ACCLAIMED play Peaceophobia makes a return after a sell-out premiere in 2021, with immersive shows at Norfolk & Norwich Festival from May 18–21, and at Brighton Festival, May 25-29.
The unique experience staged in a carpark brings together motor vehicles, theatre, cinematic lighting, and an original electronic sound score. The show co-written by acclaimed playwright Zia Ahmed revolves around three Muslim Pakistani men growing up in the shadow of the Bradford Riots, 9/11 and police harassment, who use cars and faith as a sanctuary.
It is co-directed by young women from Speakers Corner, and Eastern Eye caught up with the creative collective’s Mariyah Kayat to discuss Peaceophobia. The co-creator and co-director also spoke about the key messages of the distinctive play.
Tell us about the Speakers Corners collective you are part of?
Speakers Corner is a female-led, social, creative, and political youth collective based in Bradford. We create campaigns that focus on issues important and relevant to young people. This can be anything from mental health and body image to international activism.
What led towards the creation of the play Peaceophobia?
Peaceophobia was born out of multiple conversations and a response to ‘Punish A Muslim day’. There were a lot of conversations around how the men in our families have public facing jobs and there was a lot of fear towards that. This was also combined with how Muslim men are portrayed in media, especially young men from Bradford. There was also a recognition of the car culture in Bradford and how this is spoken about and shown in media. We wanted to show the modified car scene as a way of art, and a talent.
(Photo: Ian Hodgson)
Tell us about the play?
The play explores cars, car culture and Islam. Throughout the show the actors share stories of their experiences with Islamophobia on a personal and institutional level. The show also explores how Islam is woven into and is part of their lives. The show is created to invoke conversations and allow people to see and learn about a narrative that is from the young men directly.
What was it like being part of such a large collective directing the play?
Being part of a large collective, co-directing was an amazing process. It allowed each actor to have a personal director. It also allowed there to be various creative ideas and for us to all have a certain focus and learn about different aspects of creating a show.
As a female collective, why did you decide to direct a male-dominated play?
Throughout the years, Speakers Corner have created campaigns and built a strong platform. We wanted to use this to create bigger work that impacts different people. The idea itself for Peaceophobia came from Speakers Corner and was first a campaign. When it became a play, it felt right that we were still involved in the creation of the show.
What was the biggest challenge of creating something in a unique setting?
The biggest challenge was adjusting the set to work for us. It was more technical difficulties that challenged us.
What is the key message of the play?
The key message is to show the journey and experiences of these three young Muslim men from Bradford. It is to create conversations around issues that are usually portrayed negatively in the media and to offer another perspective.
Who are you hoping it connects with?
We are hoping to connect with other young Muslims who may see themselves or someone they know within the show. But also, people who aren’t south Asian or Muslim, as it’s important to have these conversations and to share experiences with other people.
Why should we come and watch your play Peaceophobia?
Peaceophobia is a show that is unlike any other. It explores issues around Islam and Islamophobia in a real way that isn’t abrupt. It allows you to see the joy and beauty in brotherhood within the actors and their love for cars through art. It shares emotional, funny, and actual stories of the actors.
Peaceophobia is being staged at Rose Lane Car Park in Norwich, as part of the Norfolk & Norwich Festival, from May 18-21. Visit www.nnfestival.org.uk and at Brighton Marina Car Park in Brighton, as part of the Brighton Festival from May 25-29.
Visit www.brightonfestival.org
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A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
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