Introduced by The Final Present at NAPA on Friday, the play refuses simple villains in a household falling aside
It’s uncommon to take a seat in a theatre and utterly neglect that you just’re watching actors on a stage. Normally, you’re conscious of the lights, the blocking, the efficiency. However occasionally, a play quietly pulls you in so deeply that you just cease noticing the mechanics altogether.
The Mom, written and directed by Usama Khan, did precisely that for me. It didn’t depend on spectacle or dramatics. It labored by emotional honesty. Tailored from Florian Zeller’s play of the identical identify, this model by no means felt like a overseas story awkwardly positioned in a Pakistani setting. It felt acquainted in the perfect and most uncomfortable approach. The silences inside marriages, the emotional distance between mother and father and grown kids, the way in which households slowly cease speaking actually to one another. You acknowledge these individuals. You acknowledge these rooms. That’s what makes the play hit so near residence.
On the middle is Haleema, performed with heartbreaking restraint by Nimra Bucha. She is a sleepless mom attempting to outlive loneliness, a fading marriage, and the worry of being emotionally deserted by her son Arsalan, performed by Ashmal, who has moved out to stay together with his girlfriend. Her husband Saad, performed by Sunil Shanker, is emotionally absent and at all times leaving for “seminars.” When Haleema’s son stops replying to her messages, one thing inside her begins to unravel. Capsules, alcohol, reminiscence, worry, and creativeness begin bleeding into one another.
What stayed with me was how the play refuses to show Haleema right into a typical bechari mazloom aurat. She is loving and merciless, needy and manipulative, susceptible and controlling. Nimra makes her really feel virtually symbolic of many growing older moms who quietly really feel invisible, emotionally starved, and petrified of dropping relevance of their kids’s lives. The story gently touches on kids neglecting mother and father as they get older, magnificence requirements round growing older girls, and the way overly enmeshed motherhood can generally suffocate a baby’s independence, with out ever lecturing the viewers.
Usama Khan’s route retains you barely unsettled in one of the best ways. Scenes repeat, however they don’t really feel the identical emotionally every time. Generally you’re uncertain what’s actual and what may be taking place inside Haleema’s thoughts. In a post-show dialog, Usama shared why this story mattered to him. “It is a story that belongs to each residence. It’s my mom’s story too. Relationships could differ in form and depth, however the emotional ache is one thing all of us acknowledge.” He additionally mentioned he consciously averted portraying Haleema as only a sufferer. “It will have been very simple to indicate the mom as a bechari determine, particularly in our tradition. However I didn’t need audiences strolling out solely saying, ‘the poor mom.’” As an alternative, he wished all of the characters to stay in ethical gray areas so nobody feels fully proper or incorrect. He added, “I by no means wish to impose a message on the viewers. I would like individuals to see themselves on stage and replicate on the place they stand in their very own lives.”
Nimra echoed this fantastically when she spoke about nonetheless discovering Haleema. “The journey of understanding this character hasn’t actually ended but,” she mentioned. “Generally you observe your feelings, and generally you confront them. That interior battle is the actual work.” Watching her carry out, you possibly can really feel that rigidity in each small gesture and pause. The straightforward, muted set makes the home really feel emotionally hole relatively than heat. Haleema’s purple costume stands out sharply towards it, like a visible heartbeat.
The supporting performances are equally sturdy. Ashmal captures the quiet guilt and tenderness of a son torn between love and independence. Sunil Shanker brings restraint and emotional distance to the husband with out turning him right into a villain. Esha provides Sana confidence and defensiveness, making her really feel actual relatively than symbolic.
The ultimate hospital scene lands quietly however painfully. Haleema survives an overdose, solely to be taught that her son plans to stay completely together with his accomplice. There is no such thing as a dramatic breakdown, simply stillness and ache. The Mom doesn’t consolation you. It stays with you. It reminds you that grief usually lives in silence, repetition, and love that doesn’t know how one can let go. And that’s precisely why it feels so actual.
