can't Hindus and Muslims live together in Hindustan?"
"Sure they can," says the mother "They have been living together for ages".
"Then why did Pakistan happen?" asks Tanno and no one has an answer.
The title of the play Jis Lahore Nai Dekhya, O Jamyai Nai,' is a Punjabi proverb that is also a nostalgic boast for the once glorious Lahore the confluence of cultures and trade.
The play had premiered at Shri Ram Centre, Delhi under the direction of legendary thespian Habib Tanvir in 1990.
It was subsequently taken up by various theatre groups and staged all over India and abroad.
Thirty five years later the play is still relevant. Translated into Bengali it is currently being staged as ' Lahore 1947" by Sundaram in Kolkata.
The play directed by Biplab Bandyopadhyay follows the original script, but in-between scenes are images projected onto a screen. These are all too familiar tv grabs and abstract paintings depicting the contemporary world of strife and deprivation.
The play captures the pain of displacement. The overwhelming sense of fear and loss. While some of those uprooted frantically seek out items of necessity in the new country like coal, thread or vegetables, there are those who look for a bird they used to see in their native place or fields of bright mustard flowers they once loved.
But people like Pahalwan the local goon and his followers cannot rest easy. They feel that Maai should be deported at once because the presence of a kafir is defiling the newly formed Pakistan.
The real reason however is their desire to occupy her haveli and snatch whatever possessions she has been hiding.
The play puts forward some interesting questions. Who does a house belong to? Do the legal papers of those who built the house on land they had bought carry greater weight than the allotment papers given to new insurgents? When borders shift and countries are born, can someone refuse to leave her homeland? Can she be flung out against her will?
Nearly all the characters, even those drawn with a quick pen have recognisable features. And Sundaram's actors play them beautifully. The close knit family of Sikandar Mirza, his wife Hamida and children Javed and Tanvi (Tanno) played by Subrata Chowdhury, Arpita Sen, Ankan and Debolina Roy, touch the heart. Though initially they believe that Maai's haveli is rightfully their's as a divine reward for all their sufferings, they ultimately refuse to swerve from the righteous path.
Unlike Alimuddin, the otherwise cheerful tea stall owner (played by Manabendra Pal) who is suddenly misled by Pahalwan into believing that Islam is in danger.
Maai, a pivotal role, was well played by screen actress Soma Chakraborty who succeeded in giving a Punjabi tang to the Bengali dialogue.
Moulavi Ikramuddin, played by veteran stage and screen actor Rajat Ganguly, delivers the most memorable lines that help clear the disinformation spread by Islamophobia and hate politics.
The play assures that human emotions and experiences are the same everywhere regardless of borders, religious and cultural differences and it is natural to empathise and coexist.
Masood Akhtar plays a rather lively and loveable role, that of Nasir Kazmi the noted urdu poet who had inspired Wajahat. At one point he says shayars are like those who work signals at railway crossings, whose job it is to check disasters. The director allows Masood to use a happy blend of Urdu and Bengali as he surprises with poetry, perplexes with sharp questions, taunts with cheerful jibes and takes a firm stand for those in the right.
If the play's sound, projections and set design fell short of expectations, the group's teamwork is remarkable.
Sundaram has just celebrated its 69th anniversary and it is heartening to see that the group continues to abide by its commitment to good, meaningful theatre set by the group's late founder president, the legendary actor, playwright Manoj Mitra.
*Sebanti Sarkar is a freelance writer, translator and editor based in Kolkata.
