The cross-border tension has not even spared the entertainment industries in India and Pakistan. Plenty of conversations could be heard making rounds about whether to allow Pakistani performers in India or not. The conundrum is similar when talking about sporting ties between the two nations except it's not!
When India plays Pakistan in cricket, both teams are notionally representing their respective countries (although in actuality they are representing the cricket boards); while when working with artistes, you are actually working with individuals and not representatives of a nation.
While generalisations and lowest common denominator politics paint everyone with the same brush, the truth is that artistes often represent the conscience of the society they emerge from. Rock-sufi band Junoon were vilified in their native Pakistan, but adored in India. They were musical rebels in a time when an electric guitar was a ‘western’ taboo for their country. However, they sang about peace and struggle and the experience of being intrinsically Pakistani. As a young Indian kid, it made us realise that the same struggles against conservatism that we were facing, were also common to the youngsters in the ‘perceived’ enemy state.
While politics often focuses on the differences, art ensures that people look at the commonalities. This happens naturally, because when we look at a story as an audience member, we are looking at what we can identify with. That’s we identify and understand even the animation characters or CGI animals on screen.
Unfortunately the other side of the coin is propaganda — usually driven by populist choices. Given the current political climate, you can understand why Bollywood actor Naseeruddin Shah was critical of the representation of the Pakistani characters in Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. It’s very easy to paint the ‘other’ as the two-dimensional villain.
The first Pakistani play that I saw was Ajoka Theatre’s Ek Thee Nani, set in Pakistan, about an Indian octogenarian who visits her sister’s family in Karachi after many years. The play was performed by two real-life sisters, Uzra Butt and Zohra Sehgal. In pre-partition India, both had been part of Prithviraj Kapoor’s touring company Prithvi Theatres, with Uzra getting all the major parts. However, she moved across the border with her husband. Then, Zia-ul-Haq came to power and banned all stage performances in the country. This resulted in a stagnation of Uzra’s craft, and therefore her performance in Ek Thee Nani, was overshadowed by her India-based sister, who had been working regularly for so many years. It did actually feel like two completely different levels of performance. However, what was revelatory was how similar the family dynamics were between the two countries. To the packed auditorium, the play introduced a greater commonality that stripped the conflict of its jingoism, and simply invited us into a Karachi home.
Since then, there had been more theatre in Pakistan. Troupes from India have toured there, too, and a cultural understanding has happened. Recently, I watched a DVD of a student theatre in Pakistan, and it is as rebellious, agitprop and anti-establishment as any piece coming out of Delhi University. In fact, if you didn’t know the origins of the performers, you might easily mistake it for a north Indian campus performance.
There is a huge frustration about the conflict. Sanctions and other political measures may be warranted, but you can't paint everyone with the same brush. It’s as ridiculous as saying all Muslims are members of ISIS. Or all Hindus are caste-ist. It is a dangerous and untrue generalisation.
The artistes are individuals and art is a celebration of humanity, regardless of the notions of nation and nationality. It’s why Manto is still read, and why Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan is still listened to. It promotes understanding of the human condition, which cannot be confined by borders.
Artistes around the world in deeply conflicted areas are coming forward and helping societies heal the wounds, be it in Palestine, El Salvador, or even Ireland. It might just be that we are silencing what could be our strongest weapon to end the conflict.
Quasar Thakore Padamsee is an Indian stage actor turned theatre director. He is also the owner of own Mumbai-based theatre company called QTP (Q Theatre Productions).
