The ability to call somewhere ‘home’ is a primal instinct, and one that can drive people to acts of great courage or great evil, with evidence of both just as prevalent right now. In his Director’s Note, Ahi Karunaharan remarks that “we have all come from somewhere else, and it is in that moment when we can place our feet on the ground, breathe and call this land our Swabhoomi (my own land) [that] we can claim to have truly arrived.” As a fairly recent immigrant to New Zealand myself, this sentiment resonates strongly with me and binds me to these stories that are both very different to my own, but also very similar.

We walk into the theatre to find mounds of earth dotted around on the stage, and a fine haze hanging in the air. As the sound of waves gradually becomes more noticeable, a Bengali Man (Ram Manthry) takes the stage to explain his journey across the ocean with the East India Company, which ended when he fell in love with a woman from New Zealand and jumped ship. It is 1810, and this is the beginning of a story that continues to this very moment and beyond.

From here, the stage bursts into life with the first of many beautifully staged moments of visual storytelling. Karunaharan shows great skill in this and subsequent moments, using the stage as a canvas to paint images that linger in the mind and which become more meaningful as the story unfolds. These images are supported and enhanced by delicate lighting (designed by Tim Williams) and subtle and effective costumes (designed by Poppy Serano).

This first moment hints at numerous partings and journeys, introducing the full range of characters whose stories we will glimpse over the course of the show. There is also a clear sense of this man being a beginning, with all of the other characters ranked behind him, connected to and building on his act of courage in making the decision to commit to this new land.

From here, we jump to the present, where Samara (Divya Hariharan) and her brother Rahul (Aman Bajaj) are travelling to Pukekohe to interview Kanji (Mustaq Missouri), who has lived in Aotearoa for 97 years. The scene is quickly and effectively established, and there are many chortles of recognition from the audience as the siblings bicker their way to the meeting.

In this first meeting, Missouri’s Kanji is unsteady and frail, his voice high and feeble, but when he remembers arriving in New Zealand, and we move back in time with his memories, he straightens and strengthens, becoming the man who dared to make a long journey away from his family in search of ‘the dream’.

These movements in time are all accompanied by titles projected onto the screen at the back of the stage, and a pattern of quick cuts between places and times is established. We are rapidly introduced to a number of different groups of characters from many different time periods and parts of New Zealand and beyond.

I love the way the Gallipoli characters (played by Utsav Patel, Rishabh Kapoor, Dhruv Mody and Ram Manthry) are introduced, moving slowly and purposefully across the stage in the midst of a landscape created by another extremely effective use of the ensemble. All four actors show great commitment to the style of the scene as well as creating recognisably different characteristics for each soldier. Their work is uniformly strong throughout the show.

As more characters are introduced, we see concrete connections (such as family or work relationships) growing between some sets of characters, while others are connected by place or community or culture. There are some lovely moments of communities coming together to watch films or sporting events, where no dialogue is necessary and we simply enjoy seeing these people being together.

Amid these larger groups, there are smaller groups of characters such as the 1970s women’s group from Wellington, consisting of just two members, Geeta (Schweta Tomar) and Ambika (Sneha Shetty). The audience enjoys Geeta telling off the local children who hang around her house, perhaps recognising the way their own friends or family might behave.

Both Tomar and Shetty are engaging and convincing, drawing the audience into the everyday moments that become important as time goes on. These characters are given a story arc that develops and is ultimately resolved, which actually proves to be the exception in this play.

Another pair of characters who strike a chord with the audience are Anita (Sudeepta Vyas) and Mira (Sangeeta Hariharan), who are hiking in Otago in 1990. The easy camaraderie of the two women is convincingly captured by Vyas and Hariharan, and they gain some of the biggest laughs of the evening as they discuss their work, their husbands and the misconceptions of their colleagues. Much of what they experience is still recognisable today, with their concern about being so far away from other family members resonating strongly with me. 

The play is built from monologues, vignettes, fully fleshed out scenes and a variety of linking scenes. Some scenes and characters are more functional than fully developed, but the variety of stories, characters and modes of presentation means that for the great majority of the time, the story moves forward with pace and energy.

The ensemble work that links the scenes together, and which constantly refers back to the earth on the stage as a movement motif, is a very effective way of making the theme of connection concrete, as well as maintaining the energy of the performance.

There are some occasions where the energy of the piece does slacken, and this tends to be around the characters who are less fully developed and realised. For me, however, this doesn’t detract from the overall success of the show.

During the second half of the play Kanji (Mustaq Missouri) tells Samara that “you can never conclude” the story he is telling, as it has “too many strands”. This is the statement that pulls all of the threads of the show together for me. The webs of connections between characters and settings remind me of Toa Fraser’s Bare, andthere is much pleasure in seeing the ways in which connections are revealed, and gratification in seeing these connections grow and spread. Like seeds, those connections are nurtured through earth, through water and through the experiences of the characters so that they are strongly felt.

Some stories are resolved and some are not, meaning that dramatic tension is not always evident (or necessary). We are given a lyrical meditation on the ties that bind us together as communities and cultures, performed with commitment by a cast that works together and engages us.

When it comes, the end of the show seems abrupt and unexpected, but as I drive home, I muse that it is fitting in that it allows the stories that are being told to continue without us.

This is a play that gives new perspectives for many in the audience, and it is important that these stories are told and these voices are heard. Karunaharan’s great success as the director of this piece is his ability to engage us both imaginatively and emotionally. Although my immigration experience is very different to those portrayed here, by the end of the play I feel connected, understood and included as part of the rich fabric of modern New Zealand that is depicted here.

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