Staff Writer Mohana Mitra examines the ways in which Tanika Gupta’s play ‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ refracts themes of homecoming, remembrance, and loss.
Tanika Gupta’s new play, ‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ is every bit as heartbreaking and hilarious as reviewers claim. Dealing with the story of a quintessential Bengali matriarch struggling with dementia while running a Michelin star restaurant, it manages to make itself relatable to an entire generation of immigrant Bengali families. Remembrance and avoidance are the lenses through which the family of four: three children and a widowed mother, attempt to navigate and battle their way through life. Being able to capture the essence of a different culture is no easy feat, and the play does a commendable job – urging the audience to reconsider their notions about families. Dealing with various stereotypes of Indian family dynamics, some true and some not, it tells a story of resentment, love and despair.
An Impressive Theatrical Feat
‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ takes off with the practical Bengali-British matriarch Queenie, (modeled off of King Lear) – owner of a Michelin star restaurant and mother to three successful children (all grown up now). Raj is a school teacher, Gopal, an advocate, and Kamala, a doctor. Queenie is widowed, though she isn’t particularly fond of the word. With her career at her prime, Queenie is a busy woman; thus it isn’t surprising when she begins to forget and misremember things. However, when it’s revealed that her bouts of memory loss have been forcing one of her employees to run the restaurant for a year, it’s clear that she needs a health checkup.
The NHS visit is quick to diagnose her with terminal Alzheimer’s. Her extremely busy children must take turns to host her at their house, look after her, and ensure she takes her medicine. However, as the disease progresses rapidly, hallucinations and memories of Ameet, her dead husband, begin to incessantly plague her. Growing more stubborn, unaccommodating and hurtful by the moment, Queenie’s confusion threatens to alienate her family and friends.
The race and gender-blind casting produces impressive actors, as each cast member pulls their weight and then some. Meera Syal is resplendent as Queenie as she traces the character through time, from a hopeful young woman in love with her husband to a hunched-over patient in a care-home, desperately trying to cling on to a semblance of control. Raj Bajaj, Natalie Dew and Marc Elliot are perfectly convincing in their roles as Bengalis brought up in England, from capturing subtle mannerisms to the language itself (excusing the accents at times). However, Zubin Varla (of “A Little Life” fame) brings the much-needed joy and childlike wonder to the show in his portrayal of Ameet, Queenie’s deceased husband. Playing a young man head over heels in love with his wife, he seems to manifest as a dream to Queenie to apparently guide her towards her death, and ultimately their reunion.
However, in spite of an overall impressive lineup of actors, the ones that stood out most were Stephen Fewell and Avita Jay. While playing a number of side characters, all with different professions, cultures, accents and backstories, the two actors were still able to display their attention to detail for each character. From a care-home attendant with a soft spot for Queenie to an unhelpful Indian embassy employee, the two manage to keep the play grounded in reality and still deeply appreciative of minor characters.
From the most basic set design, ‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ is able to construct lifelike situations with the use of illusions. Mangoes rain from seemingly nowhere, and a blanket over an empty chair somehow instantly morphs into a human figure. Not only this, the soundtrack and music score of the play is nothing if not apt for the story, especially with “Ekla Cholo Re” ringing out near the end.
Stereotype and Cultural Universalism
While the play boasts of a very clever and experienced hand when it comes to props and music, it does fall short in a few aspects. At times, it attempts to create a rapid switch-over from a somber mood and tone to a light-hearted one—a change that often feels quite jarring. This is especially so as it is coupled with an instantaneous change in lighting and the music cutting off randomly. However, this doesn’t distract from the clever and borderline shocking use of props.
Humor plays a significant role in the play, and thereby is a significant tool within the narrative. Shared humor and joy is used to patch up quite a few cracks in the family’s dynamics, something that is eerily relatable to me. The urge to cover up any kind of shared grief or trauma through fun and humor is, in my experience, a quintessential Bengali trait. For instance, the aftermath of my grandmother’s passing saw my entire extended family spending time in her house, catching up, cooking and having fun. Of course, in that time, there were moments of grief, but they were restricted to only that, brief moments, and nothing more. The last scene of the play echoes this precarious balance between grief and absurdity, as Queenie’s ashes are carried to India in a tupperware by Raj to prevent their being confiscated.
Ignoring feelings through avoidant behavior is stereotypically an Indian trait, as is expressed uncannily in the play. This, and other stereotypes, such as the typical “emotional blackmail” from the parents’ side for their children, is something Queenie’s children make fun of at times, but also end up falling victim to again and again. These particular cultural sore spots lead to the climax of the play: emotions erupt as old wounds resurface and plague Raj, Gopal and Kamala.
Heartbreak and Homecoming: Thematic links
Within its cultural context, the overwhelming loyalty of the three children is heartbreakingly familiar: unquestioning obedience to familial duty is a cornerstone of Indian identity. This is exactly what urges the three siblings to strive to honor Queenie’s wishes – to not be admitted to a care home and to have her ashes scattered in the Ganga, even when sickness threatens to blur the line between Queenie and her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. From screaming some particularly nasty things at Raj (“I wish I had aborted you”) to confusing Gopal for her deceased husband, Queenie’s grasp on reality shifts and with it shatters the resolve of the three children. All of the characters are, at this pivotal point, forced to choose to either take it all personally or attribute it to the severity of the disease – thereby separating the diseased version of their mother from the good memories.
The theme of resentment seems to course through the entirety of the play. The eldest son Raj, neglected during his childhood, feels hated and singled out as the failure of the family by his mother. As such, Raj harbors grudges against Queenie – ones that are difficult to blame entirely on either of them. The play confronts the emotional interplay between a parent’s self-prioritisation and her responsability to her dependent child. Raj never quite gets over the fact that Queenie sent him away to a relative for 3 years as she recovered from the sudden loss of her husband. He feels that she failed again, blaming Ameet’s death on Raj’s troublesome behavior as a teenager. It’s difficult to take Raj’s perspective at face value, however, as the demands of grief and three children clearly overwhelmed Queenie. The play, uncomfortably, forces the audience to confront that the best intentions are not enough to build and maintain a relationship.
However, at times, ‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ does seem to descend into stereotypes that are not necessarily true, about Indian parenting styles, something that can be seen on any average Bengali TV soap. The mother hates and mistreats her daughter-in-law and expects her children to choose between middle-class, respectable career choices (medicine, law or engineering). However, these lazy universalism becomes less saturated towards the latter half of the production, as the tone shifts towards a more tense and serious one. The role of Ameet, Queenie’s deceased husband, increases as the tale proceeds. He becomes a marker of Queenie’s declining health. As her family mourns, Queenie relives the joy of the uncomplicated time she spent as a new bride, and Ameet slowly and kindly beckons the fading Queenie to oblivion. Thus the tragedy of death becomes an inevitable, heartbreaking kindness.
Simply, ‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ confronts, most overwhelmingly, ‘homecoming’ through dialogue, acting, and stage design. Queenie’s fond remembrances of her home with Ameet, her insistance that her ashes be laid to rest in Ganga, and perhaps the theme of death itself, as a final ‘home,’ all produce a particular melancholy wherein the grief of loss is cut with the comfort of home.
‘A Tupperware of Ashes’ is playing at the Dorfman Theatre until November 16th, 2024.
