Let's say you’re having the toughest day ever. Nothing is going your way, and the odds aren’t just stacked against you — they’re villainously laughing in your face. Then you walk into her show, and suddenly, you realise you’re not alone. Because there’s Syama Harini on stage, ranting about everything under the sun. And somehow, in that moment, you feel a shift — an energy, a release. For Syama, too, it’s cathartic. That’s the power of good comedy. Ahead of her Telugu-English show Just Can’t (Kaavatledhu) at Aaromale - Cafe and Creative Community, Film Nagar on April 26, Syama speaks to CE about stumbling into comedy, her creative process, and more.
Excerpts
What is your upcoming show about?
Kaavatledhu is all about growing up middle class with classic South Indian parents — the kind who could guilt-trip you with just a look. It’s especially for us ’90s kids, who are forever caught in that weird space between feeling guilty for breaking too many rules and being too tired to follow all of them. This is my first time performing in Hyderabad, and I’m super excited to bring this show to what I’m sure will be an amazing audience.
What is your creative process?
I’m definitely more of a night owl; I tend to stay up late writing. Sometimes inspiration hits out of nowhere — like at 1 or 2 in the morning. I might be half-asleep when an idea strikes, and I’ll quickly wake up to record a voice note or jot down a premise in my Notes app. When I wake up, I write the jokes.
How would you define your style of comedy?
I’d say about 90% of my comedy is observational, but I’ve recently started exploring storytelling too. If I had to describe it in one word, though — it’s a rant. A very cathartic one. Whether people listen to me in real life or not, I know my audience will.
How has your experience been as a female comedian?
When I started out, there were very few women in the scene — but that’s changing now, and it’s great to see more female comics coming up. That said, there’s still a noticeable double standard. People do get offended more easily when I make a sex joke, whereas a male comic saying the same thing might not raise eyebrows. I remember doing a bit in 2018 about periods and pads — my mom actually asked me why I chose to talk about that on stage. But funnily enough, that set ended up doing really well, and I even performed it on Comicstaan. Overall, though, my experience has been wonderful. I’ve had great mentors and a lot of support along the way.
Tell us about your journey.
I was born into a Telugu-speaking family and raised in Chennai. I often visited Hyderabad to meet relatives, so I’ve always felt connected to both cities. Growing up, I was the funny kid in class and loved theatre. But I had no idea stand-up comedy could be a career.
That changed in college when I joined Evam, a live theatre company that helped bring stand-up to Chennai. I was exposed to the scene through amazing comedians like Karthik Kumar, Alexander Babu, and Daniel Fernandes. I later joined Evam full-time as an executive secretary to one of the CEOs, which gave me access to more shows and an entry into comedy. After many open mics, my break came with Comicstaan. Evam managed me for a year after, and things started picking up.
I went full-time last year, quitting my job after being cast in a series on Aha. Now I’m a full-time comedian and actor. One of my upcoming films is Housemates, and I’ve done two seasons of Vera Maari Office. I would love to do comedy in Telugu films.
Who is your favourite Telugu comedian?
I really look up to Sri Lakshmi garu. She has this incredible ability to deliver comedy with a completely straight face.
Any memorable moments with an audience member?
One thing that touches me is when children buy tickets for their elderly parents. And later, when those parents go back and say they actually enjoyed the show — that’s when I know I’ve done my job right. Making people from different generations laugh? That’s a win.
If not a comedian, what would you be?
If not comedy, I would just be chilling in life. I don’t know, I’ve reached this monk-like state — perhaps being in your 30s humbles you. (laughs)