‘Plays from a Fractured Land’: Theatre of Partition plays out

Sarika Sharma

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First came the poem, the most stirring among the lot being Amrita Pritam’s iconic lament to Waris Shah. As the shock of the sudden Partition waned, along came short stories and plays counting the losses, trying to come to terms with the realities that Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs on both sides of the border were left to deal with. Some of these plays have been compiled by Atamjit, playwright and critic, in this anthology published by Sahitya Akademi. The sheer range of playwrights that he manages to bring together in the book is amazing — from Gursharan Singh, who was born in pre-Partition times, to Shahid Nadeem, born in 1947, to Gurpreet Singh Ratol, one of the youngest playwright-directors around.

The anthology begins with a powerful play, Pakistani playwright Shahid Nadeem’s ‘River of Sorrow’, brought to English readers via beautiful translation by Ameena Z Cheema. Despised by society for being unable to bear a child, Mubeen seeks her end in the river’s currents. But the river brings her to India. Assaulted by a cop, her womb bears fruit. The daughter is an Indian citizen, but Mubeen isn’t. The law threatens to tear them apart. Mubeen and her daughter seek refuge in the river. This time, the river welcomes them. Just as Mother Earth had opened her heart to take in Sita.

Two themes from the play — fate of women in conflict zones and the misfortune of children of war — run through the book. Abducted, violated, converted, married off to unknown men, women were expected to forget past lives and take on new roles in changed circumstances that most often panned out in countries these women didn’t get to choose for themselves.

The writers contributing to ‘Plays From a Fractured Land’ are diverse in experience and outlook; this shows in the vast range of plays. While Atamjit’s ‘No Man’s Land’ is a moving take on Saadat Hassan Manto’s tragic tale ‘Toba Tek Singh’, Swarajbir’s ‘The Bridge of Siraat’ elucidates the madness of those times in the mindless chant of a mad woman: “Naamo has two sons… Naamo has two husbands… Naamo has two countries… Naamo has two Wahegurus…” Gurdial Singh Khosla’s ‘Homeless’ is about refugees picking up the pieces in their new country; Gursharan Singh’s ‘Munshi Khan’ reiterates that religious markers may not mirror matters of soul; ‘The Lost Village of Dhrabi’ underlines universal brotherhood. Ajmer Singh Aulakh’s ‘Blind Shooters’ traces the rise of religious fanaticism through Partition and Punjab militancy — 18 onlookers paid the price with their life as militants disguised as Armymen attacked a performance underway at village Sewewala near Jaito in April 1991.

In the last 74 years, several Punjabi litterateurs have visited Partition in their works. The bar, however, has been set so high by Manto, matching it is a challenge for any piece of prose. What Punjabi playwrights have managed to achieve, and this is no mean feat, is shun narrow nationalism of any hue. As Atamjit notes: “…rather, they seek to reinforce the roots of the traditional solidarity among different communities.” If only our leaders, who want to remember the horrors of Partition, realised this basic truth.