Shabana Azmi has been thrilling audiences in her tour of the one woman, one act, one hour play “Broken Images,” written by Girish Karnard, and directed by Alyque Padamsee. Last week she was at the recently renovated Reading Memorial Auditorium for a sold-out show.  Part of the proceeds were being donated to Akshay Patra, the organization working to reduce hunger in India. There was also a representative from Shabana Azmi’s own organization supporting the village her father came from.

The play presents the scenario of Madhavi, a Hindi short story writer who has suddenly found international success with her first novel, written in English. While this issue is often a hot-button topic for intellectuals in India, it is merely used as a segue into the real issue of the play – the exploration of the novelist’s relationship with invalid sister and husband. We witness Madhavi’s psychological deterioration as she speaks about the resentment she felt as a child when her sister required and claimed more attention from her parents, and how it took over her adult life as well.

The play opens with Madhavi introducing, on live television, the first screen of the film based on her novel. On the right side of the stage, we see a gigantic tv, streaming her speech live, while she speaks, seated on the left. This combination seems gimmicky and jarring at first, until her speech is over, and Madhavi’s image remains on the screen, even as the movie is supposed to play. We are startled when the image starts speaking to her, and we, as the audience, realize that the image is Madhavi’s subconscious revealing itself.

The way in which Madhavi seems to be speaking to herself, the stream of consciousness narration, and the gradual uncovering of her guilty conscience is reminiscent of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Telltale Heart.” Girish Karnad even plays with self-awareness in the way he allows the image on the screen to deliberate on its own existence. Finally, however, as Madhavi becomes more and more obsessed with the lack of attention she got from her parents and her husband, due to her sister, we realize that there is greater meaning for her sudden transition from Hindi short stories to English novels. Her suspicion about the relationship her husband had with her sister leads her to abandon any sisterly affection she may once have had. 

Despite the eerie nature of the play, there are a few laughs. The audience responded particularly well to one about Indian husbands, towards the middle of the play. The intensity of the play, however, builds all the way until the end in which Madhavi’s personality shatters under her own self-delusions. I could feel my heart rate rise suddenly, after which the play abruptly ended. My only quibble about the show was Ms. Azmi’s diction, which was occasionally difficult to follow. In the moments when she was most passionate, her enunciation was loud and clear, but in calmer moments, some of her words were swallowed up by the stage. Her riveting facial expressions and precise movements still kept the viewer from getting bored, however. Finally, the short length of the show, and lack of intermission kept the viewer transfixed until the end.

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