Every time Dolly Basu faces an audience, she gives them, something to write home about. It was no different when she adorned the garb and soul of Pakistani women, slipping from character to character, churning one story after the another. Antar Hote Udaasi was a class act that left the crowd spellbound. Based on four short stories
from Pakistan, Dolly and her troupe Choop Katha recently performed at Kolkata’s Palladian Lounge. “I chanced upon the Hindi version of Pakistani Kahaaniyan: Pachaas Saal ki (Pakistani Stories: 50 years of storytelling). Perhaps I was having the urge to look beyond Saadat Hussain Manto. The famous Pakistani writer has been a particular favourite in the Indian theatre scene,” reveals the renowned theatre personality. While the Manto monotony took a backseat, it was also an opportunity to peep into the minds of writers across the border. She says, “These are post independent tales. I explored those that could be transformed as stage adaptations.” The result was four outstanding stories, subtle yet hard-hitting, each distinct yet bonded by a common feminine theme.
Sindhi story: Maang (Demand) by Jamal Abro
Dolly portrays a mother’s pain as she mourns her daughter’s honour killing. “Sadly, the word honour killing is not exclusively reserved for Pakistani society. Time and again India too witnesses such gory murders,” says Dolly. “It is not always about gruesome murder, sometimes women are sacrificed at the altar of customs. Her self respect is trampled. Such instances kill her softly and repeatedly,” she adds. Married at a young age to a much older man, the protagonist’s daughter finds love in a young man. The male members of her family unearth the secret liaison. What follows is a ritual of carnage in the name of morality. While ruing over her helplessness, Dolly’s character stunningly attaches a gender to the indifferent authorities, “ye hukumat bhi mard zaat” (this male chauvinist government), she cries out. The words are certainly the defining moment of Maang.
Urdu story: Antar Howat Udaasi (There is sadness within) by Bano Qudsia
A silent sufferer, an object of sexual gratification, a tool of procreation and finally a stigma. “This story reflects the life and times of a woman whose poverty-stricken existence compels her mother to marry her with a mentally-challenged rich man. Their handicapped marital life fails to produce a scion. But the urge for an heir is so strong that her father-in-law persuades her to share his bed. The act of perversion does produce the desired result but it also raises accusing fingers at the young girl. Later in life, the same charges of moral deprivation come back to haunt her when her son questions her. It seems passing judgements on a woman’s character is everyone’s business,” feels Dolly.
Urdu story: Ek sau chautiswa darwazaa (134th door) by Nasreen Kharal
Sometimes for women, there is no dignity even in death. At the crack of dawn an old woman discovers an unclaimed dead body and rushes to report at the police station. She faces discouragement, rebuttal, indifference as the officers shirk their responsibility and make her run from one police station to the other on the pretext that the matter doesn’t fall under their jurisdiction. “Their first reaction is to draw conclusions about the deceased’s character. They dissuade the old woman for getting entangled and even objects that instead of a male member, she is dealing with the issue. Ironically, in real life such scenes are not restricted to rural areas, urban and educated women too face similar experiences,” points out the actor, director.
Baluch story: Mehshar (Judgement Day) by Ghaus Bahar
It’s judgement day but an old woman falls asleep and misses her accountability test. The lapse has left her stranded and she tries to hard to find her place in the after life sun. Desperate, she knocks at heaven’s door, only to be stopped, a list check reveals her name doesn’t figure there. Then she reaches a transit area, reserved for those serving a restricted time as punishment before eventually making it to paradise. There too she finds no luck. Finally she reaches hell. The woman looks around and finds the inmates trying to protect each other from the flames. Scared and confused, until she spots a ring of fire where people are pulling each other to the flames. They are pouncing on a burnt and scalded woman. She says: “These are trademarks of my people.”