Same Same But Different

Songs, stories, and the surprising spaces they share. Anushka Ghose reviews Same Same But Different.

Review: Same Same But Different Produced by: Tamaasha Theatre Directed by: Sapan Saran Venue: Prithvi Theatre Date: 17 July 2025

There are some songs that just refuse to belong to anyone. You could be in a sweaty wedding baraat, a half-empty Mumbai local, or a dive bar karaoke night, the opening beats of The Ketchup Song drop, and suddenly everyone is flailing their arms in the same ridiculous choreography (Or at least they're thinking about it). That’s the thing about music, it has the ability to bulldoze through a whole lot of differences, and for three and a half minutes, strangers are in perfect sync. Same, Same, But Different by Tamaasha Theatre feels like an evening built on that sentiment. At its heart, the play is about finding common ground, and perhaps over and above, about coexisting. We are introduced to two very different stories: Jahnvi Shrimankar, trained in the structured rigour of the Hindustani tradition, and Kailash Waghmare, whose voice was shaped by the fields of Jalna and by his mother. Over the course of the evening, we follow them from their first encounters with music, through the influences and circumstances that shaped them, to the artists they’ve become today.

We’re privy to Jahnvi’s coming-of-age through song, how, as a child, her teacher playfully censors lyrics, swapping out words like “bed” or “kaleja” for tamer substitutes, until one day, deciding she is finally old enough to fall in love, the teacher lets her in on the real versions. We also witness Kailash’s first tryst with a daffli, the sniggers it elicits from his peers, their quick association of the instrument with his caste, and his subsequent swearing off it. We watch them sing their way into college and sing their way out of a traffic ticket. Anecdotes spill into songs, songs carry us back to anecdotes, and through it all runs a gentle reminder that our stories, however different, often rhyme.

While the skill the performers bring is undeniable, the music incredibly enjoyable, the narrative feels loosely strung. More a collage than a carefully stitched arc. The play sometimes leans on charm and nostalgia, skimming the surface rather than plunging deeper. The staging too is kept simple, warm washes of light, minimal costumes, a set of chairs for the singers and their accompanying musicians forming the set, all designed to keep the focus squarely on the music. There’s a sense that it could go further, but chooses instead to stay safe.

For all its rough edges, the evening works wonderfully! The music is joyous and immediate, the performers warm and disarming. You leave humming, smiling, carrying with you the sense of having been let into someone else’s memories for a while.

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About the reviewer: Anushka Ghose is "the social media person" at QTP who also looks at all things copy. She writes at work and spends her time off work thinking about what to write next.