The Black Album (2 page)
But there was, mixed in with this liberation rhetoric, as in other revolutionary movements – either of the left or right – a strong element of puritanism and self-hatred. There was a desire for the masochism of obedience and self-punishment, something not only illustrated by the Taliban, but by all revolts, which are inevitably vitiated by the egotism of self-righteousness and in love with self-sacrifice. This concerns not only the erotics of the ‘revolutionary moment’, the ecstasy of a break with the past and the fantasy of renewal, but also the human pen chant for living in authoritarian societies and intransigent systems, where safety and the firm constraint of the leader are preferable to liberal doubt, uncertainty and change. As George Bataille reminds us in an essay written in 1957, ‘Man goes constantly in fear of himself. His erotic urges terrify him.’
Riaz, the solemn, earnest and clever leader of the small group which Shahid joins, understands that hatred of the Other is an effective way of keeping his group not only together but moving forward. To do this, he has to create an effective paranoia. He must ensure that the image and idea of the Other is sufficiently horrible and dangerous to make it worth being afraid of. The former colonialistic Western Other, having helped rush the East into premature modernity, must have no virtues. Just as the West has generated fantasies and misapprehensions of the East for its own purposes, the East – this time stationed in the West – will do the same, ensuring not only a comprehensive misunderstanding between the two sides, but a complete disjunction which occludes complexity.
Of course, for some Muslims this disjunction is there from the start. To be bereft of religion is to be bereft of human value. Almost unknowingly, Muslims who believe this are making a significant sacrifice by forfeiting the importance of seeing others, and of course themselves, as being completely human. In Karachi, I recall, people were both curious and amazed when I said I was an atheist. ‘So when you die,’ said one of my cousins, ‘you’ll be all dressed up with nowhere to go?’ At the same time Islamic societies, far from being ‘spiritual’, are – because of years of deprivation and envy – among the most materialistic on earth. Shopping and the mosque have no trouble in getting along together.
Some of the attitudes among the kids I talked to for
The
Black Album
reminded me of Nietzsche’s analysis of the origins of religion, in particular his idea that religion – and Nietzsche was referring to Christianity – was the aggression of the weak, of the victim or oppressed. These attacks on the West, and the religion they were supposed to protect, were in fact a form of highly organised resentment or bitterness, developed out of colonialism, racism and covetousness. The violent criticism of Rushdie, an exceptionally gifted artist of whom the community should have been proud, was in fact a hatred of talent and of the exceptional, a kind of forced equalisation from a religion which had not only become culturally and intellectually mediocre, but which was looking to an invented past for solutions to contemporary difficulties.
Towards the end of
The Black Album
, with the help of his lecturer and soon-to-be-girlfriend Deedee Osgood, Shahid understands that he has to withdraw from this group in order to establish himself on his own terms at last. This isn’t easy, as the group has provided him with solidarity, friendship and direction, and doesn’t want to let him go.
He extracts himself, in part, by beginning to discover the exuberance and freedom of his own sexuality and creativity. ‘How does newness come into the world? How is it born? Of what fusions, translations, conjoinings is it made?’ asks Salman Rushdie, relevantly, at the beginning of
The
Satanic Verses
.
It is also no accident that British and American pop, as exemplified for Shahid by Prince’s intelligent, sensual and prolific creativity, is in a particularly lively phase. The clubs and parties Deedee takes Shahid to represent a continuing form of the youthful celebration and self-expression that Britain has enjoyed since the sixties.
If, along with mythology, religions are among man’s most important and finest creation – with God perhaps being his greatest idea of all – Shahid also learns how corrupt and stultifying these concepts can become if they fetishise obedience and ritual, if they are not renewed and rethought. Like language itself, they can become decadent, and newness doesn’t have an easy time. Blasphemy is as old as God and as necessary; religion and blasphemy are made for one another. Without blasphemy religion has no potency or meaning. There’s nothing like a useful provocation to start a good conversation, and this can only be to the advantage of religion, keeping it tied to scepticism.
In
The Black Album
it turns out that Shahid is one of the lucky ones, strong enough to find out – after flirting with extreme religion – that he’d rather affect the world as an artist than as an activist. The others in his group are not so intelligent or objective; or perhaps they are just more passionate for political change.
Whatever the reasons – and it is probably too late for psychological explanations – something had begun to stir in the late eighties which has had a profound effect on our world, and which we are still trying to come to terms with.
The Black Album
was first performed in the Cottesloe auditorium of the National Theatre, London, on 14 July 2009. The cast was as follows:
Shahid Hasan
Jonathan Bonnici
Riaz al Hussain
Alexander Andreou
Strapper
Glyn Pritchard
Hat
Beruce Khan
Deedee Osgood
Tanya Franks
Tahira / Zulma
Shereen Martineau
Andrew Brownlow
Sean Gallagher
Chad
Nitin Kundra
Chili
Robert Mountford
Director
Jatinder Verma
Set Designer
Tim Hatley
Costume Designer
Claudia Mayer
Lighting Designer
Jvan Morandi
Video Designer
Tom Hadley
Choreographer
Shobana Jeyasingh
Music
Sister Bliss
Music Assciate
John Gingell
Sound Designer
Fergus O’Hare
Graphics and Animation
Sara Nestruk
Shahid Hasan
Strapper
Riaz al-Hussain
Hat
Chad
Deedee Osgood
Andrew Brownlow
Chili
Zulma
I
n a company of nine, other characters
may be doubled as follows
Young Man, Councillor Rudder, Reporter (Strapper)
Heavy 1 (Andrew Brownlow)
Heavy 2 (Chad)
Old Man, Cameraman (Chili)
Tahira, Mother (Zulma)
Act One
Rural, suburban sounds, late afternoon. Lights fade up on a map of the world, followed by the legend
HASAN TRAVELS
.
Shahid enters, wrapped in an overcoat and carrying two suitcases. He puts them down and looks at the map and the legend. Mother enters.
Mother
Arey, Shahid …!
She pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, spits on it
and proceeds to wipe his face
.
Going to college in London and so not smart.
Shahid
(
protesting
) Ammi …
Mother
How happy your papa will be in paradise when you return with a college degree.
Shahid
HND, Ammi –
Mother
(
dismissive
) Degree is a degree. (
Exclaims
.) My one son charms a beautiful girl like Zulma from Karachi –
Shahid
Not exactly difficult.
Mother
Don’t argue. Chili and Zulma are a golden couple. And you are about to charm books into a degree! Have you packed toothpaste? All-Bran? Wake up, brush your teeth, have All-Bran with yoghurt and straightaway you will have perfect motions, smooth as the day is long. Promise me.
Shahid
Yes, Ammi.
Mother
And ring. Every evening I want to hear progress report, just like your papa used to. Socks – have you packed enough?
Shahid
Yes.
Mother
Here’s a kebab roll to eat on the train –
Shahid
I’m only going to London –
Mother
You’ll get hungry – why waste money? I’ve also precisely told Chili to take good care of you. He will visit often –
Shahid
Oh, no.
Mother
Listen to what he says. Packed the computer Papa bought you?
Shahid
Of course.
Mother
Papa will be so pleased. And Shahid?
Shahid
What?
Mother
Don’t talk to strangers.
Shahid picks up his cases and leaves. Mother hides her
face in her sari and starts crying. As he walks off,
soundscape gradually shifts to polyglot and frenetic
late-eighties London, and we see him journey to his
north London digs. Strapper bumps into him
.
Strapper
Want some E?
Shahid
(
surprised
) What?
Strapper
(
urgent
) E, man – ecstasy! Want some?
Shahid
No!
Strapper
Keep your shirt on, Paki!
Strapper runs off. Shahid arrives at his digs, unpacks
his new Amstrad computer and sits down to work
.
As he works, London day and night life passes by in
the rooms around him – lodgers variously dancing,
smoking dope, praying. Shahid is seen going between
his computer and his bed, eating, reading, working
and having a wank. The light in his room flickers off
.
Shahid’s digs. There is a knock, followed by a door
opening
.
Riaz
(
in Urdu
)
Khariat hai?
[All okay?]
Shahid
(
startled, in Urdu
)
J-ji
…
Aur aap?
[Yes … And you?]
Riaz
(
in Urdu
)
Jho Allah-tala ko manzoor
… [Whatever Allah wills.] (
Introducing himself
.) Riaz Al-Hussain.
Shahid
(
introducing himself
) Shahid Hasan.
Riaz
You speak Urdu well.
Shahid
Rusty.
The light flickers back on
.
Riaz
Have you eaten? When I am studying and writing I forget for hours to eat and then I remember that I am ravenous. Are you like this?
Shahid
Only when reading a good book.
Riaz
You are searching for something.
Shahid
Am I?
Riaz
(
clears space and settles himself in the room
) Come.
Shahid
(
confused
) Where?
Riaz
Sit, sit. I’ve ordered food from an excellent Pakistani takeaway near here.
Shahid
Thank you.
Riaz
The boy will come soon. Where are you from?
Shahid
Sevenoaks, Kent.
Riaz
I am from Lahore originally.
Shahid
That ‘originally’ is a big thing.
Riaz
You recognise that, eh? You are a Pakistani at heart.
Shahid
Well … not quite.
Riaz
But yes. I have observed you before.
Shahid
Have you? What was I doing?
Riaz
You are hard-working. We all are who come here. I am without a doubt over your earnestness.
Shahid
I’m desperate for good Indian food.
Riaz
Naturally you miss such food.
A knock on the door
.
Ah, here he is.
He opens the door to Hat, bringing the takeaway
.
Meet Shahid – he’s been living quietly in the room next to mine. A proper student!
Hat
Salaam-a-leikum
. I am Hat.
Shahid
Shahid.
Riaz
His father owns the takeaway. He is paying for him to study at the college.
Hat
(
to Shahid
) Nice room, brother.
Riaz
(
to Hat
) Have you brought your abha’s famous brinjal pakoras to start with?
Hat
(
putting the takeaway cartons on Shahid’s computer
table
) Everything exactly as ordered. Kebab rolls as well.
Riaz
(
exclaiming
)
Masha-Allah!
He sits on the floor and opens the cartons
.
Come, Shahid – eat!
Hat
(
to Riaz
) Papa very annoyed – he say definitely no more meetings in our café.
Riaz
(
reassuring as he eats
) We will respect his wishes. Don’t worry – now go.
Hat hesitates
.
(
Realising
.) Ah! The money, of course. Take out a note from my pocket. Come, come, Shahid – this is the best food in London!
Hat fishes a fiver out of Riaz’s pocket, as Shahid joins
him in eating
.
Shahid
Are you a student too, Riaz?
Riaz
Yes, of the law. Before, I gave only general and legal advice to the many poor and uneducated people who came to see me in Leeds. But now it is time to make a proper study. So, here I am in London – the mecca for all students, no? (
Notices Hat standing by
.) You need more money?
Hat
(
brandishing the fiver
) I have no change!
Riaz
Arey, give it to me later. (
To Shahid
.) Your family name is Hasan, am I right?
Shahid
Yes.
Riaz
(
glowing
) A family that bears the name of the martyred son of Ali can only be of great distinction.
Hat browses through Shahid’s bookshelf
.
Shahid
I’d like to think so.
Riaz
How, then, did they let you come to such a derelict college?
Shahid
Because I met a lecturer called Deedee Osgood. I really liked her. So I enrolled. Do you know her?
Riaz
Oh, yes, she has a reputation at the college.
Shahid
At my interview, she only asked what I liked to read and the music I listened to. I talked of
Midnight’s
Children
– have you read that?
Riaz
(
indicating Hat browsing Shahid’s shelf
) Hat has never seen a book before – he is an accountant. (
Returning
to Shahid’s question
.) That book was accurate about Bombay. But this time he has gone too far.
Shahid
When that writer got on TV and attacked racism, Riaz, I wanted to cheer. He spoke from the heart.
Riaz
My abha spoke from the heart. He set me on the path of showing our suffering people their rights.
Shahid
That’s exactly what the man argued on TV – our rights against racism.
Riaz
How do you like the pakoras?
Shahid
They taste just like my ammi’s.
Hat
Wicked, yaar! I’ll tell my abha. He be dead pleased.
Riaz
(
to Shahid
) What does your abha do?
Shahid
Travel agent. He bought the agency where he worked as a clerk when he first came to Sevenoaks.
Riaz
(
exclaiming, with satisfaction at having polished off
a kebab roll
)
Al-hum du’lilla
– he found his right path.
Shahid
Mum runs the agency now with my brother Chili. His wife Zulma’s from Karachi.
Riaz
While your papa enjoys a well-earned retirement!
Shahid
(
matter of fact
) He died six months ago.
Riaz
(
sympathetic, as he wipes his fingers on a
handkerchief
) To pass your last days so far from home must have been very painful for him.
Shahid
Not Papa. Every evening he’d lie in bed in his smoking jacket and entertain visitors like some pasha. His ‘centre of operations’, he’d call it, swigging whisky and soda in a long glass, with Glenn Miller on the turntable.
Riaz looks at him
.
Him and Ammi – they’d never go anywhere themselves, apart from Karachi once a year.
Riaz
Your brother, he is in charge of the business now?
Shahid
Chili? He has a looser attitude to work.
Riaz
Is he a dissipater?
Shahid bristles
.
(
Urging him on
.) Eat, eat!
Shahid complies
.
What do our people really have in their lives?
Shahid
Some have security and purpose at least.
Riaz
They have lost themselves.
Shahid
They’ve certainly lost something. My parents always despised their work and laughed at customers for boiling their bodies on foreign beaches.
Riaz
Precisely right! No Pakistani would dream of being such an idiot by the seaside – as yet. But soon – don’t you think? – we will be parading about everywhere in these bikinis.
Shahid
That’s what my mother and Chili are waiting for. I’ve got to tell you, Riaz – after Papa died – this is the truth now –
Riaz
Anything less is worthless.
Shahid
I lost it for a while. Did badly at school. I’d, uh, got my girlfriend pregnant, and she’d had to have a late abortion. I started hitting the clubs after that, just bumming around. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I wanted – wanted to – uh –
Riaz
Yes, yes?
Chad enters
.
Chad
Riaz, brother –
Riaz gestures for Chad to keep quiet
.
Riaz
(
to Shahid
) Speak openly – he is one of us.
Shahid
I wanted to be a racist.
Chad
What kind of thing are we talking about here?
Shahid
Go around abusing Pakis, niggers, Chinks, Irish, any foreign scum. Slag them under my breath. Kick them up the arse.
Riaz
Open your heart.
Shahid
The thought of sleeping with Asian girls made me sick. I wouldn’t touch brown flesh, except with a branding iron. Even when they came on to me, I couldn’t bear it. I thought, you know, wink at an Asian girl and she’ll want to marry you up.
Riaz
Oh, how is this done?
Chad
You didn’t want to be a racist. I’m telling you that here and now for definite. And I’m informing you that it’s all all right now.
Shahid
I am a racist.
Chad
You only a vessel.
Shahid
I wanted to join the British National Party. I would have filled in the forms if they have forms. How do you apply to such an organisation?
Chad
Would the brother know? Listen. It been the longest, hardest century of racism in the history of everything. How can you not have picked up the vibe in this distorted way? There’s a bit of Hitler in all white people – they’ve given that to you.
Riaz
Only those who purify themselves can escape it. Racism turns us away from ourselves. But there is another way. I am honoured to know you, Shahid.
He hugs him
.
Shahid
I’m pleased to have met you tonight.
Riaz
Thank you. I too have learned.
Chad
(
to Shahid
) I am hearing every moment of your soul cry. Call me Chad.
They embrace
.
(
To Riaz
.) We need to sort things for the meeting.
Riaz
Hat’s papa doesn’t want us to meet in his café any more.
Chad
But Tahira’s bringing all the petitioners there!
Riaz
Tell her to delay until we find another place – I have too many petitions and letters to work on for everyone to meet in my room.
Shahid
You can meet here.
Riaz
(
delighted
)
Al-hum du’lilla
– you
are
a Pakistani at heart!
Shahid
I’ll just put my books and Prince collection away and –
Chad
(
quickly
) You say Prince?
Shahid
Yeh, I’ve got all his records – even the
Black
Album
.
Chad
No way, man – I mean brother – that bootleg.
Shahid
Picked it up in Camden Market.
Chad
Right. Right. It good for bootlegs.
Shahid
Want it?
