ucked away in a quiet alley, The Colony captivates with its striking combination of stark white brick walls, adorned with vibrant abstract murals and glowing neon signs. This multidisciplinary creative hub, which serves as a sanctuary for artistic expression in Lahore, recently hosted a theatrical performance, titled The Lahore Liar, written and directed by Yashal Jalil.

As the audience passed through the second door in the main lobby, they were welcomed by a stage bathed in soft blue light, where a harmonious blend of electric and acoustic guitars filled the air. Though the stage was small, with two pillars partially obstructing the view, its worn mahogany surface told a story of countless performances. Cleverly placed mirrors helped offset the obstruction by the pillars, offering a more complete view of the performers. A printed flex depicting the fabled city of Lahore graced the far end, adding a sense of place and history to the space.

While the set of The Lahore Liar might not have met grand expectations, it poignantly reflected the state of theatre in Pakistan. Given the decline, these modest props and music became all the more precious.

After a delay of an hour and a half, the show finally began with an exuberant entrance by Shafi, a small-time swindler masquerading as an all-knowing, story-telling, show-stopping performer.

Shafi burst into song, and his jolly demeanour unexpectedly instilled a sense of trust in a little girl and her grandfather, two visitors exploring the Shahi Qila. Ever the trickster, Shafi used his melodic tales to distract them, stealing their belongings before locking them behind a door.

The opening scene set the stage for the story which was a tale of estrangement and a sense of belonging, love and hate, truth and deception. The play’s central theme was the intertwined stories of three souls in the same city.

The set now transformed into a roadside chai stall, where the main characters would meet up. First, there was Shujaat Hussain’s Ajmal, dressed in a simple shirt and slacks, reflecting his straightforward yet amicable nature. Ajmal was a man from London returning to Lahore after a decade to reconnect with the city and people from his past. Then there was Rehnuma (played by Maheen Waseem), stylishly clad in a blouse and jeans, accessorised with a dupatta, bangles and her grandmother’s diamond ring. Her attire symbolised a dual identity — an American-Pakistani deeply in love with writing and the city of Lahore.

Shafi (Ahmed Naveed) engaged in a playful argument with both, challenging their idealised notions about Lahore. What began as light-hearted banter soon evolved into a more profound discussion, as the trio embarked on a shared journey through the streets of Lahore. However, every scene hinted at an impending doom looming over their paths.

The opening scene sets the stage for the story which is a tale of estrangement and a sense of belonging, love and hate, truth and deception. The play’s central theme is the intertwined stories of three souls in the same city.

The trio explored several renowned locations, primarily to help Rehnuma familiarise herself with a city she had never visited. Every place they visited revealed a clue or added a twist to the unfolding narrative. At Data Darbar, Ajmal was hesitant when invited to enter the shrine, a fleeting mix of regret and fear visible in his eyes. At the Fort Road Food Street, Shafi cleverly diverted the conversation by breaking into a song, apparently to avoid the lies about to escape his lips. At the Shahi Qilla, Rehnuma lost a cherished family heirloom, the ring. Lost in her despair, she failed to realize that Shafi had stolen it.

This, however, wasn’t a surprise as the audience were already aware of Shafi’s antics. The real revelation was Ajmal being Shafi’s long-lost best friend and one of the “people from his past” he was trying to reconnect with.

This truth, however, backfired. Ajmal hid his identity from Shafi all along. Feeling betrayed yet again by his best friend, Shafi refused to acknowledge Ajmal, accusing him of abandoning him at a critical time in his childhood when his parents passed away and his sister was married off, leaving Shafi to fend for himself. The abandonment supposedly led to his thieving habit.

Overwhelmed with guilt for deserting his brother-in-arms, Ajmal chose not to expose Shafi’s actions. Instead, he turned a blind eye to Shafi’s misdeeds and headed back to the Darbar, embarking on a journey to seek forgiveness for his own sins. The show reached its climax as Ajmal encountered Shafi yet again. In a moment of emotional reconciliation, the two characters resolved to put their troubled past behind them.

The theme of The Lahore Liar was indeed thoughtful, but it fell short of the anticipated impact. Rehnuma, featured prominently at the start, was later sidelined in favour of the two childhood friends. This made it seem as though she was merely a plot device. However, the character had the potential to contribute a lot more to the story.

Ajmal’s character too lacked depth; his defining traits were more ‘told’ than exhibited. However, given that this was YJC Theatre Company’s debut production, there is hope for growth and improvement in their future endeavours.

On a positive note, there were notable strengths in the production. Faiq Ahsan excelled in his role as Rameez, the chai wala, providing the much-needed comic relief with his antics and witty dialogue. The deliberate typos in “Rameez Snakes Cornur and Hotal” added a humorous touch.

The use of lighting to convey the mood is a familiar technique. It was particularly effective in The Lahore Liar. The background score, paired with the other performers’ dhol (drums) and singing, was well-suited. It was complemented by Ahmed Naveed’s impromptu songs and Sheikh Ali’s dynamic guitar performance.

Meeral Mansoor is a student based in Lahore