Watching Siachen, you can’t help but wonder if the makers knew the kind of creative challenge that they were up to while attempting a theatre play on the life of soldiers at the world’s highest-altitude battlefield, where the living conditions are extreme and it’s a place far, far away from home.

It’s a challenge because the very premise sets you up for some ‘stock’ characters and situations the likes of which you have seen in old, studio-sponsored war films. It’s as if you know what to expect.

You suspect that the narrative might drift into sentimentality, jingoism, and a glorification of the armed forces fighting a war against the enemy posted on the other side of the glacier.

When the play opens, the soldiers are leaving for their attachment (at Siachen) amid farewell notes from a little son, a young sister, and an old mother. It’s a beginning that is imbued with emotion, but nothing you haven’t seen before. Kudos to director Dawar Mehmood who lifts the scene by positioning his actors variously within the auditorium space, as a spotlight follows their respective voices. It’s a technique that removes, albeit temporarily, the filter between the audience and the performers, and gives you a sense of being part of the action.

Sadly, from here onwards, Siachen is a predictable affair. Well, almost. A bunch of troops is shown idling away the long, hard hours, stationed at the glacier. They play board games, banter with each other and, at times, with the (unseen) enemy; they crib about the unavailability of phone and the weak radio signals, say Eid prayers, and party, even as gunshots boom through the snowcapped peak.

There are also moments when they are compelled to ruminate on the absurdity of human life.

But, that’s about it. The tension never quite builds, not even when an Indian soldier lands at the Pakistani post. The audiences are left to wait for that one climactic high point which would never happen.

In fact, in the Indian soldier, the dramatist creates what is definitely the play’s most colourful character. He speaks Hindi in a Bihari accent and has a zany sense of humour that matches his comic antics, as he unsuccessfully tries to convince everybody that he is from Pakistan. Even his ‘interrogation’ sequence is amusing, to say the least. When he is forced to tell the name of the prime minister of Pakistan and he replies, "Mian Muhammad Raheel Shareef," the audience is in stitches.

It is in such funny one-liners that Siachen shines, as expected from scriptwriter Anwar Maqsood who is an old pro at satire.

References to cricketers and politicians of India and Pakistan abound. Even a Malik Riaz gets a (indirect) mention when a character in the play carries a placard announcing, "Bahria Town Barfeelay Plots for Sale." It is Maqsood’s satirical humour at work.

The arrival of Layla, a young and charming documentary film maker from BBC, adds colour to the lives of the soldiers who won’t miss a chance to flirt with her.

Again, her character does not quite propel any action or take the plot anywhere. It does, however, give Maqsood an opportunity to comment on the shallowness of media coverage. Consider, for instance, how Layla assumes Moosa Khan is from Mardan when he is from Chitral. Or, when she records (on her handycam) the soldiers’ confessions of the number of enemy troops they have killed so far. Much of it amounts to mere fluff.

Maqsood also takes a dig at our popular notions of martyrdom. A soldier becomes his mouthpiece when he quips, "Pakistan mein har marnay wala shaheed hai!" (In Pakistan, any one who dies is declared a martyr).

At another point in the play, Moosa Khan is thinking aloud: "Allama Iqbal ne khwab dekha, Quaid-i-Azam ne tabeer di. Dono mar gaye, par Bhutto aaj bhi zinda hai!" (Allama Iqbal saw the dream of Pakistan, Quaid-i-Azam realised it. Both died, but Bhutto is supposed to be still alive).

Out of all the characters in Siachen, Khan gets the maximum ‘stage time.’ So it might be safe to call him the protagonist. The rest of the bunch -- which includes an out-of-his-depth Shahid Afridi(!), the wife of a soldier who is in the family way and appears in a dream sequence only, and a "Major" with a swagger, who makes an entry mid-play -- have smaller but no less effective roles.

In the end, when all the soldiers are killed in an aerial attack, a Karim Khan is shown lying on the floor. It’s an emotionally charged sequence where he envisions his beloved mother showering her blessings on her martyred son. As she rises to lay a wreath made of Pakistan’s flag, the audience is deeply touched.

The play’s finale is even more uplifting. It has all the characters join in a capella singing of the national anthem. This brings Siachen to a glorious close.

Mention is due also to the cast of characters, especially the Karachi-based Hasan Raza who makes a buoyant Bihari (originally played by Dawar’s best bet Yasir Hussain who had to opt out of the Lahore shows because of his film assignments); Saad Farrukh Khan (as Moosa Khan), a Media Studies graduate from Islamabad; and Summayyia Sadozai who plays Karim Khan’s mother.

Anwar Maqsood and Dawar Mehmood’s latest collaboration, under the banner of KopyKats, comes hot on the heels of their highly acclaimed Aangan Terha, Half Playt and Pawney 14 August and its sequel. And to think that this is one play that the makers took to a much wider audience -- they have previously performed in Multan and Peshawar, apart from Karachi and Islamabad, which are the usual venues. Besides, Siachen had ticketed shows in Dubai early this year (the ticket price ranging between 150-1,000 dirhams per person). KopyKats demanded and got the price, all on the strength of their past laurels.

So, it is hard to accept the fact that Siachen is a let-down. Not that you expected team KopyKats to reimagine the war scenario, but the play could have been a lot more than a simplistic depiction of life at the glacier. For one thing, it could have raised some important questions on the futility of waging a war that has already left thousands of troops -- both Indian and Pakistani -- dead since the conflict began in 1984, not because of combat as much as landslides and frostbite.

Siachen is no regular war zone. At 20,000 feet above sea level, where winter temperature is known to plummet to minus 70 degrees Celsius, every passing moment is a fight for survival.

It’s also a constant fight against despair, especially in the event of an avalanche, or because the jawans are pining for their family and loved ones but don’t know what fate has in store.

As one of the soldiers in the play puts it, "Jang jeet rahe hain magar mausam ke haath mar rahe hain!" (We are winning the war but losing to the harsh weather).

Siachen’s performances continue at Alhamra The Mall, through May 7