This summer, Niall Moorjani returns to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with Kanpur: 1857, an explosive new play that fuses biting satire, history and heartfelt storytelling. Written, co-directed and performed by Moorjani, alongside fellow actor and collaborator Jonathan Oldfield, the show dives into the bloody uprising against British colonial rule in 1857 India, focusing on the brutal events in Kanpur.
At its centre is an Indian rebel, played by Moorjani, strapped to a cannon and forced to recount a version of events under the watchful eye of a British officer.
Known for work that intertwines mythology, identity and activism, Moorjani is a neurodiverse, Scottish-Indian theatre-maker based in Edinburgh and founder of Suitcase Storytelling Company. Together with Oldfield, they present a unique show with live music that carries emotional weight and contemporary relevance.
Eastern Eye caught up with Moorjani to talk about the power of theatre, creativity, history and their compelling new production, Kanpur: 1857.
What first connected you to creativity?
I have always just loved stories. It was a classic case of wanting to be a writer when I was small. My mum is a really creative human and wrote (though sadly never published) a fantasy book when I was a teenager, which I thought was the coolest thing. Then I discovered I loved acting and became obsessed with stand-up DVDs by Eddie Izzard and Dylan Moran. Those things inspired me so much. But at its core, I think it is a combination of a love for stories and my mum being so supportive and nurturing.
What inspired your play Kanpur: 1857?
The events of the play were the main inspiration. In 1857, hundreds of thousands of Indians in the north rose up to overthrow the British. Hindus and Muslims were united in the cause. Ultimately, they failed, and the British response was incredibly severe. It is a period of history I have always found fascinating, especially the way the British were horrified to receive the kind of violence they had been inflicting for decades. The play was also inspired by events in Gaza.
Tell us about that.
I found the parallels impossible to ignore – a violent (and morally complex) act of resistance against colonialism being met with vast collective punishment. The play is about 1857, but I am highly aware people will think of Gaza while watching it, and I want that.
Tell us about the play.
It is an explosive, satirical take on the Indian uprising of 1857, focusing specifically on the events in Kanpur. I play an Indian rebel who is strapped to a cannon and forced to tell their version of events by a British officer, played by Jonathan Oldfield. There is a trans love story, romance, jokes, drama, betrayal and devastating storytelling. All of this is set to live music by tabla master Sodhi. We have been super lucky to win the Charlie Hartill (global majority) award with Pleasance and cannot wait for people to see it.
Is there a key message you want to convey with the show?
That what the British did in India is still happening around the world today. Colonialism and colonial oppression did not end in 1857, nor in 1947 with Indian independence. These histories speak directly to our present, and we must learn from them.
Did you learn anything new while putting this play together?
Just how complex and messy the events at Kanpur were. And while I was not shocked, it is always fascinating to see how our sources from that time mostly come from the British – in this case, the victor masquerading as the victim. I could speak all day about it, so you will have to come and see the play.
An explosive new play that fuses biting satire, history and heartfelt storytellingPleasance
What was the biggest challenge of writing, co-directing and acting in this play?
Trying to hold the historical detail in my head, while also making sure the piece worked as theatre, was really tough. Fortunately, Jonathan Oldfield was amazing at helping us check in constantly on clarity without compromising on historical rigour. I expected the creative process to be harder, but it was surprisingly organic. Strangely, we often got stuck on small details – like how period-accurate the British officer’s coat should be, or what the opening projector slides should say. Naturally, self-directing is difficult, but co-directing with Jonathan really helped. As did the whole team.
What is your own favourite moment in the play?
I love the big laughs. It is a tough subject, but I am really pleased with how much comedy there is. Those moments bring levity, nuance and hopefully help the heavier parts land more powerfully.
How do you feel being part of this year’s Edinburgh Fringe?
Great. I feel so lucky that we won the Charlie Hartill award. I have done the Fringe so many times on a shoestring, and this has really been a game changer. I feel privileged. The Fringe has its problems, but I absolutely love it, and in real terms, I owe my creative career to it. I love that I have been going for so long. I have a little community I only see during the festival – it is a privilege to be part of that, alongside so many amazing artists.
Why do you love theatre as a medium?
It can and should be anything. It invites us to sit down for a few hours, and then rewards us with something that can be genuinely life-changing. I especially love Fringe theatre – bonkers ideas pulled off in just an hour on tiny budgets by small, immensely talented teams. That is inspiring and exciting.
Why should we all come and watch your play at the Edinburgh Fringe?
Rebellion, cannons, trans love stories and genuinely great satire of the British empire – why should you not?
Kanpur: 1857 is running throughout the Edinburgh Fringe at 15:40, July 30 to August 24, 2025, at Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath). Tickets: www.pleasance.co.uk
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Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5