Anupam Kher and Swaroop Sampat Featured Play Draws Attention to Forced Loneliness and Chosen Solitude
- As the curtain fell, the ensemble cast of Jaane Pehchaane Anjaane’ received a standing ovation —a fitting response to performances filled with humor, warmth, vulnerability, and emotional depth.
Last Friday on September 18th, my daughter and I went to see the wonderful musical production “Jaane Pehchaane Anjaane” at the San Jose Center for the Performing Arts. The show featured Anupam Kher and Swaroop Sampat, who shared the stage after a 20-year hiatus. Produced by Anupam Kher Studio, written by Gajendra Ahire, with music by Anu Malik and lyrics by Kausar Munir, the excellent production explored aging, loneliness, companionship, and the courage to live life on one’s own terms.
The evening held a special meaning for me because of my connection to Swaroop’s family. Her mother, Dr. Mrudula Sampat, worked as one of my senior colleagues in the Department of Pathology at the Tata Memorial Cancer Center in Bombay. When I was a young professional in 1990, she showed great fondness for me, and I still remember reviewing pathology slides with her. Watching Swaroop on stage brought back those memories. At times, her hair, certain expressions, the way she draped her saree, and even her gait reminded me deeply of her mother.
We began the evening on an expectant note, quickly devouring flavorful samosas before the show. Anupam Kher appeared as the narrator in a flowing white, dervish-like costume and immediately established a wonderful rapport with the audience. Larger than life, he teased the Friday-evening latecomers with his characteristic wit and impeccable comic timing before effortlessly moving into the narrative.
The play revolves around two widowed individuals in Mumbai: Mr. Pathak (Anupam Kher) and Mrs. Desai (Swaroop Sampat). Mr. Pathak, an unassuming and quirky former bank employee, lives alone in an apartment. He has developed the melancholic habit of observing lonely people around him, mentally keeping score of those who gather at street corners smoking, eat alone in their homes, or simply stare at passersby. Kher displays his three decades of acting prowess in moments when he reprimands audience members for using their phones, all without breaking the flow of his conversation in Mrs. Desai’s living room. His way of speaking, his pauses, and his little mannerisms add depth to his awkward yet warm character.
Mrs. Desai lives in a large bungalow and possesses an equally eccentric personality. In one of the funniest early moments, Mr. Pathak discovers her watering her beloved plants and learns that she avoids bathing on alternate days to save two buckets of water for them. They meet again at a vegetable vendor’s stall. When Mrs. Desai lacks change, Mr. Pathak pays six rupees on her behalf for her “singaphalli” (which he happily translates into beetroot). She tracks down his apartment to repay the “debt,” and that simple exchange sparks an unexpected companionship.
The play touches the heart by exploring loneliness and its different forms. Mrs. Desai reveals that her late husband was a “thief of sorts” who worked in the Public Works Department and embezzled government money. She describes a deeply unhappy marriage where her husband merely “used” her as a wife and mother while he traveled abroad with other women and maintained clandestine relationships.
The younger female characters, played by Meghna Malik and Maya Sharma, provide another perspective. Maya lives as Mrs. Desai’s paying guest and creates a glamorous, heavily filtered social-media identity to attract male attention. Meanwhile, another young woman’s four-year live-in relationship gradually collapses because her partner chooses a transactional corporate lawyer with a loud car fob over her. She lets him go without any qualms because she wants to “go with the flow.”
In contrast, Mr. Pathak and Mrs. Desai find simple pleasures in companionship. They share mouth-watering, simple home-cooked meals, visit one another, listen to music, and celebrate birthdays. In one especially moving scene, Mrs. Desai wears a tiara while Mr. Pathak attempts to sing a popular childhood school prayer for her birthday. She corrects him, and his humor gradually gives way to genuine emotion. His tears and his eventual birthday song reveal just how deeply both characters have starved for affection and human connection. This scene made me laugh and cry at the same time.
Soon, positive changes take root. Mr. Pathak carries his pressure cooker with chicken to Mrs. Desai’s home, begins dressing better in his “honeymoon days” T-shirt, and rediscovers the pleasure of taking care of himself. Mrs. Desai also expresses a desire to go for walks.
However, the arrival of their adult children threatens this fragile happiness. Rumors about their friendship lead to a confrontation. While Mr. Pathak’s daughter offers encouragement, Mrs. Desai’s son, ”an arrogant engineer” from San Jose tries to force his mother to sell her bungalow and move to America. She recognizes that he cares more about the property than her happiness. In one of the play’s strongest moments, she takes control of her own affairs, legally gives him his rightful share, and chooses to remain in Mumbai to live independently.
The play draws attention to forced loneliness and chosen solitude. Meaningful companionship can enrich life, but so can the freedom to occupy one’s own space. Perhaps Kher needs to linger longer on the empowerment of solitude in a future play. The duo reminds us, over and over again, that throughout our lives we encounter people who act like “silent” school bells—purposeless, easily forgotten, and adding nothing meaningful to our lives. We must find our own path despite these obstructionists.
As the curtain fell, Anupam Kher, Swaroop Sampat, and the ensemble cast received a standing ovation from the audience—a fitting response to performances filled with humor, warmth, vulnerability, and emotional depth.
On our drive home, my daughter and I continued discussing the play and its larger message. With wonderful acting, soulful music, and an evocative staging of tree-lined Mumbai streets, rain-soaked walks under a single umbrella, and camping in the wilderness, the musical drama left us with full hearts and plenty to think about. I felt touched by my daughter’s observation that Mrs. Desai and Mr. Pathak acted like two children eager to spend time with each other without an agenda.
For me, however, the night held an additional layer of emotion. Seeing Swaroop on stage, moving so gracefully in her sarees, constantly reminded me of her mother. That connection transformed the evening into a beautiful bridge between a cherished memory from my professional life and an unforgettable night at the theater. We owe our thanks to the entertainment company “Instant Karma” for bringing Jaane Pehchaane Anjaane to the Bay Area.
With roots in Georgia and the Bay Area, and her heart still tethered to a childhood mango tree in Mumbai, India, Monita Soni approaches writing as a contemplative practice. A path to honor humanity. She has published hundreds of movie reviews, book critiques, poems, and essays, and contributed to combined literary works. Her two books are “My Light Reflections” and “Flow Through My Heart.” You can hear her commentaries on Sundial Writers Corner, WLRH 89.3 FM.