I’m greeted by the enormous pog-like stage when I enter the main stage of the Bush theatre. Except, there’s a floral design and a heightened round stage which represents the two halves of this love story. It’s not often that we get brown men in a single play, both of whom seem troubled by the underlying current of their sexuality, but never once does it feel that it falls into the tropes of what the white gaze may have imagined as being their devastating lives. This, I should very hastily add, can be confidently confirmed by Waleed Akhtar’s writing. It’s brilliant, wonderfully realistic and achieves the layers to my own identity that I’d never once seen on a stage. To have TWO of these people represented, I felt like I had won the jackpot. In fact, this is one of those plays that will stay with you for a very long time.

The play begins with a duologue of the two men, it sets up the scene. One is Billy (played by Waleed Akhtar), someone who is proud to mask the Pakistani-ness that comes with being a British S. Asian. Bilal is his real name, but I can understand (perhaps even empathise) with the way he removes himself from his original name, and asks to be referred to simply as ‘Billy’. He has a very unlikable character (he calls his colleague “fat” Jason and is image-obsessed), but he’s definitely  shines a light on a person you’ve surely met once in your life…that person could even be you! The way he bounces around the stage, a gym bunny taking his vest off at several points, performing this Duracell bunny-esque character that makes you believe he’s a deeply unhappy person.

Another troubled soul who we meet is Zafar, an asylum seeker played in an awkward and geekish manner by Esh Alladi. They meet at 2am in Soho, at an off-chance and develop an unlikely friendship. The depiction of someone whose woeful journey arriving to a hostile Britain, the twitches and sheer horror on his face feel so real – must be commended. The character study is clearly evident by Esh Alladi, and there’s so much heart in the way Zafar connects with the audience – I simply wanted to give him a big squeeze! The audience perhaps wouldn’t know of the Pakistani culture (such as Humsafar and Phulkari taanka design) but that really did impress me to say the least. The nuance achieved throughout. To say The P Word is a universal love story, and one of humanity that is shown on stage is an understatement. It is effectively a necessary, and important piece of theatre created by S. Asian creatives who put their heart and (Desi) soul into it. It’s so often forgotten how, in the debate surrounding diversity in the arts, we as creatives of colour often have to make do with crumbs. A PoC with a White partner, a half-baked attempt to make something fit for “DEI” purposes; this, is certainly not that story. And for me, I am so glad that it was given the green-light for it will be remembered and deserves wide acclaim for achieving what it set out to in this slick production. We need more of this storytelling, where we can offer more shades to those lived experiences the barely make a scratch on the surface.

I turned to my neighbour at the end (it’s a tight 120 min piece with no interval, perfectly choreographed as this does not once have you staring at your watch with the riveting action on stage), and said “we really do all see each other in Bilal“. She nodded and smiled, telling me she’d never heard Urdu spoken on the stage before. That in itself can encapsulate the power of a production like this, and it made me smile.

If there’s one piece of theatre all of the queer community (and our allies) need to see, it really is this: it will provide such insight on the plight of asylum seekers in the UK (and beyond), and also allow for the non-melanated folk amongst us to take a moment to re-assess how they are able to prevent Pride and relevant events from simply being a celebration of the privileged (cis-heteronormative) among us. We too need to operate a kindness, and play an active role in our communities, especially lifting up those on the fringes like Zafar and Bilal; ultimately, it’s only a celebration when we can be fighting for the rights of all, despite our differences and this piece seeks to expand the knowledge of how our queerness can sometimes cost us our lives.

📍Bush Theatre, until 22 October: https://www.bushtheatre.co.uk/event/the-p-word-2022/

Under 26 discount and local residents get a discount, tickets from £12.00

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