I had expected more. More meaning, more connection, more intimacy. The women on stage looked peaceful, serene, as though they had something to say but there were only words, weighty words perhaps, well pronounced words, words we could reflect on perhaps but words not used to connect or to communicate. Words that did not connect to become sentences in a piece that did not connect with me. Maybe that lack of connectedness was the point, as the piece (not sure I can call it a play) was about the medieval practice of anchoritism where women withdrew from the world and essentially entombed themselves in small spaces to better know God. Maybe the piece was structured to evoke a sense of fellow feeling with these anchorites who were attracted by the concept of being alone with God and found themselves merely alone, trapped, despairing, with the deadening reverberations of their own thoughts. If this was the intention then it worked and my not enjoying it was perhaps the point.
This guy has style.
Many years ago a Pakistani friend gave me a tape of ghazals sung by a woman with a haunting voice and written by the poet Faiz whose words were equally haunting. I lost the tape but did not forget the voice and was pleased to hear it again. There is a link to a translation here:
Although the words sound romantic and the poem is very beautiful in itself, I understand there are political undertones relating to the separation between Pakistan and Bangladesh.