The scene is the Taj Mahal in Agra in 1648, the night before its final unveiling after many years of construction. Two of Shah Jahan’s Imperial Guards are on duty, with their swords drawn awaiting first light. They stand on a raised platform around a central pole. Both carry the names of former Mughal emperors – Babur and Humayun. Their world is rule-bound, focused on restraining or confining others, or self-constraint and devotion to duty. If they succeed, then promotion awaits even to become the personal guards of the Mughal Emperor in the harem.
But there are other contrasting elements to their lives as well. They have happy memories of building a tree house as boys. Babur has a strong sense of mischief, and Humayun is attuned and devoted to the sounds and themes of the natural world of birds and animals. The arc of the play describes the tensions between these different aspects of their lives, and how ultimately they are irreconcilable. What neither can anticipate is the effects on them of the orders and actions they are required to carry out which empty the attainment of their goals of any lasting meaning.
At the centre are two very fine performances. Usaamah Ibraheem Hussain captures the quicksilver, impish enthusiasm of Babur, who is not a good fit with the stolid, single-track focus required of an imperial guard. Maanuv Thiara embodies in Humayun a more conventional figure, dutiful son of a senior courtier, whose tragedy is ultimately that he cannot break free from his devotion to the figure of the sovereign and stay loyal to his friend.
This is in some respects a confronting evening, with a lot of staged horror; but the astute direction by Adam Karim turns this to good effect. Cleaning the stage of gore and washing and tending to each other provide affecting moments of tenderness and humour and warm interaction between the characters that balance the more elevated intellectual debates about the tug between friendship and obligation to a capricious ruler, the nature and demands of beauty, and imaginative speculations that appear to anticipate modern means of transport.
There is an exquisitely detailed and graded sound design, complemented by a delicate lighting scheme. The beauty of birdcalls and tranquil landscape is amply conveyed, together with the ambient horrors of mass mutilations subtly indicated by a distant litany of screams, groans and wails. The moment when the Taj appears to them in the dawn light for the first time is delicately conveyed without our ever seeing the building’s familiar shape. That said, the set created by Roisin Jenner also more than earns its place by sheer economy of geometry and ingenuity of design.
However, the play is about twenty minutes too long for the ideas and material it contains. While it ends strongly and poignantly, some of the themes come around a few too many times; and a briefer play would be an even more effective one in this instance, paired perhaps with another one-act drama illustrating a further symbolic episode from India’s epic and complex history.
Writer: Rajiv Joseph
Director: Adam Karim
Cast: Usaamah Ibraheem Hussain, Maanuv Thiara
Until 16 November 2024
1 hr and 20 mins, no interval
Photo Credit: Lidia Crisafulli