The tea house of babel.. one act absurdist play

 


The Tea House of Babel
A One-Act Absurdist Play
Setting: A small, dimly lit tea house in a bustling South Asian city. The walls are covered with peeling posters of political slogans, cricket stars, and a faded calendar from 1999. The ceiling fan turns lazily, not offering much relief. A group of strangers—each from a different walk of life—sit around a table, drinking tea and engaging in a conversation that seems logical at first but soon descends into absurdity.

Characters:

  1. Malik Sahib – A retired government officer, speaks in grand proclamations.
  2. Razia Bi – A widow, sells flowers outside the tea house.
  3. Aftab – A young university student, idealistic and full of slogans.
  4. Majeed – The tea house owner, passive and always wiping the counter.
  5. Dildar – A street poet, constantly rhyming nonsense.
  6. Inspector Bashir – A police officer who enters midway, adding chaos.

Act 1: The Illogical Conversation Begins

(The lights come up. The characters are seated, drinking tea. The sound of distant traffic fills the air. Malik Sahib clears his throat.)

Malik Sahib: The country is falling apart. But I have seen worse! In my day, we built bridges! We built roads!

Aftab: And yet, here we are, drinking tea on broken tables. What good were your bridges if they led nowhere?

Majeed: My tea leads somewhere. To the stomach. Twenty rupees, please.

Razia Bi: (Counting coins) It was fifteen rupees yesterday.

Majeed: The price of everything goes up. The sky is next. Soon, clouds will be taxed.

Dildar: (Sings) A nation built on chai and bread, dreams alive but mostly dead!

Malik Sahib: Poetry will not fix the country, young man. Structure, discipline—these are the things we need!

Aftab: And yet, we still don’t know where we are going!

Majeed: You are in my tea house. Twenty rupees.

Razia Bi: (Mutters) If I had twenty rupees, I wouldn’t be sitting here.

(A long silence. The sound of the ceiling fan hums.)

Act 2: The Arrival of Authority

(Inspector Bashir enters. Everyone stiffens.)

Inspector Bashir: Who here is responsible for the chaos outside?

Majeed: Outside? No, no. Chaos is inside.

Inspector Bashir: I mean the protests, the slogans, the youth shouting!

Aftab: I am youth! I am shouting! But my voice is swallowed before it reaches the sky.

Inspector Bashir: (Sits) Then shout softer.

Malik Sahib: (Proudly) I have seen many protests in my time. They achieve nothing.

Dildar: (Sings) A king, a soldier, a man with a gun, all drink tea when the fighting is done!

Inspector Bashir: This tea house is under surveillance now.

Majeed: (Nods) Twenty rupees.

Inspector Bashir: What?

Majeed: Everyone drinks tea. Even surveillance.

Inspector Bashir: (Pauses) That… is true. (Sips tea)

Act 3: The Realization

(The conversation continues in circles. The lights flicker. The characters begin to repeat each other’s sentences in confusion. Their words lose meaning. Time stretches. Tea cups are refilled. The dialogue speeds up until everyone is speaking at once.)

Malik Sahib: We need discipline!

Aftab: We need slogans!

Majeed: We need twenty rupees!

Dildar: A country of echoes, a nation of sighs…

Inspector Bashir: The protest must stop!

Razia Bi: If I had twenty rupees—

(A loud crash outside. The lights go out. In darkness, we hear the sound of chairs scraping, footsteps running. Silence. Then, a single candle is lit. It flickers. Only Majeed remains. He looks around at the empty chairs, sighs, and wipes the counter.)

Majeed: (Softly) The tea is still hot.

(Blackout.)



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