Summary of this article
Nukkad Naatak (A Street Play) is written and directed by Tanmaya Shekhar.
The film released on 27 February following a diligent, long-spanning marketing campaign that employed inventive strategies to draw audiences in.
Starring Molshri Singh, Shivang Rajpal, Danish Hussain and Nirmala Hazra, the film navigates systemic inequities while foregrounding the importance of community and the right to education.
The title of this little indie film with a big heart gets one thinking. Nukkad Naatak (2026) infiltrates the mind with images of a street play, perhaps even people standing in a circle, mouthing awkward breathwork patterns and sounds. Although the film itself is not quite limited to the subject of a nukkad naatak, it fully embodies the principles of the same—engaging audiences through songs and chants, employing simplistic storytelling and delivering a social message at the end.
By now, it’s no secret that the makers of the film, writer-director Tanmaya Shekhar and actor Molshri Singh ran an ultra-successful social media (and traditional) marketing campaign for their film, with a series called “How To Enter Bollywood.” But there’s something so earnest about a determined bunch of artists parading across the country in a leased caravan to promote their film. The consistent persuasiveness spanning years makes one want to be there to witness it. It’s as if repeated exposure to the film’s name chanted over Instagram and YouTube along with its sincere, stubborn filmmakers makes for a truly compelling case—just like a…you guessed it…nukkad naatak.
An indie film with sold out theatrical shows is a rare sight and a triumph to say the least. Nukkad Naatak follows two IT college students Molshri (Molshri Singh) and Shivang (Shivang Rajpal) who are a part of Abhay, a college theatre group headed by Molshri herself.
The film wastes no time in setting up how different their temperaments and worldviews are—or perhaps even their future priorities. Shivang is the subdued, studious and secluded kind. Bullied by other men in the college for being gay and dreading to join his father’s hospital, he finds solace in Molshri and the theatre group. Molshri, on the other hand, embodies textbook activism and is ready to throw hands whenever an unjust situation presents itself—without thinking about the logistics or the consequences of her actions. Some might call her character idealistic and impulsive, but it’s quite the reality of colleges and the rebellious person they bring out of you.
Upon witnessing their canteen server being harassed by senior staff for mistakenly dropping a tray of food, Molshri decides to avenge his unfair salary cut. In doing so, she drags Shivang into the mess, as they steal canteen supplies to make up for the amount. As their termination letters loom overhead, they’re granted a second chance.
These two misfits navigate systemic injustices, attempting to persuade marginalised street communities to pursue education, alongside confronting their own personal lives during their college years. The film follows their breakdowns and breakthroughs here on, in accomplishing the task of recruiting at least five children from the slums in the nearby school.
The film is rooted in the director’s real-life experiences observing their parents’ efforts to teach children from the slums. It vividly depicts how underprivileged families often perceive education as an unnecessary luxury, while children are seen as a source of income through begging for alms. It also examines the systemic hurdles involved in running NGOs, issuing government documents and confronting the harsh realities of poverty and child labour.
On the surface, the film tells a no-nonsense story, even if too good-willed in its nature to feel grounded in current reality. It’s as if the film embodies some of the same naive optimism Molshri does, thinking that one person or one action can influence a whole lot. If that were completely false, the film wouldn’t have seen the light of day in theatres at all. But when the film finally arrives on the big screen, one finally confronts the reality that perhaps its greatest strength lies in its passion, teamwork and good intent. Simplicity in storytelling here doesn’t imply lack of effort or inventiveness, though it reflects in the characterisation and worldbuilding of the film.
Set mostly in the fictional campus of Zenith Institute Of Technology—the college-life aspect of Molshri and Shivang’s life comes through convincingly and so does their stint of performative activism. Their interiority, however, is given varied priorities. Shivang comes across as an interesting character with a charismatic command over the screen—his conflicts and the decisions feel far more complex than the film allows him to delve into. A closeted man who seeks to leave the country, learns to embrace his body and earns a living through a cam show presents a deeply compelling narrative in itself.
The film, though, slightly prioritises Molshri’s arc more without allowing her the same complexities as Shivang. Sure, she’s a “ziddi” woman, but what more? Her backstory and much of her personal life remain detached from her screen time, only appearing through faint glimpses of her estranged relationship with her boyfriend—centrally focused on the theatre group and attempting to educate Chhoti (Nirmala Hajra). One can’t help but wonder if the filmmakers thought of exploring more multi-faceted aspects to her life.
Nukkad Naatak is musically catchy to say the least. Music director Parthhesh Menon along with lyricist Pahaad weave together songs like “Badhe Chal” and “Ka Se Koyal”, infusing the film’s sonic landscape with heartfelt energy. Ihjaz Aziz’s camerawork breathes life into the pulsing urgency of Molshri & Shivang’s chaos, bringing a certain intimate charm to those witnessing their underdog tale. The film’s larger messaging on the importance of community and rooted activism shines through Shivang and Molshri, despite this being their first film.
Just as a candle flame can light another unburned wick, it becomes a moral duty to pass the baton if life has been kind to you. This is what is truly admirable about the film—its good intentions, despite its overly simplistic, social-cause-driven storytelling. Privilege can make people blind to their own limitations, convincing them they are doing their best, but grassroots realities hold up an unfamiliar mirror, forcing them to reconsider how they present themselves in the world and which ideals they truly stand behind.
The film consistently circles around the idea of belonging and finding a community—whether through college clubs, friends or even those one cannot relate to socially. Through these associations, individuals can develop awareness and feel that they have a safe space. Nukkad Naatak itself becomes a “safe space” for those who believe in standing up for others and being a voice for change.
The film carries the rawness and imperfections that inevitably accompany a film of an indie scale. Its direction feels like it is still discovering its voice, yet remains deeply promising. Its heart and sincerity do not entirely eclipse its flaws, but they soften them. One leaves with a warmth lingering in the heart, accompanied by a quiet sense of wonder and pride in what it strives to become.
