With humour woven into vulnerability and rebellion softened through tenderness, the spoken word artist Nayab Midha has created a space where deeply personal stories become collective conversations. Her latest India tour, Rajkumari, reimagines the fairy tales women grow up hearing, questioning ideas of rescue, dependence, and happily-ever-afters. Ahead of bringing the tour to Hyderabad on May 23, Nayab reflects on the tour, poetry, her unconventional journey and more
The title Rajkumari, Nayab explains, is intentionally ironic because it questions everything princess stories have traditionally taught women. “These stories teach us that one day a Rajkumar will arrive and everything will become fine,” says Nayab. The show begins with a little girl sitting in her ‘castle’, waiting for Rajkumar to rescue her. But as the narrative unfolds, the child slowly begins questioning the stories she inherited. She notices that the women around her — her mother and aunt — never actually lived the lives these fairy tales promised them. Satire quietly runs through the performance, dismantling the familiar idea of rescue and dependence. “By the end, we completely change the story people have grown up hearing. There is a poetry piece in the show that ends with the thought that the Rajkumari doesn’t go anywhere. She stays. She chooses herself,” Nayab shares.
For Nayab, Hyderabad remains deeply emotional because some of her earliest breakthroughs as an artist happened there. She recalls performing at Stone Waters alongside a fellow artist during her early years. “Coming back to Hyderabad always feels emotional because the city gave me one of my earliest and biggest boosts as an artist,” she recounts. Performing in unfamiliar places, she explains, always comes with uncertainty. “When you are performing in new places, you are constantly nervous. You don’t know how the audience will react or how to handle that energy,” says Nayab. But Hyderabad, she insists, has always responded with warmth, “The people of Hyderabad have always been incredibly kind, warm, and appreciative of art.”
That same spirit of storytelling also shapes what Rajkumari personally means to her. Nayab admits she has always been rebellious, but says her understanding of rebellion has evolved over time. “People often confuse rebellion with aggression or fighting. But rebellion, to me, is standing up for what is right,” she expresses. She describes her work as an act of ‘gentle rebellion’ — resistance expressed not through violence, but through language and emotion. “This rebellion does not come with swords or violence. It comes with words,” adds Nayab.
Over the years, Nayab has frequently been referred to as the ‘female Zakir Khan’, a comparison she says began with ‘Roshan Abbas sir’ and gradually stayed with her. Yet she believes women everywhere are expected to constantly prove themselves, not only in spoken word. “If you look closely, the ratio of men and women in spoken word is actually very balanced. And when representation becomes balanced, the burden of constantly proving yourself becomes lighter,” Nayab reflects.
Her transition from engineer to full-time artist, however unconventional, never felt difficult to her. “The moment I left my job, I was genuinely happy,” she notes. She jokes that she barely understood software development and was probably the worst software developer one could find. With visibility, however, came resistance. Nayab believes social media has transformed into ‘samaj’ itself, where everyone feels entitled to an opinion. She expresses, “If you are seen as a quiet, agreeable, ‘cute’ girl who never speaks too loudly, people are very comfortable with your presence in public spaces. But the moment you become outspoken, rebellious, or unapologetic, people start calling you arrogant.”
She says she has often faced criticism both for the themes she explores and for occupying larger spaces as a woman artist. “Whether it is because of the kind of shows I do or simply because I speak openly, there are always people questioning why I am being given space or visibility. You cannot create art for people who are uncomfortable with your existence in the first place,” Nayab concludes.
