Reviews

Kabaddi Kabaddi Kabaddi (tour – Colchester, Mercury Theatre Studio)

Anne Morley-Priestman

Anne Morley-Priestman

| |

9 November 2012

Clio, the muse of history, is
two-faced. She presents contrasting views of the same episodes. So we
have the British imperial view of the Indian sub-continent, and we
have also the expression of those who found themselves under foreign
domination. Kabaddi Kabaddi Kabaddi by Satinder
Chohan
gives us a snap-shot of two Olympic years through the
experiences of generations separated by over 70 years .

In present-day London, we are on a
building site quite near the Olympic Stadium. Shera’s extended family
has created a major construction empire for itself since arriving in
England; he is the snazzily dressed, brashly confident gang master
for the immigrant workers to whom he offers jobs and a measure of
security – provided that they follow his rules. Life in London can
be harsh, but it’s better than being at home in a run-down Punjabi
village. Or is it?

Eshwar isn’t so sure, though he’s able
to send some money to the family he left behind. Young Azadeh now
only wants to go back – which is difficult, as she is an illegal
immigrant with no papers nor the money with which to procure them.
In the second act we meet the 1936 ancestors of the trio. Fauji is
prepared to cheat his way to what he wants at whatever cost to others. Pavan will fight, and
die, for the British Empire; not because he believes in it, but because he sees no viable alternative. Azadeh (the elder) is a Communist
guerrilla, ready to be a suicide bomber and impatient with both men
for their attitude towards their country.

Helena Bell‘s production is part
naturalistic and part symbolic, just like the characters. The title,
by the way, refers to an ancient wrestling sport, accepted for the
Berlin Olympics but no longer recognised for post-war Games. Designer
Sophia Lovell-Smith and choreographer Jasmine Simhalan show us a
no-holds-barred arena, a red sand cockpit for the wrenching of limbs
and even the spilling of blood backed by appropriately half-finished
scaffolding.

The acting is committed, with Shalini
Peiris
making the two women, so very different in their attitudes
and reactions, thoroughly credible. You sympathise with Asif Khan‘s
fundamentally decent Eshwar and Fauji, two men who seem born to be
losers all round. Pushpinder Chani‘s Shera and Pavan are
archetypical grafters, the sort who will nearly always come out on
top, however deep and murky the morass into which they tread other
people.

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