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The absurdity begins even before Dreams of Ithaca officially starts. In a hall at the Arts Council of Pakistan in Karachi with an audience packed shoulder-to-shoulder, before the lights dim, a warning is delivered by writer Fawad Khan with dry humour: “Intense violence will be shown [in the play]. If anyone has an issue with this, please get up and leave right now. The door is open.”

He then asks the audience to put their phones on silent, including alarms, and refrain from recording. The play runs for less than an hour, he adds. “Pachpan minute mein yeh azaab tal jayega [in 55 minutes, this torment will be over].”

What follows is a disorienting journey anchored primarily in conversations between two unnamed characters, whose dialogue explores the intricacies and contradictions of human nature and the fragile, shifting idea of ‘home’.

I went into the play not quite knowing what to expect (the description was as confusing as the production itself), but left wholly impressed, struck by how much depth and humour could emerge from such a deceptively simple setup. For someone who counts The Sunset Limited among their favourite movies, the play hit all the right notes; a reminder that the right words, delivered with precision, can resonate just as much as any visual spectacle.

Directed by Sonil Shanker, written by Khan, and translated into Urdu by Kulsoom Aftab, Dreams of Ithaca is described by its creators as an “absurdist odyssey through dreams, nightmares, and strange trams and signals”. The play premiered on Wednesday night at the World Culture Festival 2025, held at the Arts Council in Karachi.

The first scene opens with the two characters (the man, played by Shanker, and the woman, played by Aftab) bickering over nothing in particular. Shanker’s character pleads for her to listen, but she curtly tells him not to disturb her, insisting she’s “busy doing nothing”. Their trivial back-and-forth creates a push-and-pull rhythm that is both absurd and captivating.

Initially puzzled by the aimless argument, the audience is soon drawn in by sharp dialogue, sly humour, and the occasional profanity that makes every exchange unpredictable. Shanker’s character desperately tries to share his dreams and his sense of never feeling “at home”, while she brushes him off with vague deadlines she barely remembers, insisting that nobody feels at home anyway.

The next scene (referred to as the “signal scene” by Khan) shifts the atmosphere, reminding the audience why the creators issued a warning at the start.

Here, the two characters are strangers. Shanker’s character is trapped at a pedestrian signal, pacing anxiously as he runs late for his flight, only for the light to remain red. Each time he tries to cross the road, he’s blocked or hit by passing vehicles, leaving him baffled as he struggles to make sense of the absurdity around him.

Meanwhile, Aftab’s character remains mostly silent, smirking and offering the occasional word at long intervals, which only fuels Shanker’s growing frustration. As his anger mounts, Shanker’s character becomes violent, and what began as a mundane wait erupts into sudden, unsettling chaos. It is a darkly comic, absurdist moment that keeps the audience unsure whether to gasp, laugh at the profanity, or feel a creeping sense of unease.

By the end of the 55 minutes (which felt much longer, thanks to the play’s immersive experience), you’re left with more questions than answers. While not everything is resolved, one thing is certain — Dreams of Ithaca is not for the faint of heart.

Dubbing it as one of Khan’s most controversial plays, Aftab spoke to me about the compromises involved in performing such work; deciding when to tone down, when to tone up, and negotiating the many challenges that arise during the performance.

“People often laugh at scenes where women are attacked,” she said. “You must have noticed today as well. But this audience learned, by the time the play progressed, that they couldn’t just laugh at women’s victimisation.”

She described the performer’s experience as a constant tension: terrified before going on stage, thinking only about whether the audience would connect, or feel ashamed, uncomfortable, or responsible. “Usually, out of 500 people, maybe five really engage in that way,” she said.

Khan shared that the inspiration for Dreams of Ithaca came from his own experiences after moving to Ireland. He found himself constantly grappling with questions of home: what it means to belong, where home truly lies, and the sense of leaving or losing it.

“Overall, there’s a consistent running theme in the play of being home or leaving home or defining home,” he said. He added that gender is also a key theme, woven throughout the story and closely linked to the idea of home.

Khan has been working on the play for quite some time and described it as an ongoing project. Even the performance staged in Karachi was not based on the final script. Originally written in English for a Western audience, the play included references to Ithaca (the homeland of Odysseus from Homer’s Odyssey).

The Urdu translation was completed recently by Aftab, who also helped adapt parts of the script for a Pakistani setting. For instance, the signal scene, originally set in the West, was rewritten to take place at a local pedestrian signal, making the absurdist scenario more relatable to a local audience, Khan explained.

He also noted that the characters were deliberately left unnamed. Regarding audience reception, he said he intended the play to be absurdist, dark yet comic, and that, to some extent, this was achieved. “People were laughing, people were disgusted at some moments.”

Photos: Arts Council of Pakistan Karachi/Instagram