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Through poems, music, photographs, paintings, books, articles, passionate speeches and scholarly discussions, Muslim artists have emerged since September 11th to reclaim their place in New York culture as the bearers of peace, compassion and infinite sadness. But perhaps none have addressed their own losses stemming from the tragedy and their precarious positions as Muslims in a now indelibly Muslim-cautious world.
Until now.
On a brightly-lit T-shaped platform in Manhattan’s Indocenter, seven actors with scripts in their hands gave a staged reading last week of Rehana Mirza’s “Barriers”, a South Asian drama dealing with one Muslim family’s loss and struggles that came out of the World Trade Center attacks.
For Mirza, a young up-and-coming New York playwright, “Barriers” is her first Muslim-themed drama. The New York University graduate penned the play following her own experiences after the attacks. Mirza, who lives in downtown Manhattan near St. Vincent’s Hospital, was displaced for a week after Sept. 11th.
“It was a lot to think about and digest,” Mirza says.
She felt compelled to do something after seeing the suffering of families searching for news of their loved ones and dealing with her own emotions about prejudice against Muslims. One day, coming home from work, she saw a flier on her doorstep of a Muslim woman who had perished in the attacks. In place of the woman’s eyes were burned holes.
From that flier was born the idea for “Barriers”, which follows the lives of the Abbas family after the attacks. The family has lost one son in the attacks and has faced racial prejudice from their own community. The play opens with the homecoming of the eldest child, Sunima (Deepa Purohit), who is reluctant to announce her engagement to her Caucasian boyfriend, Roger (Matt McIver).
From there the family structure further unravels with the strained relationships between the parents – Khalil, wonderfully played by Ismail Bashey, and his wife Naima (Ji Un Choi), a Chinese-American who converted to Islam when she married Khalil. Their youngest son, 16-year-old Shehriar (Sunil Malhotra, who recently had the lead role in the indie comedy Where’s the Party Yaar?), is experiencing a crisis of his own that results in a dramatic, tragic conclusion.
Though the actors performed just a staged reading without props or settings, various themes and emotions were cleverly portrayed through verbal inflections, body gestures and facial nuances. Malhotra’s ticked-off, fed-up and ultimately frustrated teenage portrayal is dead-on as he taunts his sister for choosing a Caucasian fiancé and chastises her for abandoning the family during their loss.
“For you, peace is just a lack of emotion, Sunima,” Shehriar says as he angrily explains the family’s lack of closure.
Shehriar drops out of school due to constant fights and accusations from his classmates that he is just like the terrorists because he is “brown” and Muslim.
Khalil also experiences troubles of his own. Unable to protect his family the way he wants to, he turns to another woman to forget his sorrows. He struggles with Islam, blaming the religion for his misfortunes. “Ya Allah, I can’t stand seeing my family like this,” he says. He toys with renouncing Islam as a way to save his family from the prejudice and pain they endure. Yet his wife’s answer is to revert more to Islam.
Naima, much to her family’s chagrin, dons the Hijaab. She believes deeper faith is the only salvation from her sorrow at the loss of her son, Nabhil (Neil Shah). Her family urges her to drop the Hijaab and stop wearing traditional Pakistani clothes. But she refuses.
Naima and Khalil’s opposing reactions to their misfortunes are an interesting juxtaposition of ideals. The convert’s faith grows strong as the born-Muslim loses his. Their personal struggles are especially poignant reminders of what Muslims faced on a daily basis following the attacks.
Mirza says each character’s personal struggles personify different things Muslims may have dealt with. She presents two endings to the drama with repeating dialogue as an offering of alternate realities. “I want to show the audience that they can choose a path of pain or a path of feeling,” she says.
Though the drama is fraught with obscenities and situations that aren’t conducive to proper Islamic behavior, its raises passionate questions about what it was like to be a Muslim (albeit a weak Muslim) in America after 11th .
Sure the Abbas family is not at all the vision of a proper Islamic family; but exposing the family’s nasty underbelly serves a larger purpose. Perhaps by being forced to face their problems, the Abbas family, and others like them, can find a better Islamic path to follow.
“Barriers”, produced by Desipina productions, is expected to be performed in New York this September. For more information, email desipina@haseenevents.com
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