Tap on the image and discover the person behind the character.
Scene 1
Performed by Varun Vazir.
Set in Sindh in the nineteenth century, the opening monologue introduces Navalrai Advani, one of the first four Sindhi students to appear for the Bombay University matriculation examination in 1865. Only one of them passes, but Navalrai looks back on his failure with humour rather than regret.
He describes an era in which modern education was only beginning to become available in Sindh, and explains how failure led him and others of his generation to build schools, colleges, associations, newspapers and social movements. His attention turns particularly to the exclusion of girls and women from education and medical care. The monologue transforms one failed examination into a larger reflection on learning as a social responsibility: education is not merely a personal achievement, but the means by which an entire community can advance.
The inspiration
Navalrai Shoukiram Advani was one of the first four students from Sindh to sit the Bombay University matriculation examination in 1865. He did not pass. But failure did not diminish his belief in education or his determination to widen access to it. He became part of a generation of social reformers who established schools, promoted girls’ education and challenged customs that restricted women’s lives. His story asks us to reconsider what success means: not merely personal achievement, but the resolve to create opportunities for others.
One of Sindh’s earliest matriculation candidates, Navalrai failed the examination—but went on to help expand education and social reform, especially for girls and women.
References
The four sons of Mukhi Shoukiram https://sindhstories.wordpress.com/2026/08/15/the-four-sons-of-mukhi-shoukiram/
The Sindh Story by K. R. Malkani: https://sanipanhwar.com/uploads/books/2024-08-29_13-05-56_9415e8449215959d01f22c94a43e6758.pdf
The Source of Sindhi Surnames extracted from History of the Hindus of Sindh by Diwan Bherumal Mahirchand Advani, 1946-1947, translated by Narain Kimatrai: https://shakunkimatrai.com/the-source-of-sindhi-surnames/ and
https://shakunkimatrai.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/history-of-hindus-in-sind.pdf
A heritage structure still exists in Hyderabad today with the name of Navalrai Clock Tower: https://heritage.eftsindh.com/site/430/hyderabad/navalrai-tower
The place where Navalrai Market stands today, was a timber storage and godown with a saw mill in 1892.
Hiranand, the Soul of Sindh by Dayaram Gidumal
Scene 2
Performed by Barkha Fatnani
Kamala Hiranand recounts her emergence as a writer, activist and leader during the freedom movement in Sindh. Even as a schoolgirl, she writes boldly about women’s rights and injustice. As a young woman, she leads protests against British rule, lies down outside the District Collector’s office to prevent an auction of foreign liquor licences, and later goes on hunger strike in prison to demand dignified clothing and basic privacy for women prisoners.
Kamala gives her jewellery to Gandhi and, after marrying journalist Hiranand Karamchand, takes charge of his newspaper when he is arrested. When Congress leaders are jailed in 1932, she assumes responsibility for directing the movement in Hyderabad, earning the title “the Dictator of Hyderabad.” Her monologue restores a Sindhi woman to her rightful place in the history of India’s freedom struggle and insists that women should be remembered not only for sacrifice and courage, but for exercising leadership and power.
The inspiration
Born Devi Kripalani, Kamala Hiranand was still a schoolgirl when she began writing about women’s rights, and barely twenty when she began leading protests against British rule. She picketed foreign cloth and liquor, endured imprisonment and challenged prison authorities over the treatment of women. When Congress leaders were jailed in 1932, she was appointed the “Dictator of Hyderabad”, coordinating the movement in their absence.
Marriage did little to moderate her activism. Her husband, journalist Hiranand Karamchand, shared her convictions, and when he was imprisoned, Kamala helped keep their nationalist newspaper Hindu alive. Her resistance could be audacious, inventive and intensely practical: she once stopped an auction of foreign liquor licences simply by lying across the entrance to the Collector’s bungalow and refusing to move.
Kamala’s story is not simply that of a woman who participated in the freedom movement. She was trusted to lead it.
“I did not fight so women could be praised for their sacrifice. I fought so they could be trusted with power.”
After Partition, Kamala and Hiranand moved to Bombay. Hiranand revived the newspaper there as Hindustan, choosing to continue serving the displaced Sindhi community rather than joining an English-language newspaper. Their home in Colaba became a gathering place for Sindhi writers, intellectuals and artists; Ram Panjwani was among those who performed there. A biographical account of Hiranand describes him as remaining at the head of Hindustan for roughly twenty-five years.
Writer. Protester. Prisoner. And, in 1932, the woman entrusted with leading Hyderabad’s freedom movement.
Before Partition, she helped use a newspaper to give voice to people fighting for freedom. After Partition, that same journalistic world helped give voice to a community that had lost its homeland.
Karachi Municipal Congress
Kamala Hiranand 2nd from the left in the bottom row.
links
Image courtesy Jyoti Punwani, her sister Leela’s daughter.
Karachi Congress
Scene 3
Performed by Deesh Mariwala.
Born in Hyderabad, Sindh, Tulsi grows up in Indonesia and subsequently lives in Poona, Nigeria, Hong Kong, New Jersey, Panama and Santiago, Chile.
His life becomes an answer to the apparently simple but (for a Sindhi) deeply complicated question: “Where are you from?”
Tulsi’s journey represents both the long history of Sindhi mercantile movement and the more profound dispersal caused by Partition. He describes how Sindhis carried their gods, food, language, memories and commercial instincts across continents, repeatedly creating homes in unfamiliar places. Yet beneath this adaptability remains an enduring uncertainty about belonging. Tulsi rejects the description of Sindhis as rootless: their roots have become mobile, extending through trade routes, family relationships, places of worship and networks of mutual support. His story presents home not as a single territory, but as a living connection carried across the world.
The inspiration
Born in Hyderabad, Sindh, Tulsi Mohinani grew up in Indonesia. His life then took him to partitioned India, Africa, Hong Kong, the United States, Panama and Chile.
Along the way he built a successful business life, but there is remarkably little self-importance about him. Down-to-earth and matter-of-fact about his achievements, one of his abiding regrets is that family responsibilities prevented him from completing his education. And with the understanding of what lost opportunity meant, about twenty years ago Tulsi began offering scholarships to young Indians in Chile whose families could not afford to send them to college. More than twenty have since graduated and gone on to professional careers. Among them is Chilean biochemist Komal Dadlani, co-founder of Lab4U, whose achievements have brought her international recognition.
Tulsi’s story captures one of the paradoxes of the Sindhi diaspora: a community dispersed across the world, extraordinarily adept at adapting and beginning again, yet carrying with it the memory of a homeland most could never return to.
From Sindh to Indonesia, Africa, Hong Kong and the Americas—a life of extraordinary journeys, lived with remarkable simplicity.
References
You can see Tulsi and hear his story, in his own words, here: https://www.sahapedia.org/my-ordinary-life-seventy-years-and-five-continents
Scene 4
Performed by Monica Mahendru.
An unnamed woman stands alone and speaks as the personification of the Sindhi language. She recalls leaving Sindh in 1947, carrying the language into exile through speech, prayer and memory. However, when the Constitution of India recognises fourteen languages in 1950, Sindhi is excluded.
During the long campaign for recognition, the community confronts difficult questions about whether a language without a territory can survive. The adoption of Devanagari as a script for Sindhi appears to offer a solution, but also separates younger generations from the language’s existing literature. The later acceptance of both Devanagari and the Perso-Arabic Sindhi script divides an already dispersed community still further. Refusing to reveal her name until her language is fully acknowledged, the character becomes a voice for an inheritance that remains unwritten and uncounted, but continues to speak.
The inspiration
Sindhi crossed the border in 1947 with the people who spoke it, but without the land and institutions that had sustained it for centuries.
It was a language with a rich literary inheritance — of poetry, philosophy, mysticism, history and storytelling, with writers such as Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai at its heart. After Partition, however, its speakers were scattered across India and the world. With no Sindhi-speaking state in India, new generations grew up surrounded by other languages, and Sindhi gradually retreated from schools, public life and, eventually, many homes.
The question of script deepened the rupture. Sindhi had long been written in a Perso-Arabic script, through which generations could access its literature. In newly-Partitioned India, Devanagari was introduced as an alternative. The resulting division meant that even those who continued to speak Sindhi might grow up unable to read the books, poetry and writing inherited from earlier generations.
Today, many Sindhis understand the language imperfectly, speak fragments of it, or do not speak it at all. The Nameless gives voice not simply to a language in decline, but to a literary inheritance becoming inaccessible to its own descendants—and to a language that, despite everything, is still being spoken in corners around the world.
A literary language separated from its land, divided by script and fading from the lives of its own descendants.
This is not the story of Sindhi everywhere. In Sindh itself, the language remains very much alive: according to Pakistan’s 2023 Census, around 60 per cent of the province’s population speaks Sindhi as its mother tongue, and the Perso-Arabic script remains in use.
Nor has the language stood still. Sindh has always absorbed people, languages and cultures, and Sindhi has continued to evolve with the changing population of its homeland. This openness to outside influences — and the ability to absorb, adapt and make them one’s own — has long been characteristic of Sindhi culture.
Partition consequently produced two very different journeys for the language: in Sindh, it remained rooted and continued to evolve; among the dispersed community in India, the very adaptability that helped Sindhis build new lives also made their mother tongue more vulnerable.
Scene 5
Performed by Barkha Fatnani.
Shamlu remembers travelling as a child with her father, Rupchand R. Kirpalani, from Karachi to Jalalani Sharif in Sindh. There, followers gathered around Saeen Nasir Faqir Jalalani, a Muslim spiritual teacher whose teachings crossed religious boundaries.
Saeenjin initiates Hindu and Muslim followers into naam, a meditative practice centred on breath, awareness and silent prayer. Each person uses words drawn from their own religious tradition, while the meaning and spiritual purpose remain the same. Shamlu recalls receiving her own naam at the age of nine, the shared meals and gatherings at the village, and her father’s practice of reciting from both the Guru Granth Sahib and the Quran. After Partition, he preserves Saeenjin’s teachings in a book titled Sufi Suhno. The annual gathering at Jalalani Sharif continues to draw both Hindus and Muslims, demonstrating a spiritual inheritance that borders and political divisions have not extinguished.
The inspiration
Shamlu Dudeja grew up in Karachi in a family whose spiritual life crossed the boundaries of organised religion with ease. Her father, Rupchand, was a devoted follower of the Muslim Sufi teacher Saeen Nasir Faqir Jalalani, and from childhood Shamlu travelled with him to Jalalani Sharif, where Hindu and Muslim devotees gathered around the same teacher.
She was nine when she received naam, a practice of silent prayer through breath. Hindu followers were given words from their own tradition, Muslim followers from theirs; the path was different, but the destination was understood to be the same.
At home, too, faith was not contained within a single religious tradition. Shamlu remembers her father reciting from the Guru Granth Sahib as well as the Quran, and teaching his children what he had learnt from Saeenjin: to curb the ego, live simply, share with those who had less, and recognise the divine in everyone.
Partition created a national border across this world, but did not entirely sever it. The family continued to return to Jalalani Sharif whenever they could, and Rupchand later gathered Saeenjin’s teachings into a book, Sufi Suhno.
Shamlu’s story preserves something once deeply embedded in the culture of Sindh: a way of believing in which religious difference did not have to mean spiritual separation.
You can read more about Shamlu and her life of varied accomplishments on Sindh Stories.
Scene 6
Performed by Deesh Mariwala.
Harnam recalls leaving Sindh and arriving in Bombay during the monsoon before settling in Ahmedabad. The rain brings back memories of Banguldero, the village in Larkano district where he was born in 1934, and of the floods that repeatedly disturbed the apparent security of his childhood.
After a devastating flood in 1948, his family moves to Taib, where Hindus and Muslims continue to live together peacefully even after Partition. Harnam also looks back critically at the social and economic inequalities within village life. Although there is no immediate communal hostility, the murder of a Hindu landowner by his farm worker creates a sense that their security can no longer be trusted. The family leaves Sindh in 1951. When Harnam returns in 1985, local people welcome him warmly and ask why they had left. His story reveals that displacement is not always caused by a single act of violence: people may leave because uncertainty has made the ground beneath them feel permanently unstable.
The inspiration
Harnam Badlani was born in 1934 in Banguldero, a village in Larkana district, into a landowning family. His childhood memories are of a rural Sindh where Hindus and Muslims lived alongside one another, but also of a society marked by inequalities he would come to recognise more clearly with time.
Displacement entered his life even before Partition. The devastating floods of 1942 destroyed homes and took lives, and when the river flooded again in 1948, his family left Banguldero for the village of Taib. There, Harnam walked six miles each day to attend school in Ratodero.
Partition had already divided the country, but for a time everyday life in Taib continued much as before. Harnam remembers mosques and tikanos, Hindu and Muslim neighbours, teachers and students living within the same village world. It was not a sudden eruption of communal hatred that eventually persuaded his family to leave. Rather, incidents of violence and a growing sense of insecurity gradually made a future there seem impossible.
In 1951, the family left Sindh. They travelled through Karachi, stayed at the Lakshminarayan Mandir while waiting for passage, and sailed to Bombay before settling in Ahmedabad. Harnam completed his matriculation there, but circumstances prevented him from continuing his education
Harnam’s story first appeared in Sindh: Stories from a Vanished Homeland. You can read it on Sindh Stories.
Scene 7
Performed by Monica Mahendru & Varun Vazir
The final scene is a dialogue between the siblings Sati and Vishnu, who revisit memories that remained largely unspoken throughout their lives. Their father had migrated from Hyderabad, Sindh, to Poona (now Pune) before Partition and established the Modern Book Stall in 1926. The shop becomes both the family’s livelihood and a site of resistance to British rule.
During the Quit India movement, Vishnu writes and distributes anti-British material. When the police discover his pamphlet, An Appeal to British Troops, he and his father are imprisoned in Yerwada Jail. At the age of twenty-one, Sati takes responsibility for running the shop and supporting the family. When Vishnu is released on 15 August 1947, the exhilaration of Independence is accompanied by the shock of discovering that Sindh—the homeland of the community for whose freedom he had fought—is now across a new national border.
The siblings reflect on the different forms taken by displacement. Vishnu’s education is interrupted, while Sati later becomes a teacher of English literature at Fergusson College and finds even her name changed from Sati to Sita. Their conversation brings together political resistance, personal sacrifice, Partition and the silences through which families survived. The production ends by remembering that freedom did not simply arrive one morning: it was written, printed, hidden, burnt, smuggled, spoken—and carried forward by those who continued after everything had been broken.
The inspiration
Sati and Vishnu Shahani grew up around the Modern Book Stall, established by their father in Poona in 1926 after he came from Hyderabad, Sindh. In the years of the freedom movement, the little bookshop became much more than a family business.
Their father openly displayed nationalist literature in its windows. Vishnu joined the Quit India movement, writing and circulating material against British rule. When the police searched their home, his mother hurriedly burnt incriminating papers in the family’s coal heater—but enough remained to lead to the arrest of Vishnu and his father. Both were imprisoned in Yerwada Jail.
Sati was twenty-one. With the men in prison and the family’s livelihood at stake, she stepped into a world she had barely inhabited before and took charge of the Modern Book Stall. She learnt to deal with customers, suppliers and accounts because, as she would later remember it, there was simply no alternative. The family had to survive.
Freedom brought another, more complicated reckoning. Vishnu emerged from prison into an independent India, but the family’s ancestral homeland was now across a new border. He had fought for India’s freedom; neither he nor his family had imagined that freedom would also mean losing Sindh.
The siblings went on to build very different lives. Vishnu never resumed the education interrupted by the freedom struggle. Sati studied English literature and eventually taught at Fergusson College. Even there, displacement followed her in a smaller but revealing way: at her interview, the head of the department of English at Fergusson College said, “Sati! What kind of name is that?” And Sati was always known to her students as Sita Shahani.
For decades, much of what the family had experienced remained largely unspoken. Like so many families rebuilding their lives after Partition, they had been too occupied with moving forward to dwell upon what had happened.
Neither knows the whole story. Vishnu remembers the shop and political activity from the inside; Sati remembers watching it from the edges and then suddenly being forced into its centre. The dialogue lets one family history emerge from two sets of memories.
A brother went to prison for India’s freedom. His sister kept the family alive. When freedom came, they discovered that Sindh was no longer theirs.
Tales from Yerwada Jail
Years later, Vishnu’s wife, Rita Shahani, gathered these memories into Tales from Yerwada Jail. The book tells the story through the recollections of different members of the family, and in doing so reveals something larger about the way history is actually lived. Each person’s world revolves around what happened to them: the son drawn into rebellion, the father sent to prison, the mother destroying incriminating papers before the police arrived, the daughter suddenly responsible for keeping the family business alive. No one person sees the whole story. Placed alongside one another, however, these individual memories reveal how a great political movement entered a family home and changed each life differently.
Their story brings together two histories often told separately: the exhilaration of fighting for India’s freedom and the bewildering loss that freedom brought to Sindhis. It also remembers the different ways in which people took part—not only those who went to prison, but those who stayed outside and kept life going.
You can see pictures of Vishnu and his family as well as Sati in this book.
Pahinjo Kirdaar (“Our Identity”) grew out of fifteen years of oral history interviews by writer and researcher Saaz Aggarwal. Across hundreds of life stories, recurring themes of education, freedom, migration, language and shared faith revealed aspects of Sindhi history and culture little known even within the community itself.
Drawing on Saaz’s oral histories, writer-director Nikhil Katara created a series of dramatic stories. Through memory, humour, struggle and resilience, an accomplished ensemble of actors, accompanied by evocative live music, transforms oral history into compelling theatre.
The result is a moving exploration of memory, identity and belonging — and an invitation to discover a chapter of India’s cultural history that deserves to be far better known.
The troupe of Pahinjo Kirdaar brings together highly accomplished Mumbai theatre professionals, each with a substantial and distinctive body of work as an actor, director, writer, musician or educator. Through an extended rehearsal process and eight public performances to date, they have grown into a closely attuned ensemble within this evolving production. Each has contributed not only to individual characterisation but also to the rhythm, movement, music and emotional texture of the whole, developing a shared understanding of the histories they carry onstage and a deep investment in the material.
Deesh Mariwala has worked in theatre for over four decades as an actor, writer, director and teacher. He has been part of more than 150 productions across the world – primarily in India and the UK – performing a wide range of theatrical traditions, from intimate devised work to classical drama. A lifelong devotee of Shakespeare and of performing in verse, his practice is rooted in physical performance and ensemble work, with a strong emphasis on the expressive possibilities of the actor’s body. Alongside performing, he has trained generations of young theatre practitioners. His wit, versatility and unmistakable stage presence have made him one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary Indian theatre.
Monica Mahendru is a theatre-trained actor whose work spans stage, screen and devised performance. She discovered theatre at the age of thirty and has described the stage as her true home ever since. Trained through Prayas Theatre in Aotearoa New Zealand, she has performed at the Auckland Arts Festival, Singapore Fringe Festival and Serendipity Arts Festival, and was a finalist at the Mahindra Excellence in Theatre Awards. Her screen work includes feature films, television and digital productions including Accused (2026), Guilty Minds (2022), Better Life Foundation (2016) and Dear Friend (2022). Her theatre practice is distinguished by its emotional honesty, curiosity and collaborative spirit.
Varun Vazir is an actor, theatre practitioner and speech-and-drama facilitator. He has appeared in numerous stage productions, television and OTT series, and feature films, including Mrs Chatterjee vs Norway, as well as more than fifty television commercials. Equally passionate about performance and education, he works extensively with children and young people, helping them develop confidence through theatre. Before becoming a full-time actor, he also worked in journalism and advertising, experiences that continue to inform his approach to storytelling.
Barkha Fatnani is a theatre director, actor, musician, dancer and arts educator whose practice brings together performance, music and storytelling. A long-standing member of Gillo Repertory Theatre, she has performed, directed and created work for audiences across India and internationally, including artist residencies and theatre festivals in South Korea, Italy and Germany. She has written and directed several solo performances for young audiences and is deeply committed to theatre as a space for learning and connection. A gifted multi-instrumentalist, Barkha has created the live musical score for Pahinjo Kirdaar, where her evocative soundscape and inventive use of music and sound effects are integral to the storytelling.
Nikhil Katara is a Mumbai-based theatre director, writer and educator whose work is rooted in storytelling and the belief that theatre can open conversations across generations and communities. As Artistic Director of Readings in the Shed, he has created original productions and adapted historical material for the stage, combining research with an accessible, deeply human theatrical language.
His theatre credits include The Bose Legacy, presented at Indian Consulates in Moscow, London and Hong Kong, as well as The Stalemate and productions for INT Aditya Birla Academy. His work also extends to film, where he co-directed and acted in Between You & Me and directed the award-winning climate film Home is Here. He teaches Theatre & Stagecraft at Wilson College, Mumbai, and has also written extensively on culture and society.
In Pahinjo Kirdaar, Nikhil transforms fifteen years of oral history interviews into a series of compelling theatrical encounters, inviting audiences to experience history not as distant events, but through the lives of the people who lived it.
Saaz Aggarwal is a writer, oral historian, artist and independent researcher whose current work is devoted to documenting and bringing wider recognition to Sindhi history, identity and culture. Over fifteen years, she has recorded hundreds of oral-history interviews with Sindhis in India and across the world, creating the body of research from which Pahinjo Kirdaar emerged. Her books and public-history projects draw upon personal testimony, family archives and historical research to recover experiences often absent from mainstream accounts.
The troupe of Pahinjo Kirdaar brings together highly accomplished Mumbai theatre professionals, each with a substantial and distinctive body of work as an actor, director, writer, musician or educator. Through an extended rehearsal process and eight public performances to date, they have grown into a closely attuned ensemble within this evolving production. Each has contributed not only to individual characterisation but also to the rhythm, movement, music and emotional texture of the whole, developing a shared understanding of the histories they carry onstage and a deep investment in the material.
Deesh Mariwala has worked in theatre for over four decades as an actor, writer, director and teacher. He has been part of more than 150 productions across the world – primarily in India and the UK – performing a wide range of theatrical traditions, from intimate devised work to classical drama. A lifelong devotee of Shakespeare and of performing in verse, his practice is rooted in physical performance and ensemble work, with a strong emphasis on the expressive possibilities of the actor’s body. Alongside performing, he has trained generations of young theatre practitioners. His wit, versatility and unmistakable stage presence have made him one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary Indian theatre.
Monica Mahendru is a theatre-trained actor whose work spans stage, screen and devised performance. She discovered theatre at the age of thirty and has described the stage as her true home ever since. Trained through Prayas Theatre in Aotearoa New Zealand, she has performed at the Auckland Arts Festival, Singapore Fringe Festival and Serendipity Arts Festival, and was a finalist at the Mahindra Excellence in Theatre Awards. Her screen work includes feature films, television and digital productions including Accused (2026), Guilty Minds (2022), Better Life Foundation (2016) and Dear Friend (2022). Her theatre practice is distinguished by its emotional honesty, curiosity and collaborative spirit.
Varun Vazir is an actor, theatre practitioner and speech-and-drama facilitator. He has appeared in numerous stage productions, television and OTT series, and feature films, including Mrs Chatterjee vs Norway, as well as more than fifty television commercials. Equally passionate about performance and education, he works extensively with children and young people, helping them develop confidence through theatre. Before becoming a full-time actor, he also worked in journalism and advertising, experiences that continue to inform his approach to storytelling.
Barkha Fatnani is a theatre director, actor, musician, dancer and arts educator whose practice brings together performance, music and storytelling. A long-standing member of Gillo Repertory Theatre, she has performed, directed and created work for audiences across India and internationally, including artist residencies and theatre festivals in South Korea, Italy and Germany. She has written and directed several solo performances for young audiences and is deeply committed to theatre as a space for learning and connection. A gifted multi-instrumentalist, Barkha has created the live musical score for Pahinjo Kirdaar, where her evocative soundscape and inventive use of music and sound effects are integral to the storytelling.
Nikhil Katara is a Mumbai-based theatre director, writer and educator whose work is rooted in storytelling and the belief that theatre can open conversations across generations and communities. As Artistic Director of Readings in the Shed, he has created original productions and adapted historical material for the stage, combining research with an accessible, deeply human theatrical language.
His theatre credits include The Bose Legacy, presented at Indian Consulates in Moscow, London and Hong Kong, as well as The Stalemate and productions for INT Aditya Birla Academy. His work also extends to film, where he co-directed and acted in Between You & Me and directed the award-winning climate film Home is Here. He teaches Theatre & Stagecraft at Wilson College, Mumbai, and has also written extensively on culture and society.
In Pahinjo Kirdaar, Nikhil transforms fifteen years of oral history interviews into a series of compelling theatrical encounters, inviting audiences to experience history not as distant events, but through the lives of the people who lived it.
Saaz Aggarwal is a writer, oral historian, artist and independent researcher whose current work is devoted to documenting and bringing wider recognition to Sindhi history, identity and culture. Over fifteen years, she has recorded hundreds of oral-history interviews with Sindhis in India and across the world, creating the body of research from which Pahinjo Kirdaar emerged. Her books and public-history projects draw upon personal testimony, family archives and historical research to recover experiences often absent from mainstream accounts.
In Pahinjo Kirdaar, Saaz appears as the narrator, introducing the production and locating its individual stories within their larger historical context. She returns to the stage at the end to lead the audience interaction, an integral part of every performance. The questions and conversations that follow allow audiences to engage more deeply with the histories presented and often bring forth further memories, connections and personal testimony.
When Saaz first shared these interviews with me, I saw them simply as material for a play. I hadn’t imagined that the process of reading them would also become a journey into my own identity.
Like many Sindhis of my generation, I had grown up with fragments—a few words of the language, familiar food, family customs, stories heard in passing—but very little understanding of the history and culture that connected them. As I read interview after interview, I began to recognise not only a remarkable community, but a part of myself that I had never really explored.
What moved me most was that these were not extraordinary people telling extraordinary stories. They were ordinary lives, told with honesty, humour and quiet dignity. Through them, history became personal.
Our task was to honour those voices without turning them into history lessons. We wanted each character to feel immediate and alive, allowing audiences to encounter them as people first, and only then discover the history they carry within them.
I hope that, whether or not you have any connection with Sindh, you leave the theatre feeling what I did – that another person’s story can unexpectedly illuminate something about your own.
Nikhil Katara
Writer and Director
When I began recording oral history interviews in 2011, I knew very little about Sindhis beyond my mother’s family. Like most people, I had never really been interested. Sindhis seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time – part of the background, but rarely spoken about or thought about. I was aware of the stereotypes, and although they never matched the people I knew best, and though I had never given them much thought, they still made me wary.
Then I started listening.
One conversation led to another, and gradually a very different picture began to emerge. I discovered stories of courage, scholarship, public service, literature, migration and shared faith that I had never encountered growing up. What astonished me most was that these stories were not hidden. They had simply stopped being told – not only to the wider world, but often among Sindhis themselves.
As I began to understand what had been lost, I also knew I wanted to share it. Over the years I have tried to do that through books, talks, podcasts, exhibitions, media features, academic papers and – as everyone who knows me will tell you – conversations. Once I get started, I don’t stop.
Each has reached a different audience. Pahinjo Kirdaar is the newest chapter in that journey.
Watching these oral histories transformed into theatre has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Through Nikhil Katara’s sensitive direction and the extraordinary performances of the cast, voices that once lived only in recorded interviews now breathe, laugh, argue and remember before a live audience. Time and again, I have watched people who knew nothing of Sindhi history leave the theatre feeling that they have met people they somehow already knew.
For me, that is the greatest gift of storytelling.
Saaz Aggarwal
Writer and Oral Historian
FEB 2026
Kala Ghoda Arts Festival
Mumbai
MAR 2026
National Gallery of Modern Art (NGMA)
Mumbai
MAY 2026
Zapurza
Pune
MAY 2026
Raah
Pune
MAY 2026
Pune International Centre
Pune
AUG 2026
Jai Hind High School
Pimpri
AUG 2026
Poona Music Society
Pune
SEP 2026
Nita Mukesh Ambani Cultural Centre
Mumbai