Acha Bacha, livre ebook

• Acha Bacha is a love letter to all queer and trans South Asians who have endured pain from their family and/or the world.
• Bilal began writing the play after they were sexually assaulted, using it as a way to understand if their mother would ever think they were a good person after knowing what happened.

Zaya: Oh, hey, pretty woman. Hey . . .

Mafully opens her eyes and slapsZaya’s hand away.

Ma: Hey hey, ka bacha, salaam karne bul gaye?

Zaya: Oh my god, Ma, I was just saying hi.

Ma: Tho phir salaam karo.

Zaya: Assalaam’olaikum.

Ma: Good. Walekum’assalaam.

MainspectsZaya.

Arey, yeh patiwi pant kyun pein rahey ho?

Matouches the rips inZaya’s jeans.

Zaya: It’s fashion, Ma. I love your outfit.

Ma: Shukriya. You look tired.

Zaya: Oh, thank you.

Ma: You are sleeping?

Zaya: Yes. Kind of. Look, I know you aren’t sleeping. You fell this morning way before you usually wake up. Are you okay? How’s your wrist?

Ma: Teekh hai.

Zaya: How did it happen? How did you fall?

Ma: Mera shawl floor pey tha.

Zaya: Why was your shawl on the floor?

Ma: Mujhe kaise patha?

Zaya: Seriously?

Ma: Kya seriously? I don’t see it aur meh girgayi. Next time I open my eye meh yahan pey hoon. Since eight-thirty a.m.!!!

Zaya: Sorry . . . I got delayed getting here.

Ma: Kaise aayo?

Zaya: My friend drove me.

Ma: Kaun?

Zaya: Salim. The teacher? Remember? The one who would ask for your biryani recipe / every time—

Ma: Oh. Haan, haan.

Zaya: Yeah, they’re just—Salim’s just—we’ve got a lot of things to do today . . . So I actually can’t stay too long. I’m sorry.

Ma: Kyun?

Zaya: Well I need a ride back home.

Ma: Laila dey sakti hai.

Zaya: No, she can’t. I’m pretty sure she said she can’t get here for a few hours.

Ma: Tho phir wait karo. Mere saath.

Zaya: I can’t. I told you I’ve got things to do today.

Ma: Work hai?

Zaya: No, but I—

Ma: Tho phir kya?

Zaya: Well Salim’s leaving for a big trip tonight and—actually, Salim’s gonna do Umrah. With their mom.

Ma: Hm.

Zaya: You know, Mecca. The pilgrimage thing?

Ma: Tum mujhe Umrah explain karo gey?

Zaya: No, sorry. Uh, so Salim needs to finish packing and buy a gift for their mom and I wanna help with that, so . . .

Ma: Uske paas koi aur friends nahi hai jo—

Zaya: Ma, I want to help.

Ma: Tho phir yahan kyun aayo?

Zaya: I want to see you. I just can’t stay too long.

Ma: Faida kya hai?

Zaya: Ma, come on, I’ll see you in two days for Eid.

Ma: Nahi nahi, tum jao. Agar tum jaana chathey hai tho jao, aur meh yahan akheli mar jaaongi. Teekh hai?

Zaya: Don’t say that. You’re not gonna die, Ma.

Ma: Tumko kaise patha?

Zaya: The nurse said you’re fine.

Ma: Nurse don’t know ke I have son who don’t care for me. Meh aisi mar jaaongi, I guarantee you!

Zaya: Ma, I do care about you—I do.

Ma: Good. Tho phir aaj mere saath gahar aao. Bas. Yeh done deal hai.

Zaya: Ma—

Ma: No more Ma Ma Ma! No, no!

Zayacan’t say anything. He checks his phone for a text fromSalim. Nothing. He puts it away.

Zaya: Hey, so um, just this morning I started thinking about that masjid we used to go to, like twenty years ago. You remember it?

Ma: Kaun sa masjid?

Zaya: It was in the basement of a house. You sent Laila and me there every day after school for a couple of months or something.

Ma: Oh, haan haan.

Zaya: Do you—remember anything about it? Like, do you remember walking down the stairs and wasn’t the smaller prayer room on the—

Ma: Beta, why you are asking me? Mujhe nahi patha . . .

Zaya: But do you remember anything about it? Do you remember when the masjid closed down? The day after Eid that year?

Ma: Twenty year ago is so long time, kaise yeh umeed rakh saktey ho ke mujhe / yeh sab yaad ho ga?

Zaya: You remember the maulana saab at least, right?

Beat.Manods.

Okay, and his son Mubeen? Or, Farah auntie? Do you still keep in touch with any of the aunties?

Ma: Haan, hum . . . baat kartey hain.

Zaya: What about Naima auntie? She was always so loud, right? And remember her daughter Sadiya? Laila’s old friend?

Ma: Oh haan, Sadiya, very sweet girl. Acha ab bathao, tumhari biwi kahan hai?

Zaya: What??

Ma: Kab shaadi karo gey?

Zaya: I’m not talking about this.

Zayachecks his phone again.

Ma: Kyun nahi?

Zaya: I told you before, I’m not ready.

Ma: Kab ready ho gey? You are twenty-eight . . .

Zaya: So what?

Ma: Tho jab mein yahan se nik lungi, meh seedhi Pakistan jaongi aur tumhari pretty woman ko ley kar aaongi here. Bas.

Zaya: No, thank you.

Ma: No thank you ka bacha, tum kaun si type ki ladki pasand karte ho? Bathao na. Bathao na beta!!!

Zaya: Okay! Okay okay.

Beat.

I like naughty girls, I guess.

Ma: Teekh hai. I find naughty girl for you. Mallika Sherawat jaisi.

Zaya: Great. I like Mallika.

Ma: Yeh joke nahi hai.

Zaya: I’m not joking either.

Beat.

And when are you gonna get married?

Ma: Zaya.

Zaya: What?

Ma: Aise mat joke karna mere saath.

Zaya: No, I’m actually serious, Ma. I think you’re strong, and beautiful, and smart, and funny. And young.

Ma: Haan haan, meh yeh sab kuch hoon, aur bahot busy too.

Zaya: I can make your profile on shaadi.com.

Ma: Arey chup!

Zaya: Laila can take your photo when you get home.

Ma: Yeh nahi ho sakta hai. Meh busy hoon.

Zaya: Oh yeah? Doing what?

Ma: Meri pehli appointment afternoo—

Ma stops herself.

Zaya: Appointment? For what? Wait. For like cutting hair? Ma, we’ve talked about this. Laila and I can pay for stuff. You don’t have to be working.

Ma: Oh haan haan, bilkul bilkul. Eid two days mein hai, busy busy time of year for me, aur I don’t work? / Good idea, beta!

Zaya: Oh my god, just retire already!!

Ma: Mera kam important hai. All my client depend me. Meh koi retail shetail mein kam nahi karti hoon.

Zaya: Okay, just so we’re clear, I’m a store manager.

Ma: You fold clothes.

Zaya: Ma!

Ma: Ma, Ma, ka bacha, such nahi hai?

Zaya: We’re not talking about me. This is about you and it’s serious and I just don’t think you understand—