IT IS odd that while in the last few decades, the subcontinent (mostly India, actually) has produced many works of literature of the highest quality, none of it has been in the genre of drama.

Every year brings new South Asian authors to our notice, while more established novelists from India vie for top literary awards. But London’s West End and New York’s Broadway - the two centres of English-language theatre - have yet to stage a serious play by a South Asian playwright.

Meera Seyal has written successful screenplays for British television, but despite the presence of a large and very talented contingent of creative writers from the subcontinent in the West, they have made no impact on theatre.

I have often pondered on this anomaly as I love going to the theatre when I’m in London. While my experience with South Asian theatre is admittedly limited to Lahore and Karachi, nothing I have seen there compares even remotely with the acting skills, the stagecraft and the sheer imagination of the plays I have seen elsewhere.

I do not mean this criticism unkindly: many friends have been attempting to raise the level of theatre in Pakistan for years in a very hostile climate. It is a scandal that in Karachi, a city of over 12 million, there is no proper stage. In Lahore where the Arts Council controls a theatre complex, the whole business of having to have a script approved, and payment made in advance, is a daunting procedure. Then there is official censorship: theatre in Pakistan is still governed by a 19th century British law designed to ensure that the dignity of the Raj was not affronted by cheeky theatre-wallahs.

And finally, there is the social stigma attached to those brave souls who try and eke out a living from the performing arts in Pakistan. While amateur theatre is encouraged, and even applauded, professionals are considered little better than prostitutes and pimps. Only those playwrights and actors survive who get some work on radio and television, as outlets for theatre and dance are virtually non-existent.

Small wonder then that educated and talented people generally steer clear of the stage. While the situation is better in India, performing artists there are at the lower end of the social ladder, too. Funkar Gali, a film by Pakistani playwright and director Sarmad Sehbai, brilliantly captures the plight of performing artists in Pakistan. Similar feudal attitudes prevailed in Europe in the 17th century. But lacking cinema and TV, all classes flocked to watch the latest plays. Shakespeare and Marlowe thrived. In France, Moliere was all the rage. Theatre held up an indispensable mirror to society with sly (and often bawdy) wit. Over time, it has come to occupy a central place in the worlds of literature and show biz. No subject is off limits to playwrights as political and personal conflicts are explored and dissected.

Some of these plays make for uncomfortable viewing. The other evening, we went to a production of ‘Mammals’. Staged in a small, intimate venue where the stage was in hand-shaking distance of the front row, we seemed to be eavesdropping on a family dispute. Husband and wife go through a harrowing crisis as the audience flinches at the marital revelations that emerge.

And here, I suspect, lies the reason why South Asian theatre has not evolved as have other literary forms. As a society, we tend not to confront issues and problems, especially when they are of a personal nature. And a stage is too much like real life to explore underlying tensions in relationships. We are more likely to sweep problems under the carpet than discuss them openly. The concept of “face” is too deeply ingrained in us to expose painful truths. Raw emotion is something we prefer not to reveal in public.

Then, of course, there is the problem of the deep-rooted respect for our elders we are taught at a very early age. This implies that we cannot bring ourselves to criticize our parents, no matter what they do. And naturally, given the thick curtain we draw across the institution of marriage, the inevitable marital problems that crop up between any couple remain out of bounds. It is true that some of these issues are occasionally discussed in TV plays, but mostly this exploration is superficial. The stage as an arena for personal conflict remains largely neglected.

Inter-generational differences were the subject of “Elmina’s Kitchen”, a story about a West Indian father trying to bring up his teenaged son in a violent part of London. The play has won rave reviews, and describes in bruising detail the difficulty both father and son have in communicating, and the importance of respect in any relationship. Along the way, we learn about Jamaican culture and society in a way no learned treatise could have taught us.

Another play exploring the dynamics of family ties was “A Raisin in the Sun”. Set in Chicago in 1959, it is the story of a black family trying to live with dignity in a hard world. The father, in his effort to set up a business that would lift the family out of their genteel poverty, squanders his mother’s insurance money, thereby breaking his wife’s heart as she was hoping to use the money to move out of their squalid surroundings. How each member of the family copes with this disaster is a moving story of courage and grace under pressure.

Although none of these plays is overtly political, each has many social and political messages as a subtext. Too many of the plays I have seen in Pakistan fall into the trap of trying to deliver overt lectures about the iniquities of life, making the whole exercise rather tedious. While a poster announces a message at first glance, a painting has many layers of meaning. Similarly, a play about the human condition can be understood at different levels.

So why is theatre important at all? It can be argued that in a country like Pakistan with so many economic and social problems, theatre is a luxury. But the fact that despite the adverse conditions, so many brave people are still trying to express themselves on the stage suggests that there is a deep need for self-expression. And at the popular level, for theatre to survive also suggests that people need to see and understand a truth that is neither sanitized nor varnished.