Play Review: I killed My Mother/ It wasn't my fault

I walked into I Killed My Mother not really knowing what to expect. I am a regular at Prithvi, but it was Tafreehwale's first show here. The name is provocative, sure, but what I found was something way more layered, messy, honest, and surprisingly funny in places.

It felt like the inside of someone’s head had been turned into theatre. Loud, confusing, deeply emotional... and somehow still sharply self-aware.

Let’s start with the protagonist. Shreya Sharma is a total force on stage. She doesn’t just act she becomes the kind of person you’ve met before. Maybe in a local train. Maybe in your own mirror. The way she shifted between numbness, rage, awkwardness, and those little cracks of vulnerability, it was flawless. Not showy. Just real.

And then there’s the brilliant device of the four girls who represent voices in her head. Anxiety, doubt, impulsiveness, that annoying “I’m okay” cheerleader voice, all of them have a seat at the table. The scenes where they talk over each other while the protagonist is trying to scroll Instagram or recover from a fight, or having an emotional breakdown: they hit hard. That’s exactly what it feels like. You think you’re alone, but there’s this full-blown panel discussion happening in your brain.

One scene that really stood out for me was the one with the rickshaw driver. She’s jobless, spiraling, and ends up talking to a guy who studied engineering but is now driving an auto. No preachiness. Just this quiet exchange that lands like a punch. It says so much about the state of young people in this country, the frustration, the disillusionment, the absurdity of it all.

What also worked was how raw the show felt. The set design was minimal, but the lighting and sound filled in the gaps. You hear traffic, phone pings, Bollywood songs — like the city itself is pressing down on her. It’s not a perfect production in the commercial sense, but it doesn’t try to be. It’s intimate. It’s crowded. It’s honest.

I later found out Mallika Shah is the one behind it all: the writer, director, the brain pulling this off. And honestly? She’s got it. She understands the tempo of modern anxiety and how social media, patriarchy, self-hate, all bleed into one confusing, exhausting stream. That’s not easy to capture, but she’s done it with nuance and guts.

Shreya Sharma’s performance deserves all the praise, she’s magnetic. And the entire cast, from the inner voice crew to the guy playing the rickshaw driver (Vaibhav Kapatia), holds their own.

To sum it up: this play isn’t just a coming-of-age story or a commentary on mental health. It’s both. And neither. It’s more like an echo of what so many young people feel but don’t know how to say.

Mallika Shah, is onto something. This isn’t just talent. This is the kind of work that stays with people. Looking forward to her next.

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