Home-stay in Pakistan at Boston Playwrights’ Theater

 

Home-stay in Pakistan at Boston Playwrights’ Theater

Review by Andy Hoffman

The last time I saw a play like JADO JEHAD, currently on the boards at Boston Playwrights’ Theatre, was never. Set in the living room of a house in Pakistan, the new play concerns three generations of women who have come to roost with Manzoor, the grandmother and owner of the house. Manzoor’s daughter, Kareema, has come home after her husband divorced her. Knowing how distraught her mother would be, Mashal returns to Pakistan from her studies in the United States to offer her support. Mashal had enjoyed the freedom of American society, relished being herself for the first time, and learns quickly that traditional gender roles in her homeland have not kept up with her growth overseas.

I have no knowledge of what queer life is like for young people in Pakistan; I can’t claim to know much about life in Pakistan, period. I also suspect it presumes very little to say that few readers of this review know much more. But that is a great part of the charm of JADO JEHAD, which translates from the Urdu as ‘endeavor’. The play succeeds on several levels. First, it’s a fascinating revelation of a corner of life few American audiences will know. Second, the mix of humor and drama as the three women grow and change to accommodate their altered circumstances is moving, especially in the performances of Vidisha Agarwalla as Mashal and Jyoti Daniere as her ‘Nani’ Manzoor. Throughout the evening, the audience moaned in recognition of the women’s struggles. And lastly, through a combination of a smart script and some deft directing, the alien domestic challenges become extremely relevant even for non-Desi, straight, and male members of the audience.

The universality of the generational divides hits home regardless of which generation you occupy. Manzoor’s hard-earned faith in Allah grows from her loss of her beloved husband, who died a few years prior to the action of the play. Kareema’s clownish attempts to find herself after a soul-killing marriage and confidence-busting divorce are both laugh-out-loud and honestly human. And Mashal’s life driving like a man on Pakistani streets, visiting lesbian bars, and building a new relationship under difficult circumstances carry the night. The women struggle within and between themselves to uncover both peace and identity in their lives together. Unusual though the setting can feel, that very fact emphasizes that families all have the same challenges – finding love, accommodating to traditions, being oneself while tolerating others being themselves – wherever they live and whatever those traditions might be.

In the after-performance discussion, the playwright, Fatima A. Maan, described her current life in Lahore. Like Mashal, her main character, Maan has endeavored to find her own life after her experiences in the United States. Whether or not the rest of JADO JEHAD reveals her personal life makes no difference, but the authenticity of her voice comes through clearly. Bridget Kathleen O’Leary spoke about the very short window the production team and the performers had to understand rework the play. Together they have created a play worth seeing now, as well as one that will grow and change in the next few productions, as anyone should expect from a new play. I suggest that the next production might be stronger if it found a way to break the monologues into dialogues, created more three-way interactions among the generations, and integrated the coda – which appears to take place a few years after the play’s main action – into the body of JADO JEHAD itself.

I recommend seeing the play first and foremost as an excellent evening of theater and as exposure to the power of new plays. The play also serves as a refreshing reminder of our shared humanity while simultaneously introducing us into the particular reality of modern-day Pakistan. The Boston Playwrights’ Theatre requires audience members to wear masks for the remainder of this season, so come prepared. JADO JEHAD runs 90 minutes and has no intermission.