Culture writer Farah Yusuf-Meighan reviews Santi & Naz, praising the cast’s nuanced performances but pushing for deeper exploration of the play’s complex themes
Content Warning: The show contains references to violence, religious and political unrest, and religious and political violence, empire & colonisation and forced marriage.
On Friday, 25th October, in the intimate Patrick studio of Birmingham Hippodrome, I was exposed to a rural village in India 78 years prior. Set two years before partition, Santi and Naz are forced to navigate their growing affection for one another in the presence of impending division. The Sikh Santi (Aiyana Bartlett) and her Muslim best friend Naz (Farah Ashraf) spend the opening scenes expressing their tenderness and endearment for one another. They read Santi’s books, swim in the lake and spy on the local heartthrob, Rahul.
Their naivety is tested through ongoing social unrest, portrayed through looming smoke on stage and political discourse booming through the speakers of the theatre as we jump from scene to scene. Having spent their lives together, the feisty Naz is betrothed to an older man in Rawalpindi, and the girls face the consequences of their religious affiliations, not only through their inevitable separation but through their complex affection towards one another.
The themes of sapphic desire craft a duality between identity and expectation for both girls
Santi & Naz contributes to an important postcolonial narrative, one that may be deemed superficial resultant of their innocence, but regardless, I felt the subtle tongue-in-cheek humour was an effective depiction of humanising the performance and reminding us of the multitude of people impacted by partition. The exchange of jokes in English and Punjabi illustrated this tender connection between the girls and communicated this political discourse of the dissolution of the British Raj. The themes of sapphic desire craft a duality between identity and expectation for both girls, in a time when national identity was complicated during devastation and conflict.
With such a vast introduction of so many serious subject matters, I think this play deserves more than it was given. The thematic choices were precariously touched on, with too little time being given to explore what could’ve been with such important topic of conversations. There is rarely sapphic representation in South Asian theatre and cinematography, given the religious taboos that challenge such a central theme in the play. I felt the individual performances by Aiyana Bartlett and Farah Ashraf were outstanding, but given the play ran for only 70 minutes, it did not feel like the narrative escaped this muddled and unfinished depiction of what could’ve been.
It did not feel like the narrative escaped this muddled and unfinished depiction of what could’ve been
Nonetheless, the touring company The Thelmas, captured the nuanced and complicated female experience of partition effectively yet minimally. The Birmingham Hippodrome website states The Thelmas is a ‘female-led touring company who explore the social, political and cultural stories that matter, in a fresh and surprising way’. The writer of Santi & Naz, Guleraana Mir, states that the production ‘is playfully shining a light on a […] major part of British History’, in which I think the sentiment is extremely important. The postcolonial imprint is something that changes our objective perceptions of the world around us. Performances like Santi & Naz are vital in exploring historical narratives that may have been forgotten in the contemporary world. Mir states how ‘the play speaks to anyone who’s ever felt like they have no control over what’s happening to them in the world’, a bold yet nuanced statement in understanding the complexities of partition for those living and experiencing it.
Rating: 3.5/5
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