Pramod Thomas is a senior correspondent with Asian Media Group since 2020, bringing 19 years of journalism experience across business, politics, sports, communities, and international relations. His career spans both traditional and digital media platforms, with eight years specifically focused on digital journalism. This blend of experience positions him well to navigate the evolving media landscape and deliver content across various formats. He has worked with national and international media organisations, giving him a broad perspective on global news trends and reporting standards.
A STAGE adaptation of A Thousand Splendid Suns is a celebration of women’s strength and their ability to endure, its playwright has said.
Irish Indian writer Ursula Rani Sarma, 47, worked on Afghan American author Khaled Hosseini’s novel for a new production which opens at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre next Friday (11).
The novel tells the story of two women united by circumstance in 1990s Afghanistan. Set against the backdrop of civil war and Taliban rule, it follows orphaned Laila, who becomes the second wife of neighbour Rasheed, and his first wife Mariam.
Rani Sarma told Eastern Eye the core message in the play is about love and resilience that ultimately leaves one feeling the world might be all right.
In an interview, she said, the American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco approached her to adapt the book.
“I had previously worked with them and written a play, and they felt my artistic sensibility might be a good fit for the adaptation. When I met Hosseini, he gave me considerable freedom. He explained that a novel cannot be a play and must exist as its own entity,” she said.
“He suggested that since he is not a playwright and I am, I should feel free to recraft the material.”
Directed by Roxana Silbert, the cast includes Rina Fatania (Mariam), Kerena Jagpal (Laila), and Jonas Khan (Rasheed), among others.
Rani Sarma said, “The adaptation took around two years, which is not particularly long for a theatre piece. I would typically spend about six months writing the first draft, followed by workshops where I would revise and refine the material.
“After the theatre company committed to the production, we moved towards the rehearsal stage. I flew to San Francisco and was present throughout the entire rehearsal process. Hosseini would occasionally visit, but he was careful to give us space to develop the piece without feeling overshadowed by the book’s success.
Khaled Hosseini
“He was always available if I needed guidance, and we would have conversations about specific elements, when necessary. He proved to be a wonderful person – a true humanitarian and champion of women – who was kind and generous, wanting me to feel free to transform the novel into a proper theatrical piece.”
Rani Sarma, who lives in Lahinch, west Ireland, said her Asian heritage (her father is from Assam) significantly influenced her writing. At a young age, She started reading Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore, who won the Nobel prize for literature.
“When you are mixed race, you never fully belong in any place. As a result, you bring a distinct artistic insight with you. I believe this was one reason I was approached to adapt this work – being a woman of mixedrace heritage with knowledge and interest in that part of the world,” she said.
“Growing up as a mixed-race Irish Indian in Ireland during a time when there were very few mixed-race families, I was the only such family in our village and wider community. This experience meant growing up always on the outside looking in, which allowed me to form a unique commentary and perspective.
“I am deeply interested in how things work, particularly how society functions and why people behave as they do. Despite the significant cultural differences between Afghanistan and India, I noticed similarities in the relationships between men and women. I could even see echoes in past Irish society, where women were often treated as commodities and traded, such as farmers marrying their daughters to other farmers.
Rani Sharma, who writes plays for the National Theatre, the Abbey Theatre and EON Productions, said, “The adaptation tries to present a nuanced view of human nature, exploring the spectrum of male characters and understanding the characters’ behaviour through a lens of empathy and psychological complexity.”
Arts “should reflect society”, she said, adding there should be plays and films about “regular people from diverse backgrounds”. “I want my daughter to grow up seeing versions of herself on screen and stage, believing she holds as much space as anyone else. This contrasts with the whitewashed, maledominated culture I grew up in, where it was challenging to convince people that your voice was worth hearing.
“Over my twenty-year career, I have witnessed a notable shift in the arts. When I first started writing, there was very little interest in female-led stories, both in theatre and across television and film.
The poster of the stage adaptation
“In the last decade, there has been a welcome change, with increasing interest in female narratives and perspectives from different cultural backgrounds,” she said.
“My aspiration is to tell stories about regular people from diverse backgrounds, without focusing solely on issues like forced marriages or terrorism. I am currently working on a BBC television show that will feature a regular Indian family in a prime-time legal drama, hoping to normalise representation.”
Her advice to aspiring Asian artists? “Believe in yourselves and understand that your voice matters. There is an appetite for diverse voices in the industry. Artists should be their own advocates, confident in the validity of their work without being arrogant.
They should do thorough research before sharing their work, selecting appropriate organisations and platforms that are receptive to their narratives.”
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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Scottish-Pakistani theatre-maker Lubna Kerr returns to the Edinburgh Fringe with 'Lunchbox'
Acclaimed Scottish-Pakistani theatre-maker Lubna Kerr returns to the Edinburgh Fringe with Lunchbox – the final instalment of her deeply personal and widely praised ‘BOX’ trilogy, following Tickbox and Chatterbox.
Inspired by her own upbringing as a Pakistani immigrant girl in Glasgow, Lunchbox is a powerful one-woman show that tackles themes of identity, race, bullying and belonging through the eyes of two teenagers growing up on the same street but living vastly different lives. With humour, honesty and heart, Kerr brings multiple characters to life, including her younger self and a troubled classmate, as she explores whether we are shaped by our environment or capable of breaking the cycle.
Ahead of the show’s run at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe, she speaks to Eastern Eye about her creative journey, the inspiration behind the trilogy and why she believes now is the time to share these stories.
Lunchbox is a powerful one-woman show that tackles themes of identity, race, bullying and belongingInstagram/ lubnakerr
How do you reflect on your creative journey?
When I started writing my first play Tickbox, I doubted myself – would anyone come to see it? But it has since been staged all over the UK and is still touring. I have come so far in my creative journey and love being able to find new stories to tell the world.
How much are you looking forward to returning to the Edinburgh Fringe? I love the Fringe. It is my favourite part of the year.
Tell us about your new show. Lunchbox is a one-woman show and is the final part of the ‘BOX’ trilogy of my life as a Pakistani immigrant girl growing up in Glasgow. There are eight characters – some familiar and some new.
How does this compare to your other shows Tickbox and Chatterbox?
It is similar but different. It explores the next stage of my school life, but this time through the eyes of the bully, Steven.
How have you felt going on a journey with this unique trilogy?
It was never meant to be a trilogy when I first started writing, but as the stories came out, I realised I had so much to share that I could not do it all in one play.
What is the biggest challenge of doing a solo show?
Keeping well and pacing your energy. There is no understudy, so I need to make sure I get enough rest and can be fresh for my shows every day.
She says, ''do not assume you know what is going on in people’s lives behind closed doors''Instagram/ lubnakerr
Who are you hoping to reach with this show?
Those who were bullied, those who stood by and did nothing, and those who were the bullies.
Is there a key message you want to convey with this show?
Do not assume you know what is going on in people’s lives behind closed doors. I want audiences to think about who they wrote off in life. Who could they have given a hand to? Whose life did they assume was a waste? Who will they be clapping for? Have they forgiven their bully?
What do you most love about live theatre?
I love performing and sharing unheard or untold stories about the diaspora. We have such a rich culture and heritage, and we need our voices to be heard. Theatre is the vehicle to do this.
How do you feel when you are on stage?
I love being on stage, whether performing a play or doing comedy. I love feeling connected to the audience – having them hold onto my every word and fall into a trance with my characters, helping them forget their worries for an hour.
Why should we all come and watch your new show Lunchbox?
Lunchbox has a universal theme of bullying and discrimination, but it is told by an older south Asian woman. How many of us are out there doing this? I want to inspire anyone of any age to come and share their stories on stage, and let the world know that we are more than just curries and cricket (though I do love both).
From the moment Poppy and Rubina stepped onto the stage of Soho Theatre in central London for Brown Girls Do It Too: Mama Told Me Not to Come, the energy was electric, the laughs non-stop, and the message loud and clear: British Asian women are done with silence.
What began as a ground-breaking, award-winning podcast that sparked online backlash for daring to talk openly about sex and relationships within South Asian communities has now evolved into arguably the most unique and fearless live show of the year.
Set against a cheekily colourful bedroom backdrop, this dynamic duo dived headfirst into everything from sex, shame, fantasies and motherhood to the layered realities of growing up as British Asian women. With sharp, smart transitions between confessional-style conversation and character-driven sketches, the show
managed to feel both intimately honest and wildly theatrical.
It is rare to witness a show that is both this hilarious and this importantAMG
One moment they were sat discussing sexual awakenings and mother–daughter culture clashes; the next, they were morphing into wickedly satirical versions of Priti Patel and Suella Braverman or belting out a catchy song – a side-splitting ode to Jolen bleach and body hair, brilliantly riffing off Dolly Parton’s Jolene. A recurring sketch involving a “Coconut Crimes Hotline” was a comedic masterstroke, and their hilarious mother–daughter bits had most in the audience instantly relating.
It is no surprise the crowd, largely women, many of them British Asian, responded with raucous joy. This representation, delivered with bite, boldness and belly laughs, made them feel seen. They did not just watch Mama Told Me Not to Come – they felt it, because it reflected them.
Poppy and Rubina’s magnetic chemistry, unstoppable presence and ability to straddle personal vulnerability with political satire was nothing short of genius. It is rare to witness a show that is both this hilarious and this important. And just when you think it is all laughs, they deliver a powerful emotional gut punch, ending the evening with heartfelt letters to their respective mothers, which brought tears to many eyes and underlined just how deeply the show resonates.
This is not just a standout – it is the show that is going to take the Edinburgh Fringe by storm in August. Bold,
brilliant, blisteringly funny and ultimately moving, Brown Girls Do It Too is a fantastic five-star triumph in every sense.
A NEW play explores the issues faced by this current generation of immigrants and questions the definitions of freedom and liberation, its playwright has said.
Permission, written and co-produced by Hunia Chawla, casts a questioning eye on the trope of ‘the oppressed Muslim woman’ and examines the links between patriarchy, protest, and the global political order.
In an interview with Eastern Eye, Chawla said, “There are not many voices of contemporary immigrants in today’s world. The immigrant stories we hear are from the 1950s and 1970s.
“There is not much discussion taking place, and I believe it is an important discussion to have, given everything that is happening in the world. What is the role of protest? Who gets to decide what freedom is? This tension between the West and the East that we often observe offers a new way of looking at these issues.”
Through the stories of Hanna (played by Anisa Butt) and Minza (Rea Malhotra Mukhtyar), the 70-minute play, which moves between a Heathrow immigration queue and a rooftop in Karachi, explores themes such as friendship, sisterhood, identity politics, and state violence.
“I believe this trope (the oppressed Muslim woman) holds significant importance because it is frequently employed to justify numerous oppressive measures against people from the global south, Muslims, and specific nations,” Chawla, who is in her late 20s pointed out.
“Consider, for instance, the situation in Afghanistan. There exists considerable outcry regarding the Taliban, and quite rightly so, as they are indeed oppressive towards women. However, the response to this oppression is the assertion that “we must save Afghans from the Taliban,” which then leads to sending weapons and dropping bombs on that very country under the guise of liberation. One ends up killing the same people one purports to liberate, and the irony of this situation is not lost on observers
“Similarly, regarding the Israel-Palestine conflict, much of the propaganda centres on the claim that all Palestinians are oppressive towards women and gender minorities, and this assertion is then used to justify genocide. Identity politics has become so divorced from actual political violence that it proves harmful at times – indeed, it is sometimes weaponised in deeply damaging ways.”
Hunia Chawla
According to the writer, who is from Karachi and lives in Yorkshire, the solution to the issue lies “simply in maintaining awareness”.
“It is crucial to recognise that Muslim women are not the only ones facing oppression, patriarchy exists everywhere. It is present here in the UK and across the globe, merely manifesting in different forms. The critical factor is determining who tells the story and who it serves.
“Currently, I observe a narrative structure featuring a saviour and the oppressed, with engagement conducted in a manner that serves the so-called saviour, who are, paradoxically, also the oppressors. This approach proves unhelpful and reinforces a colonial mentality of “we are modern and shall liberate you,” while considerable harm is being inflicted that remains largely unacknowledged,” she added.
In the play, Hanna tries to balance her political beliefs and personal choices by presenting herself as a ‘proper’ Pakistani woman. Her best friend, Minza, doesn’t care about appearing respectable to others. Their close friendship, played out in the busy city of Karachi, faces a major challenge when Hanna relocates to London seeking personal freedom and independence, meanwhile Minza stays behind in Karachi to campaign for political change through protests.
Chawla explained that while the play follows a chronological structure, showing Hanna’s journey from Karachi to London, it incorporates numerous flashbacks to her childhood and teenage years, creating a non-linear narrative.
She expressed her fascination with magical realism, noting that incorporating less naturalistic elements allows for greater character dimension and environmental shifts.
The play explores two distinct approaches to seeking freedom through its protagonists. Originally created as a 20-minute one-woman show and performed to a packed audience at The Space in London, Chawla developed the play into its current form over two years. She collaborated with director Neetu Singh to provide a “new vision” for the play.
She explained that Permission initially told the story of an immigrant girl from Pakistan dealing with the contemporary immigration process.
“The story expanded to explore the broader politics of immigration and questions of liberation and freedom, particularly for south Asian women navigating the immigration process and the complexities of dual identity between Karachi and London,” she said.
“Permission came from the essential question of what liberation means and who gets to define it,” Chawla said.
A still from rehearsal
She noted that Western media often presents reductive narratives, such as in Bend It Like Beckham, where a brown girl from a conservative family becomes “liberated” through western ideas, reinforcing a colonial mindset that positions the west as the standard for modernity and liberation.
The British Pakistani artist highlighted the hypocrisy within this narrative, explaining that while the main character Hanna may feel more secure as a woman in the UK, she encounters censorship when attempting to speak about state violence, Palestine, or western complicity in global conflicts.
“The liberation question becomes complicated – you’re not free to do everything. There’s a condition to that freedom,” she observed.
The Asian actor-writer developed an interest in poetry from a very young age. She studied at the University of Warwick and pursued a career in the financial sector upon completing her studies. She completed the Old Vic Theatre Makers programme and is currently part of the Soho Writers Lab.
Chawla added, “Viewers don’t need to be politically engaged to appreciate the production, as the play’s strength lies in intimate moments and the beautiful portrayal of friendship and sisterhood between its characters. Permission operates on multiple levels, combining serious political themes with genuine entertainment value. It is genuinely funny and engaging.”
She expressed confidence in the production’s broad appeal, noting that previous performances attracted diverse audiences who responded enthusiastically.
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The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
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
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