Backseat Spotlight

When the lights are on stage, but you feel seen in the dark

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There’s a certain kind of silence that settles in a theatre when someone on stage says something real. Not profound. Not poetic. Just real. It’s a line you didn’t expect to hear and all of a sudden you feel like you’re hearing about your own life. Suddenly, you’re not just watching a play. You’re sitting with an old memory.

Abhineet had this very feeling while watching Mahanagar ke Jugnu, a play written and directed by Amitosh Nagpal. It’s a story about aspiring actors trying to make it in Mumbai city– about actors’ struggle, their plans, dreams and the feeling of swinging like a pendulum between ambition and pure survival. 

“Yes, definitely,” Abhineet Choudhary said. “That feels like... that’s my story.”

It wasn’t just the plot or theme that struck him. “The music and the lyrics were very meaningful and touched my heart. The songs will remind you of the pain, but inspire you to always look forward at the same time. The fresh compositions on the ukulele… I watched it a long time ago and it still stays in my mind”. 

One line, in particular, stuck with him for days. “They came to be actors, but forgot. Became something else.” He lingered on it. Not just as a theatre-lover but as someone living that very truth. “If you look at it as a writer, it feels more like it's your own story; it feels like the story belongs to you. The play explored challenges, competition and rejection while also being laced with humor”. 

Relatability in theatre doesn’t always arrive in big emotional reveals. Often, it is quiet. It comes through small, specific moments – a rhythm, a sentence, the way someone walks off stage and doesn’t look back. It can’t be forced. And it almost never comes when a play tries too hard to be “relatable.”

At the Windermere festival in February, during a show of Manav Kauls Trasadi there was a moment where the character says he would often smell his mother’s dupatta as it made him feel like she was right there with him. 

That moment resonated deeply with Abhishek Rajoriya, who was sitting in the audience. “That one moment I was like, yeah, I have done that since childhood too,” Abhishek said. “It made me think of my mother, that nostalgic smell, the motherly smell of her dupatta– it brought all of it back. While watching the play I noticed a lot of things that made me go "Arey yar yeh toh main bhi karta hoon” ”. 

It wasn’t a play about him. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Something in it touched him. It pulled him back—to his own life, to his own mother. It became personal.

From an audience’s perspective, connection rarely comes from the larger themes or broader statements. It comes from the detailing. Something specific enough to feel ‘lived in’. That almost tangible feeling of nostalgia. An ache for something experienced previously . When a character says something a little too familiar, you stop being an observer. You become part of the scene. 

For both Abhineet and Abhishek, watching the play wasn’t a passive act. They didn’t just consume the story—they engaged with it, felt it, and carried it into their own memories and emotions. They were people who found parts of themselves reflected back to them. These plays weren’t aiming to be mirrors. But somehow, they ended up being just that.

Relatability, especially in theatre, often works like that. It doesn’t need a spotlight. It doesn’t need to say, this is about you. But when it gets close, when it captures something specific and true, it finds the people it’s meant for.

“I thought I was just watching a play,” Abhishek said. “Turns out I was remembering something.”

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Ojaswi has been on stage for 15 years of her life. She has worked across various theatre groups and institutions. She is an actor, a singer and also works as a speech and drama teacher.