JADAR

★★★☆☆

Based on Pavita Kuri’s acclaimed novel Partitioned Voices: Untold British History, Silence is a new play based on the testimonies of people who survived partition. The title refers to the survivors’ decision to rarely speak about the trauma – ostensibly because it is painful but probably also because we South Asians are a proud people (which has helped create generational trauma).

The play is made up of various segments, each featuring a survivor(s) of partition and/or their descendents. The play not only explores the trauma of the survivors but also the generational trauma that is passed on.

The play opens with a young British couple who are preparing for their marriage. Religiously, he is Hindu and she is Muslim – though neither is particularly religious. Ethnically, he is half English, half Indian whilst she is half French, half Pakistani. He jokes that their Asian sides are more compatible than their White sides.

This opening makes it clear that the play is not just about the history of partition but also about what partition means today – its enduring legacy.

The first act is quite slow but the finale, in which the play addresses the sad reality that religious communities who previously enjoyed healthy relationships were now enemies, is very powerful. The last line – “I still can’t understand: old friend in the morning wanting us dead in the afternoon” – is especially poignant. Just writing it makes me want to cry.

The second act was much stronger and more emotional and hard-hitting. The opening, led by the marvellous Mamta Kaash, addresses the place of women during partition. Olivier nominee Seeta Patel’s movement, whilst delightful throughout, is wonderful here. It’s a fantastic opening.

Another highlight is the heartbreaking story of the elderly Sindi couple, played by Kaash and original cast member Bhasker Patel (it is no surprise that he has been invited back).

Tia Dutt delivers some beautiful acting, at one point silently crying as her father talks about his experience during partition, which signifies the horror of generational trauma. Alexandra D’Sa and Aaron Gill also get time to shine.

Whilst every actor is amazing, Asif Khan is the strongest performer. His characterisation of all the roles he plays is phenomenal. He is awarded an emotive, meaty monologue in the second act. His monologue takes the audience on a journey though it is perhaps a little long for what otherwise feels a bit like a sketch show.

Patel also delivers an emotional monologue, in which he tells us that he was raised alongside Muslims. When partition began, his concerned Muslim neighbours encouraged his Hindu family to flee. He soon joined the RSS, became a Hindu nationalist, and wished death to Muslims. As he grew older, he realised the errors of his ways. He left the stage, his daughter (D’Sa) telling us that his funeral had speakers from 5 different religions (a Hindu, a Muslim, a Sikh, a Methodist, and a Jew).

Silence is beautifully written. It could easily have been preachy and clunky but it has been written with affection and without condescension. The word “silence” is poetically repeated several times, in various contexts, but not enough for it to become a cliché or a gimmick. The title is deliberately ironic because there is hardly a moment’s silence: the play aims to reclaim the narrative by giving a voice to the voiceless.

Whilst the play is artistically ambitious, it could be better executed. The large number of segments render some of them forgettable. The method – one segment after another – becomes a bit tiresome. Whilst the stories are emotional, not enough time is spent with the characters for us to truly get to know them and thus care about them. This allows the characters to be defined by their trauma – when they are so much more.

The two-hour, two-act play could benefit from being a 90-minute one-act performance. It would feel cleaner, clearer, sharper and punchier. Some of the segments could easily be discarded. As a full-length, two-hour production, the uneven tone could be improved by giving the play a clearer narrative or going full abstract – the middle-ground feels a bit flimsy.

Whilst it can be called docu-theatre, it is not quite clear what the narrative is. At times, the characters appear to be filming or recording for a documentary or podcast. At other times, they are just talking to us – but who are we? Why are we here? Why are the characters here? What is the point? We know that the actual point is to address partition but narrative clarity would improve the audience’s connection to the piece.

Aside from the segment on gender, I did not learn loads of new stuff – perhaps I’m well-informed, or maybe I’m just South Asian! Yet, I never felt like, “This was not made for me”, as is sometimes the case with art about the hardships faced by people of colour – which intends to inform and educate a White audience, thus feeling irrelevant to people of colour. Indeed, this play will be eye-opening for many – and for South Asians: possibly cathartic.

Originally directed and developed for tour by the late Abdul Shayek, the tour has been affectionately directed by his friend Iqbal Khan. Set and projection designer Rachana Jadhav, lighting and projection designer Simeon Miller, original costume designer Rose Revitt, movement director Seeta Patel, and sound designer and composer Beth Duke work in tandem to create a production that is both authentic and artistic – with neither authenticity nor artistry hindering the other.

Whilst it could be better executed, Silence is bold, brave, and at times beautiful. It powerfully explores a variety of aspects and experiences of partition, from various viewpoints.

Talk to your elders. Learn about partition. Reclaim the narrative. Don’t let the silence do the talking.

Silence runs at HOME (Theatre 1) until May 4 – the final stop of its UK tour.

Photo: Harry Elleston