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PROJECTS
KADAMBARI: Tracing the voice of a Shattered Muse
Written and Directed by: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Produced by: Paradigm Shift Arts
Duration: 90 minutes
Language: Hindi and Bangla
Kadambari is a lyrical theatrical journey into the silenced life of Kadambari Devi, Rabindranath Tagore’s critic, muse, companion, and sister-in-law, who was married into the family at the age of nine and took her own life at twenty-five, while the poet was twenty-three. Rather than treating her only as a footnote in the poet’s biography, the play seeks to restore her voice, weaving together memory, fiction, and imagination. It traces the fragments of her existence beyond the whispers of scandal and tragedy, asking how history chooses to remember, or erase, the women who stand behind celebrated men.
Set against the backdrop of her final hours, the play imagines a meeting where Death comes to claim her. In this liminal space, Kadambari confronts Rabi with unresolved questions of love, freedom, and erasure. Their dialogue moves fluidly between the personal and the poetic, intertwining childhood memories, moments of intimacy, and echoes of Tagore’s fictional heroines who carry her shadow.
Through these encounters, Kadambari becomes not only a story of loss but also of resistance, an attempt to reclaim her agency and dignity from the margins of history. It is at once intimate and political, offering audiences a meditation on remembrance, desire, and the unseen cost of genius, where the muse insists on being more than inspiration: she demands to be remembered as herself, heard as herself.
Director’s Note
Kadambari Devi (1859–1884), born Matangini, was married at the age of nine to Jyotirindranath Tagore, Rabindranath’s elder brother, and grew up in the culturally vibrant Jorasanko household. She, in the pages of history, has been silenced and cornered. A woman of wit, depth, and immense importance in the life of one of the greatest poets of our country, she remains lost in the archives. Her traces exist only in fragments, hidden between the lines of Rabindranath Tagore’s writings.
When I visited Jorasanko Thakurbari, I found every room carefully labelled and remembered, except hers. The Andarmahal, the women’s quarters, stood silent when her name was called. That silence stayed with me.
Her story could not remain a fictional suicide note written by men, a tragic muse, or a homewrecker in Charulata. She had to be more. This play became my conversation with Rabindranath Tagore, one of my most beloved writers, who created complex women with extraordinary sensitivity. I found myself asking him: did he ever know the cost of immortalising his bouthan in a certain way? How could a writer so attuned to women’s emotions fail to reflect the one closest to him, allowing her to fade into scandal and shadow?
Kadambari began as an unease after I read a fictional suicide note attributed to her, where she was reduced to a lovelorn woman mourning her unrequited affection for the great poet, her brother-in-law. Those imagined words unsettled me. Was it right for anyone to script her final thoughts when she was never allowed a voice of her own?
As a Probashi Bangali, raised outside Bengal, my relationship with my language and culture has always been tangled. I was often told I was not Bengali enough. I taught myself to read Bangla from Anandabazar Patrika, letter by letter. So when the urge to write this play came, I was terrified. Who was I to tell her story? But that fear was soon overtaken by a deeper question: how is Kadambari remembered, and who decides that memory?
With my dramaturg Abhishek Majumdar, I could shape my politics for the play and began to see that it was not only Tagore who shaped her legacy, but generations of readers who continued to define her. Was I questioning the writer for creating her memory, or all of us for preserving it a certain way? That dilemma became the heart of the play.
This is an attempt to step inside her world through thorough research.
At the heart of the play stands a single object: the poster bed. It is where she took her last breath, yet also where she dreams beyond the confines of the Tagore Andarmahal, writes, and seizes fleeting moments of freedom. The backdrop of dry layered trees reflects her inner world, both her entrapment and her sanctuary, a grove of ideas she carried but never fully explored. Though educated in the name of the Women’s Liberation Movement, her learning remained confined within the walls of the Andarmahal.
This play is not a biography or a correction. It is a conversation - with her memory, with history, and with myself. It is not about giving her a voice, but about searching for it.
The ensemble, from different parts of the country and with diverse theatre backgrounds, has been an integral part of shaping this journey.
Cast
- Ipshita Chakraborty Singh as Kadambari
- Priyanka Choudhary as Charulata
- Aditi Arora as Mrityu / Manda / Urmi
- Hrishabh Kanti as Rabi / Tagore
- Aayush Thakur as Amal / Young Rabi
- Abhijeet Vikram Singh as Mrityu / Bhupati / Jyoti
Creative and Production Team
- Writer & Director: Meghna Roy Choudhury
- Producer: Aditya Santosh
- Dramaturg: Abhishek Majumdar
- Creative Producer: Siddhesh Purkar
- Production Manager: Om Jagtap
- Set Design: Ravi Choudhary
- Light Design: Rahul Joglekar
- Music: Aabha Soumitra
- Costume Design & Makeup: Ashish Hemant Deshpande
- Music Operation: Sagar Dahale
- Light Operation: Abhipray Kamthe
- Stage Management: Harsh Bhosale, Mangesh Jahirao and Vishal Wangekar
- Visual Design: Aakriti Chandervanshi
Produced by: Paradigm Shift Arts
Duration: 90 minutes
Language: Hindi and Bangla
Kadambari is a lyrical theatrical journey into the silenced life of Kadambari Devi, Rabindranath Tagore’s critic, muse, companion, and sister-in-law, who was married into the family at the age of nine and took her own life at twenty-five, while the poet was twenty-three. Rather than treating her only as a footnote in the poet’s biography, the play seeks to restore her voice, weaving together memory, fiction, and imagination. It traces the fragments of her existence beyond the whispers of scandal and tragedy, asking how history chooses to remember, or erase, the women who stand behind celebrated men.
Set against the backdrop of her final hours, the play imagines a meeting where Death comes to claim her. In this liminal space, Kadambari confronts Rabi with unresolved questions of love, freedom, and erasure. Their dialogue moves fluidly between the personal and the poetic, intertwining childhood memories, moments of intimacy, and echoes of Tagore’s fictional heroines who carry her shadow.
Through these encounters, Kadambari becomes not only a story of loss but also of resistance, an attempt to reclaim her agency and dignity from the margins of history. It is at once intimate and political, offering audiences a meditation on remembrance, desire, and the unseen cost of genius, where the muse insists on being more than inspiration: she demands to be remembered as herself, heard as herself.
Director’s Note
Kadambari Devi (1859–1884), born Matangini, was married at the age of nine to Jyotirindranath Tagore, Rabindranath’s elder brother, and grew up in the culturally vibrant Jorasanko household. She, in the pages of history, has been silenced and cornered. A woman of wit, depth, and immense importance in the life of one of the greatest poets of our country, she remains lost in the archives. Her traces exist only in fragments, hidden between the lines of Rabindranath Tagore’s writings.
When I visited Jorasanko Thakurbari, I found every room carefully labelled and remembered, except hers. The Andarmahal, the women’s quarters, stood silent when her name was called. That silence stayed with me.
Her story could not remain a fictional suicide note written by men, a tragic muse, or a homewrecker in Charulata. She had to be more. This play became my conversation with Rabindranath Tagore, one of my most beloved writers, who created complex women with extraordinary sensitivity. I found myself asking him: did he ever know the cost of immortalising his bouthan in a certain way? How could a writer so attuned to women’s emotions fail to reflect the one closest to him, allowing her to fade into scandal and shadow?
Kadambari began as an unease after I read a fictional suicide note attributed to her, where she was reduced to a lovelorn woman mourning her unrequited affection for the great poet, her brother-in-law. Those imagined words unsettled me. Was it right for anyone to script her final thoughts when she was never allowed a voice of her own?
As a Probashi Bangali, raised outside Bengal, my relationship with my language and culture has always been tangled. I was often told I was not Bengali enough. I taught myself to read Bangla from Anandabazar Patrika, letter by letter. So when the urge to write this play came, I was terrified. Who was I to tell her story? But that fear was soon overtaken by a deeper question: how is Kadambari remembered, and who decides that memory?
With my dramaturg Abhishek Majumdar, I could shape my politics for the play and began to see that it was not only Tagore who shaped her legacy, but generations of readers who continued to define her. Was I questioning the writer for creating her memory, or all of us for preserving it a certain way? That dilemma became the heart of the play.
This is an attempt to step inside her world through thorough research.
At the heart of the play stands a single object: the poster bed. It is where she took her last breath, yet also where she dreams beyond the confines of the Tagore Andarmahal, writes, and seizes fleeting moments of freedom. The backdrop of dry layered trees reflects her inner world, both her entrapment and her sanctuary, a grove of ideas she carried but never fully explored. Though educated in the name of the Women’s Liberation Movement, her learning remained confined within the walls of the Andarmahal.
This play is not a biography or a correction. It is a conversation - with her memory, with history, and with myself. It is not about giving her a voice, but about searching for it.
The ensemble, from different parts of the country and with diverse theatre backgrounds, has been an integral part of shaping this journey.
Cast
- Ipshita Chakraborty Singh as Kadambari
- Priyanka Choudhary as Charulata
- Aditi Arora as Mrityu / Manda / Urmi
- Hrishabh Kanti as Rabi / Tagore
- Aayush Thakur as Amal / Young Rabi
- Abhijeet Vikram Singh as Mrityu / Bhupati / Jyoti
Creative and Production Team
- Writer & Director: Meghna Roy Choudhury
- Producer: Aditya Santosh
- Dramaturg: Abhishek Majumdar
- Creative Producer: Siddhesh Purkar
- Production Manager: Om Jagtap
- Set Design: Ravi Choudhary
- Light Design: Rahul Joglekar
- Music: Aabha Soumitra
- Costume Design & Makeup: Ashish Hemant Deshpande
- Music Operation: Sagar Dahale
- Light Operation: Abhipray Kamthe
- Stage Management: Harsh Bhosale, Mangesh Jahirao and Vishal Wangekar
- Visual Design: Aakriti Chandervanshi
KHEYECHISH?
Written and Directed by Meghna Roy Choudhury
Format: Theatre and Live Cooking
Duration: 80 minutes
Language: Hindi, English and a tasteful dash of Bangla
About the Play
Kheyechish? ("Ate?") is her mother's daily question, usually met with a groan. But today, the truth spills out: "I haven't eaten all day… or days." With a monthly income of ₹18,000, ₹11,500 goes towards rent, and the remaining amount is stretched thin across groceries, commute and unpaid rehearsals, where dinner is often the only guaranteed meal. But tonight, there is no rehearsal. No dinner. Just another evening in a city that demands everything and gives very little in return.
It's been a year since she last ate Alu Posto and Phena Bhaat, famine-born dishes that carry the memory of hunger through generations. She goes to the store, carefully selecting only what is necessary. But when the bill is tallied, she sighs, shakes her head and quietly walks away, empty-handed.
Later, as she cooks, this time in front of an audience, she tells the story: "If I stop showing up where food is laid out, they may think I don't need anything. But if I turn up every day and show them that I can't buy, maybe they'll know how it is."
As she stirs the food, she wonders: Can the hunger born out of her chosen migration be compared to her grandmother's hunger born of Partition and the Bengal Famine? Of course not. But then, is her hunger even valid?
This piece sits at the intersection of theatre, storytelling, oral history and shared ritual. Garbed as a tragic comedy, it is a deeply political work that explores not only hunger for food, but also the hunger for dignity, recognition, belonging and community. Through live cooking and the sharing of a meal, the performance invites audiences to gather, reflect and continue the conversation long after the play has ended.
Kheyechish? is inspired by Bertolt Brecht's poem The Shopper and was developed with the support of the Niloufer Sagar Drama School Mumbai Alumni Production Grant (2024).
Director's Note
When I began working on Kheyechish?, I was simply hungry.
Not just for food, but for connection, clarity and catharsis. The title, Kheyechish? ("Have you eaten?"), is a question my mother still asks me three times a day. A question I often brushed aside. Until one day, I broke down and admitted that I had not eaten. That moment became the seed for this play.
What followed was a deeply personal process that merged humour, hunger, heartbreak and a kitchen. At first, we were hesitant about cooking live on stage. It seemed impractical. Rehearsal venues had restrictions, and the cost of ingredients, especially posto, was daunting. My dramaturg also cautioned that cooking might overwhelm the performance. But something in me insisted. So I cooked. And it worked.
The play is rooted in the mundane. A missed rehearsal, an empty purse, a cancelled class, a crow on a window sill. But it is within these moments that truth lives. Kheyechish? is built around that moment of standing at a grocery store checkout with trembling fingers and a cart full of comfort you cannot afford. It is in this moment that the performer decides to cook her favourite dish, Alu Posto with Phena Bhaat, ironically dishes born from the Bengal Famine, for the audience, live. It becomes protest, ritual, memory and theatre, all stirred into one.
Cooking live did not just become feasible. It became the heart of the play. The sounds, smells and textures of the kitchen brought an intimacy I had never anticipated. More importantly, it gave the audience a reason to stay back. They do not just watch. They linger. They eat with me. And they talk. That exchange after the performance, over a spoon of Alu Posto and Phena Bhaat, has become the soul of this piece.
The character speaks with Shashikant, a crow she has named after her late father, part companion and part conscience. A voiceover of Bharatamuni shadows the play like a judge from another world. These unlikely observers mirror the audience as they watch her navigate the absurdity of survival in a big city with one hundred rupees a day, unpaid rehearsals and evaporating hope.
Theatre is often accused of being insular. But the most beautiful thing about Kheyechish? is that people who are usually far from theatre, engineers, neighbours, friends of friends, somehow find their way into the room. They come. They relate. They stay.
Blending the rhythms of stand-up with storytelling, realism with satire, and cooking with confession, this play is my letter to everyone who has ever been tired, broke, replaced, hopeful or simply hungry. It is for those who have lied to their mothers about what they have eaten, and those who have survived on dreams and vada pavs.
This play was made through trust. Trust in mentors, in collaborators, and finally, in instinct. I hope it feeds you the way it has nourished me.
Cast and Crew
Writer and Director: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Performers: Dhanesh Gopalakrishnan and Meghna Roy Choudhury
Mentor: Akhshay Gandhi
Dramaturg: Siddhesh Purkar
Set Designer: Ravi Choudhary
Light Designers: Rahul Rai and Utkarshh Babbar
Light Operator: Utkarshh Babbar
Sound Designer and Operator: Sagar Dahale and Yashit
Poster Designer: Aakriti Chandervanshi
An essay by Meghna Roy Choudhury, published in On Eating, tracing the personal experiences, economic realities and inherited histories of hunger that led to the making of Kheyechish?
Read the essay:
https://www.oneating.in/kheyechish-story-of-a-play-born-from-hunger/
Format: Theatre and Live Cooking
Duration: 80 minutes
Language: Hindi, English and a tasteful dash of Bangla
About the Play
Kheyechish? ("Ate?") is her mother's daily question, usually met with a groan. But today, the truth spills out: "I haven't eaten all day… or days." With a monthly income of ₹18,000, ₹11,500 goes towards rent, and the remaining amount is stretched thin across groceries, commute and unpaid rehearsals, where dinner is often the only guaranteed meal. But tonight, there is no rehearsal. No dinner. Just another evening in a city that demands everything and gives very little in return.
It's been a year since she last ate Alu Posto and Phena Bhaat, famine-born dishes that carry the memory of hunger through generations. She goes to the store, carefully selecting only what is necessary. But when the bill is tallied, she sighs, shakes her head and quietly walks away, empty-handed.
Later, as she cooks, this time in front of an audience, she tells the story: "If I stop showing up where food is laid out, they may think I don't need anything. But if I turn up every day and show them that I can't buy, maybe they'll know how it is."
As she stirs the food, she wonders: Can the hunger born out of her chosen migration be compared to her grandmother's hunger born of Partition and the Bengal Famine? Of course not. But then, is her hunger even valid?
This piece sits at the intersection of theatre, storytelling, oral history and shared ritual. Garbed as a tragic comedy, it is a deeply political work that explores not only hunger for food, but also the hunger for dignity, recognition, belonging and community. Through live cooking and the sharing of a meal, the performance invites audiences to gather, reflect and continue the conversation long after the play has ended.
Kheyechish? is inspired by Bertolt Brecht's poem The Shopper and was developed with the support of the Niloufer Sagar Drama School Mumbai Alumni Production Grant (2024).
Director's Note
When I began working on Kheyechish?, I was simply hungry.
Not just for food, but for connection, clarity and catharsis. The title, Kheyechish? ("Have you eaten?"), is a question my mother still asks me three times a day. A question I often brushed aside. Until one day, I broke down and admitted that I had not eaten. That moment became the seed for this play.
What followed was a deeply personal process that merged humour, hunger, heartbreak and a kitchen. At first, we were hesitant about cooking live on stage. It seemed impractical. Rehearsal venues had restrictions, and the cost of ingredients, especially posto, was daunting. My dramaturg also cautioned that cooking might overwhelm the performance. But something in me insisted. So I cooked. And it worked.
The play is rooted in the mundane. A missed rehearsal, an empty purse, a cancelled class, a crow on a window sill. But it is within these moments that truth lives. Kheyechish? is built around that moment of standing at a grocery store checkout with trembling fingers and a cart full of comfort you cannot afford. It is in this moment that the performer decides to cook her favourite dish, Alu Posto with Phena Bhaat, ironically dishes born from the Bengal Famine, for the audience, live. It becomes protest, ritual, memory and theatre, all stirred into one.
Cooking live did not just become feasible. It became the heart of the play. The sounds, smells and textures of the kitchen brought an intimacy I had never anticipated. More importantly, it gave the audience a reason to stay back. They do not just watch. They linger. They eat with me. And they talk. That exchange after the performance, over a spoon of Alu Posto and Phena Bhaat, has become the soul of this piece.
The character speaks with Shashikant, a crow she has named after her late father, part companion and part conscience. A voiceover of Bharatamuni shadows the play like a judge from another world. These unlikely observers mirror the audience as they watch her navigate the absurdity of survival in a big city with one hundred rupees a day, unpaid rehearsals and evaporating hope.
Theatre is often accused of being insular. But the most beautiful thing about Kheyechish? is that people who are usually far from theatre, engineers, neighbours, friends of friends, somehow find their way into the room. They come. They relate. They stay.
Blending the rhythms of stand-up with storytelling, realism with satire, and cooking with confession, this play is my letter to everyone who has ever been tired, broke, replaced, hopeful or simply hungry. It is for those who have lied to their mothers about what they have eaten, and those who have survived on dreams and vada pavs.
This play was made through trust. Trust in mentors, in collaborators, and finally, in instinct. I hope it feeds you the way it has nourished me.
Cast and Crew
Writer and Director: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Performers: Dhanesh Gopalakrishnan and Meghna Roy Choudhury
Mentor: Akhshay Gandhi
Dramaturg: Siddhesh Purkar
Set Designer: Ravi Choudhary
Light Designers: Rahul Rai and Utkarshh Babbar
Light Operator: Utkarshh Babbar
Sound Designer and Operator: Sagar Dahale and Yashit
Poster Designer: Aakriti Chandervanshi
An essay by Meghna Roy Choudhury, published in On Eating, tracing the personal experiences, economic realities and inherited histories of hunger that led to the making of Kheyechish?
Read the essay:
https://www.oneating.in/kheyechish-story-of-a-play-born-from-hunger/
THE APOLOGY
Written and Directed by Meghna Roy Choudhury
About the Play
“My Guru is long dead;
he will never say the words that I have longed to hear, hence it must be imagined.”
But what is a true apology? Are there steps to it? And is an apology enough?
Through her own inner sanctum, she crafts an apology imagined, tailored for her, by her, to her, channelling her revered Guru. Questioning the brutality of a teaching system that claims deep-rooted tradition but trembles for survival in the modern world, she awakens. Those who bore the torch shattered her, yet the classical dance form itself sets her free. Subverting its form, she rediscovers her body, reclaiming it after years of exile. Shedding the shackles, she exhales, "Old man, be gone!"
The Apology is a response to Eve Ensler's novella of the same name and was created with the support of the DSM Niloufer Sagar Alumni Production Grant.
Director’s Note
The Apology unfolds within the rich tradition of the guru-shishya parampara. The language and structure of the play may seem distant from our everyday lives, yet they resonate deeply with the political and social consciousness of our reality.
What is a true apology? Are there steps to it? If a true apology is offered, how does one accept it? Is it necessary to forgive the person or the part of you that held yourself accountable for their actions? These questions became the seeds of this play for me during its creation.
Subverting mudras and shlokas from the Natyashastra came with both hesitation and excitement. My classical training, which grounds me, also liberated me to navigate and reinvent these traditional elements. On the rehearsal floor, we focused on developing a vocabulary that suited the world of the play while honouring age-old traditions.
Working with actors unfamiliar with classical art forms, training them in Bharatanatyam, introducing them to its rigorous discipline, and guiding them towards developing Angika, Vachika, Aharya and Sattvika Abhinaya has been a transformative experience for all of us. Witnessing them gain confidence, make the form their own, and approach the story with passion, respect and sincerity has touched my heart every single day of this journey. Their dedication and earnestness have been a source of inspiration, and I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to create this work together.
Cast and Crew
Writer, Director and Design: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Producer: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Performers: Priyanshu Gupta / Hrishabh Kanti, Princy Sudhakaran / Meghna Roy Choudhury
Vocals: Snigdha Pious
Percussion and Music Design: Ruturaj Bhosle
Percussion: Pranav Dandekar / Animesh Patthey
Light Design and Operation: Payal Kalra
Stage Manager: Ekansh Upadhyay
Dramaturg: Meghana A. T.
Mentor: Padma Damodaran
About the Play
“My Guru is long dead;
he will never say the words that I have longed to hear, hence it must be imagined.”
But what is a true apology? Are there steps to it? And is an apology enough?
Through her own inner sanctum, she crafts an apology imagined, tailored for her, by her, to her, channelling her revered Guru. Questioning the brutality of a teaching system that claims deep-rooted tradition but trembles for survival in the modern world, she awakens. Those who bore the torch shattered her, yet the classical dance form itself sets her free. Subverting its form, she rediscovers her body, reclaiming it after years of exile. Shedding the shackles, she exhales, "Old man, be gone!"
The Apology is a response to Eve Ensler's novella of the same name and was created with the support of the DSM Niloufer Sagar Alumni Production Grant.
Director’s Note
The Apology unfolds within the rich tradition of the guru-shishya parampara. The language and structure of the play may seem distant from our everyday lives, yet they resonate deeply with the political and social consciousness of our reality.
What is a true apology? Are there steps to it? If a true apology is offered, how does one accept it? Is it necessary to forgive the person or the part of you that held yourself accountable for their actions? These questions became the seeds of this play for me during its creation.
Subverting mudras and shlokas from the Natyashastra came with both hesitation and excitement. My classical training, which grounds me, also liberated me to navigate and reinvent these traditional elements. On the rehearsal floor, we focused on developing a vocabulary that suited the world of the play while honouring age-old traditions.
Working with actors unfamiliar with classical art forms, training them in Bharatanatyam, introducing them to its rigorous discipline, and guiding them towards developing Angika, Vachika, Aharya and Sattvika Abhinaya has been a transformative experience for all of us. Witnessing them gain confidence, make the form their own, and approach the story with passion, respect and sincerity has touched my heart every single day of this journey. Their dedication and earnestness have been a source of inspiration, and I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to create this work together.
Cast and Crew
Writer, Director and Design: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Producer: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Performers: Priyanshu Gupta / Hrishabh Kanti, Princy Sudhakaran / Meghna Roy Choudhury
Vocals: Snigdha Pious
Percussion and Music Design: Ruturaj Bhosle
Percussion: Pranav Dandekar / Animesh Patthey
Light Design and Operation: Payal Kalra
Stage Manager: Ekansh Upadhyay
Dramaturg: Meghana A. T.
Mentor: Padma Damodaran
PYAAR, S*X AUR CHUMBAN
Written by Chanakya Vyas
Produced by Naatak Express
Directed by Meghna Roy Choudhury
Duration: 15 minutes
About the Play
A comic, absurd take on the diminishing intimacy between couples. Two mosquitoes set out on a mission to bring a couple closer and get them to be intimate. In the course of their efforts, one mosquito dies while confessing its love to the other.
Naatak Express was a theatre initiative and fundraiser that brought together playwrights, directors and performers to create short plays through an intensive, time-bound process. Beyond the performances, the initiative aimed to build a network of artists, encourage new collaborations and raise funds for independent arts organisations. The proceeds from the event supported Changbhala Foundation, which uses theatre to work with women and children and engage with constitutional values.
Director’s Note
The challenge was to direct a 15 minute play in eight hours with four actors I was meeting for the first time. They came with very different levels of experience. One had formal acting training, another had performance experience without formal training, while the other two were completely new to acting.
The different levels of experience meant that we had to think quickly and find a common starting point. The idea was to go back to the basics of Indian theatre, drawing from a theatrical language that most of us have grown up witnessing at the local religious festivals and performances around the corners of our homes. It is a language that is familiar and immediate, but one that relies heavily on rhythm, physicality and, above all, the craft of timing.
We had to build the play together, from understanding the characters and their relationships to finding the physical language of the two worlds: the couple and the mosquitoes. Both needed distinct physical vocabularies while occupying the same theatrical space.
There was very little time to plan everything in advance. Most decisions emerged through trying things out with the actors, seeing what worked and adjusting along the way. It was chaotic, fast paced and a lot of fun. I particularly enjoyed the process of building a performance with people I had just met and discovering how much could take shape through a shared room, a common theatrical vocabulary and a limited amount of time.
Credits
Written by: Chanakya Vyas
Produced by: Naatak Express
Directed by: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Performed by: Sahil Ahuja, Pooja Khanolkar, Venkatesh Sumbe and Dalpat Mali
Lights: Nimish and Sia
Sound: Manas Joglekar
Produced by Naatak Express
Directed by Meghna Roy Choudhury
Duration: 15 minutes
About the Play
A comic, absurd take on the diminishing intimacy between couples. Two mosquitoes set out on a mission to bring a couple closer and get them to be intimate. In the course of their efforts, one mosquito dies while confessing its love to the other.
Naatak Express was a theatre initiative and fundraiser that brought together playwrights, directors and performers to create short plays through an intensive, time-bound process. Beyond the performances, the initiative aimed to build a network of artists, encourage new collaborations and raise funds for independent arts organisations. The proceeds from the event supported Changbhala Foundation, which uses theatre to work with women and children and engage with constitutional values.
Director’s Note
The challenge was to direct a 15 minute play in eight hours with four actors I was meeting for the first time. They came with very different levels of experience. One had formal acting training, another had performance experience without formal training, while the other two were completely new to acting.
The different levels of experience meant that we had to think quickly and find a common starting point. The idea was to go back to the basics of Indian theatre, drawing from a theatrical language that most of us have grown up witnessing at the local religious festivals and performances around the corners of our homes. It is a language that is familiar and immediate, but one that relies heavily on rhythm, physicality and, above all, the craft of timing.
We had to build the play together, from understanding the characters and their relationships to finding the physical language of the two worlds: the couple and the mosquitoes. Both needed distinct physical vocabularies while occupying the same theatrical space.
There was very little time to plan everything in advance. Most decisions emerged through trying things out with the actors, seeing what worked and adjusting along the way. It was chaotic, fast paced and a lot of fun. I particularly enjoyed the process of building a performance with people I had just met and discovering how much could take shape through a shared room, a common theatrical vocabulary and a limited amount of time.
Credits
Written by: Chanakya Vyas
Produced by: Naatak Express
Directed by: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Performed by: Sahil Ahuja, Pooja Khanolkar, Venkatesh Sumbe and Dalpat Mali
Lights: Nimish and Sia
Sound: Manas Joglekar
OTTAM: BORN TO RUN
Set Design | Tamaasha Theatre
Written and Directed by: Sapan Saran
Synopsis
Set in the world of athletics, Ottam: Born to Run traces the life of Akai Amaran, a Paraiyar girl from rural Tamil Nadu who battles caste and class barriers to become one of India's leading track and field athletes.
Her arduously created world collapses when she is asked to undertake a gender verification test. Akai's existence, further highlighted by her victories, challenges socially established norms and exposes the structures that determine who gets to compete, belong and be recognised.
In Akai's words: "In any race, what's of utmost importance is... to go on running! Ottam!"
Described by senior sports journalist Sharda Ugra as "the most original, truthful, creatively imagined depiction of Indian sport made for the stage", Ottam examines the intersections of caste, class, gender and sport through the story of a woman who refuses to stop running.
Set Design Note
The design began with two images: the Parai and an infinite running track. I was interested in creating a larger-than-life, almost infinite quality for both, bringing together the distinctive texture of the instrument and the seemingly endless geometry of an athletics track.
The Parai, a traditional Tamil percussion instrument deeply rooted in the cultural history of the Paraiyar community, became an important visual and conceptual reference. Traditionally made with a wooden frame, often fashioned from neem or jackfruit, and a playing surface of animal hide, sometimes specifically calf skin, the instrument carries a history that extends far beyond its sound. Historically associated with Dalit communities and caste-assigned labour, the Parai and its practitioners have faced generations of social stigma. Today, the instrument is also reclaimed as a powerful expression of cultural identity, dignity and resistance. Its materiality, texture and history informed the visual language of the set.
At the heart of the design was Akai's relationship with her father and the beat of his Parai. I imagined Akai as someone who could keep running for hours, endlessly, carried forward by the rhythm of her father's instrument. The running track became an extension of this rhythm: a continuous, infinite loop that held her memories, aspirations and determination. The beat of her father's Parai became the force that propelled her forward.
Equally important was the need to create a space that could accommodate the physical and choreographic demands of the production. With movement and choreography driving much of the play, I wanted to give the director an expansive stage and the freedom to compose movement across it. The spatial arrangement was designed to create different pockets across the stage, allowing multiple scenes, relationships and configurations to emerge. The set needed to remain adaptable, offering the performers and director the freedom to continually transform the space without being confined to a prescribed playing area.
The intention was to create a world that felt simultaneously expansive and flexible: a landscape where the materiality of the Parai, the rhythm of its beat and the movement of the performers could coexist. A space where Akai could keep running, beyond the boundaries of the stage, carried by a rhythm that connects her to her father and her history.
Production Credits
Writer and Director: Sapan Saran
Producer: Tamaasha Theatre
Set Design: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Set Execution: Vivek Jadhav
Assistant Director: Aaryan Tandon
Choreographer: Maithily Bhupatkar
Music Composers: Adalarasu, Satish Krishna
Vocals: Jahnvi Shrimankar, Parvati Ramachandran
Tamil Lyrics: Adalarasu, Raghuram Godavarthi
Additional Composition: Sukant Goel
Costume Design: Kalyani Gugle
Lighting Design: Hidayat Sami
Sound Design: Swar
Cast: Aayush Thakur, Chetna Dhyani, Deepali Badekar, Dipika Pandey, Janhvi, Prabhakar, Prabhakar Mathapati, Shashank Pallav, Shweta Mishra, Sushama Deshpande and Vijay David.
Theatre Curator, Serendipity Arts Festival: Mahesh Dattani.
Press and Publications
The Wire
How Can One Define What it Means to Be a Woman? The Making of Ottam
https://thewire.in/culture/how-can-one-define-what-it-means-to-be-a-woman-the-making-of-ottam
Mid-Day
Mumbai Theatre Spotlights Caste, Gender and Sport Through Ottam
https://www.mid-day.com/entertainment/theatre/article/mumbai-theatre-spotlights-caste-gender-and-sport-through-ottam-23610258
Mumbai Theatre Guide
Ottam: Born to Run
https://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/
Serendipity Arts Festival
2025 Festival Catalogue
https://serendipityarts.org/
Written and Directed by: Sapan Saran
Synopsis
Set in the world of athletics, Ottam: Born to Run traces the life of Akai Amaran, a Paraiyar girl from rural Tamil Nadu who battles caste and class barriers to become one of India's leading track and field athletes.
Her arduously created world collapses when she is asked to undertake a gender verification test. Akai's existence, further highlighted by her victories, challenges socially established norms and exposes the structures that determine who gets to compete, belong and be recognised.
In Akai's words: "In any race, what's of utmost importance is... to go on running! Ottam!"
Described by senior sports journalist Sharda Ugra as "the most original, truthful, creatively imagined depiction of Indian sport made for the stage", Ottam examines the intersections of caste, class, gender and sport through the story of a woman who refuses to stop running.
Set Design Note
The design began with two images: the Parai and an infinite running track. I was interested in creating a larger-than-life, almost infinite quality for both, bringing together the distinctive texture of the instrument and the seemingly endless geometry of an athletics track.
The Parai, a traditional Tamil percussion instrument deeply rooted in the cultural history of the Paraiyar community, became an important visual and conceptual reference. Traditionally made with a wooden frame, often fashioned from neem or jackfruit, and a playing surface of animal hide, sometimes specifically calf skin, the instrument carries a history that extends far beyond its sound. Historically associated with Dalit communities and caste-assigned labour, the Parai and its practitioners have faced generations of social stigma. Today, the instrument is also reclaimed as a powerful expression of cultural identity, dignity and resistance. Its materiality, texture and history informed the visual language of the set.
At the heart of the design was Akai's relationship with her father and the beat of his Parai. I imagined Akai as someone who could keep running for hours, endlessly, carried forward by the rhythm of her father's instrument. The running track became an extension of this rhythm: a continuous, infinite loop that held her memories, aspirations and determination. The beat of her father's Parai became the force that propelled her forward.
Equally important was the need to create a space that could accommodate the physical and choreographic demands of the production. With movement and choreography driving much of the play, I wanted to give the director an expansive stage and the freedom to compose movement across it. The spatial arrangement was designed to create different pockets across the stage, allowing multiple scenes, relationships and configurations to emerge. The set needed to remain adaptable, offering the performers and director the freedom to continually transform the space without being confined to a prescribed playing area.
The intention was to create a world that felt simultaneously expansive and flexible: a landscape where the materiality of the Parai, the rhythm of its beat and the movement of the performers could coexist. A space where Akai could keep running, beyond the boundaries of the stage, carried by a rhythm that connects her to her father and her history.
Production Credits
Writer and Director: Sapan Saran
Producer: Tamaasha Theatre
Set Design: Meghna Roy Choudhury
Set Execution: Vivek Jadhav
Assistant Director: Aaryan Tandon
Choreographer: Maithily Bhupatkar
Music Composers: Adalarasu, Satish Krishna
Vocals: Jahnvi Shrimankar, Parvati Ramachandran
Tamil Lyrics: Adalarasu, Raghuram Godavarthi
Additional Composition: Sukant Goel
Costume Design: Kalyani Gugle
Lighting Design: Hidayat Sami
Sound Design: Swar
Cast: Aayush Thakur, Chetna Dhyani, Deepali Badekar, Dipika Pandey, Janhvi, Prabhakar, Prabhakar Mathapati, Shashank Pallav, Shweta Mishra, Sushama Deshpande and Vijay David.
Theatre Curator, Serendipity Arts Festival: Mahesh Dattani.
Press and Publications
The Wire
How Can One Define What it Means to Be a Woman? The Making of Ottam
https://thewire.in/culture/how-can-one-define-what-it-means-to-be-a-woman-the-making-of-ottam
Mid-Day
Mumbai Theatre Spotlights Caste, Gender and Sport Through Ottam
https://www.mid-day.com/entertainment/theatre/article/mumbai-theatre-spotlights-caste-gender-and-sport-through-ottam-23610258
Mumbai Theatre Guide
Ottam: Born to Run
https://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/
Serendipity Arts Festival
2025 Festival Catalogue
https://serendipityarts.org/
THIRD BELL
Project Lead, Third Bell | Co-curator, Hear, Here Kolkata
Third Bell is an initiative by Bhasha Centre and The Drama Library.
Bhasha Centre, founded by theatre practitioner Vivek Madan, is an organisation dedicated to supporting theatre, literature and the performing arts through research, documentation, new writing and artistic exchange. Through its initiatives, it creates platforms for writers and theatre practitioners to develop work, share knowledge and engage with diverse theatrical practices.
My work with Bhasha Centre has allowed me to engage with theatre beyond the rehearsal room and the stage, particularly with the ecosystems that support playwriting, playwrights and new work.
Project Lead: Third Bell
Third Bell is dedicated to encouraging and supporting original Bangla playwriting. Conceived as a three-year programme running from 2025 to 2028, it aims to commission at least six new full-length Bangla plays while creating opportunities for emerging playwrights to develop their craft.
As Project Lead, I curate the commissioning and mentoring of original Bangla plays, an opportunity that remains relatively rare. I see playwriting as a way of documenting the times we live in, and value the process of working closely with writers as their ideas take shape. Beyond commissioning scripts, I hope to build a community of emerging Bangla playwrights and create a space where they can exchange ideas, discuss their writing practices, question their approaches and discover tools to develop their work. The intention is to build a sustained culture of engagement with playwriting through workshops, mentorship, readings, feedback and conversations.
The second season of Third Bell brought together seven shortlisted playwrights for an intensive three-day playwriting workshop facilitated by playwright and dramaturg Irawati Karnik. The process involved pitching, questioning, structural exploration and constructive feedback, allowing the playwrights to revisit and develop their ideas. Alongside the commissioned plays, an important outcome of this process has been the beginning of a community where playwrights can engage critically and generously with one another's work.
The initiative is also personal to me. As a probashi Bangali who grew up outside Bengal, my relationship with Bangla has been one of discovery. I never formally studied the language and taught myself to read and write by going through the Anandabazar Patrika, letter by letter. Being able to contribute to a space that encourages original writing in Bangla and supports playwrights in finding their voices has been especially meaningful.
Co-curator: Hear, Here Kolkata
Alongside Third Bell, I co-curated Hear, Here Kolkata with Ninad Samaddar. An initiative of Bhasha Centre, Hear, Here creates spaces for people to come together and experience plays through public readings followed by conversations.
The idea was to bring this format to Kolkata and create opportunities for playwrights, theatre practitioners, scholars and audiences to gather around a script. The opening edition brought together works from different periods of Indian theatre: Mahasweta Devi's Draupadi, Utpal Dutt's Barricade, Usha Ganguly's Rudali and Rabindranath Tagore's Muktadhara. Alongside these, we presented the three new Third Bell commissions by Gaurav Das, Rituparna Biswas and Somudranil Sarkar.
For me, the exercise was as much about revisiting existing texts as it was about creating new conversations around them. What happens when a play is heard rather than read silently? What new meanings emerge when people from different backgrounds encounter the same text in a shared space? How can readings become more than a preliminary step towards production, becoming an experience in themselves?
Explore the Work
Third Bell
An initiative supporting the commissioning and development of original Bangla plays.
https://www.bhashacentre.com/third-bell
The Drama Library
A digital library of unpublished plays, bringing together scripts across languages and making them accessible to readers and theatre practitioners.
https://www.bhashacentre.com/drama-library
Hear, Here Kolkata
Public readings and conversations bringing together playwrights, theatre practitioners, scholars and audiences around shared texts.
https://www.bhashacentre.com/hear-here
Back to the Page
A reflection by Meghna Roy Choudhury on her experience leading the Third Bell weekend in Kolkata, working with seven shortlisted playwrights and creating a space for exchange, feedback and conversations around new writing.
Read the essay: https://www.bhashacentre.com/post/back-to-the-page
Third Bell is an initiative by Bhasha Centre and The Drama Library.
Bhasha Centre, founded by theatre practitioner Vivek Madan, is an organisation dedicated to supporting theatre, literature and the performing arts through research, documentation, new writing and artistic exchange. Through its initiatives, it creates platforms for writers and theatre practitioners to develop work, share knowledge and engage with diverse theatrical practices.
My work with Bhasha Centre has allowed me to engage with theatre beyond the rehearsal room and the stage, particularly with the ecosystems that support playwriting, playwrights and new work.
Project Lead: Third Bell
Third Bell is dedicated to encouraging and supporting original Bangla playwriting. Conceived as a three-year programme running from 2025 to 2028, it aims to commission at least six new full-length Bangla plays while creating opportunities for emerging playwrights to develop their craft.
As Project Lead, I curate the commissioning and mentoring of original Bangla plays, an opportunity that remains relatively rare. I see playwriting as a way of documenting the times we live in, and value the process of working closely with writers as their ideas take shape. Beyond commissioning scripts, I hope to build a community of emerging Bangla playwrights and create a space where they can exchange ideas, discuss their writing practices, question their approaches and discover tools to develop their work. The intention is to build a sustained culture of engagement with playwriting through workshops, mentorship, readings, feedback and conversations.
The second season of Third Bell brought together seven shortlisted playwrights for an intensive three-day playwriting workshop facilitated by playwright and dramaturg Irawati Karnik. The process involved pitching, questioning, structural exploration and constructive feedback, allowing the playwrights to revisit and develop their ideas. Alongside the commissioned plays, an important outcome of this process has been the beginning of a community where playwrights can engage critically and generously with one another's work.
The initiative is also personal to me. As a probashi Bangali who grew up outside Bengal, my relationship with Bangla has been one of discovery. I never formally studied the language and taught myself to read and write by going through the Anandabazar Patrika, letter by letter. Being able to contribute to a space that encourages original writing in Bangla and supports playwrights in finding their voices has been especially meaningful.
Co-curator: Hear, Here Kolkata
Alongside Third Bell, I co-curated Hear, Here Kolkata with Ninad Samaddar. An initiative of Bhasha Centre, Hear, Here creates spaces for people to come together and experience plays through public readings followed by conversations.
The idea was to bring this format to Kolkata and create opportunities for playwrights, theatre practitioners, scholars and audiences to gather around a script. The opening edition brought together works from different periods of Indian theatre: Mahasweta Devi's Draupadi, Utpal Dutt's Barricade, Usha Ganguly's Rudali and Rabindranath Tagore's Muktadhara. Alongside these, we presented the three new Third Bell commissions by Gaurav Das, Rituparna Biswas and Somudranil Sarkar.
For me, the exercise was as much about revisiting existing texts as it was about creating new conversations around them. What happens when a play is heard rather than read silently? What new meanings emerge when people from different backgrounds encounter the same text in a shared space? How can readings become more than a preliminary step towards production, becoming an experience in themselves?
Explore the Work
Third Bell
An initiative supporting the commissioning and development of original Bangla plays.
https://www.bhashacentre.com/third-bell
The Drama Library
A digital library of unpublished plays, bringing together scripts across languages and making them accessible to readers and theatre practitioners.
https://www.bhashacentre.com/drama-library
Hear, Here Kolkata
Public readings and conversations bringing together playwrights, theatre practitioners, scholars and audiences around shared texts.
https://www.bhashacentre.com/hear-here
Back to the Page
A reflection by Meghna Roy Choudhury on her experience leading the Third Bell weekend in Kolkata, working with seven shortlisted playwrights and creating a space for exchange, feedback and conversations around new writing.
Read the essay: https://www.bhashacentre.com/post/back-to-the-page
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