KARACHI: What is self-discovery? How does one go about it? Does it happen as one goes along in life, just like that, or does one have to work towards it?

These are some of the questions that contemporary artists more often than not ask themselves through their creative pursuits –– writing, acting, directing, etc. And that’s exactly what was the motive of American artist Fawzia Mirza when she got on stage to perform her one-woman show, Me, my mom and Sharmila, representing Catharsis Productions in the ongoing National Academy of Performing Arts Theatre Festival on Tuesday night.

The setting: Fawzia is at a screening of the iconic Indian film actress Sharmila Tagore’s film Aradhna. The event will be followed by a conversation with the actress. This gets Fawzia all excited as she talks about what makes Sharmila special. There are other actresses –– Madhubala, Madhuri, etc –– but no one, in her opinion, is as beautiful as Sharmila. Foremost, it’s the eyes of the actress that are like no one else’s.

Fawzia gives the audience a lesson in Bollywood history, especially about the way it highlights the physical aspect of romance in rainy song sequences. She says her mom is also fond of Sharmila. And from there on it’s her mom to whom the focus shifts.

Fawzia goes down memory lane when her mother used to worry about her daughter’s “weight” issues and address that matter in a typical desi style. Naturally, with that comes a brief history of India, which means the time when the British colonised India and gave the Indians, among other things, a skin hierarchy complex.

Herein lies the rub: Fawzia’s story is not the story of being a Sharmila Tagore fan. It’s the way she was raised by her mother who herself came from a “modern” background but as time passed by turned religious, and even started wearing the hijab. It was hard for her to fathom how her daughter sees, and wants to lead, life.

Me, my mom and Sharmila is an absorbing study of the desi-western conundrum. There are moments when it sounds an exceedingly personal account of complex issues. At the heart of it, though, are bigger things. It’s about culture, choices and lifestyle (not necessarily in the same order) where Sharmila Tagore becomes a metaphor for all three.

Fawzia constructs the monologue very well, the marked feature of which is the seamless transitions of subjects –– from Bollywood to her childhood to her parents and to her mother’s transformation. She intelligently ends the story, once she gets a chance to ask Sharmila a question after the screening of the film, by phoning her mom telling her about the actress “Woh ab bhi utni hi khoobsurat hai” (she is still beautiful); and sings that little ‘chooza’ song in Urdu which her mother used to ask her to sing when she was a child.

Fawzia keeps the stage very simple, with only four chairs placed down-centre to show she is at a film showing event. Bits of Indian film and English pop music are the only other things that the audience hear besides her narration. One feels that a little bit of visual aid, for example, a projected image of Sharmila or film footage, could complement the script well, and might even enhance its impact.

Me, my mom and Sharmila will be restaged on March 25 (today).

Published in Dawn, March 25th, 2015

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