Neil D’Souza as Krishna and Anaka Maharaj-Sandhu as Arjuna in Why Not Theatre’s Mahabharata (Shaw Festival, 2023) | Photo by David Cooper
“Don’t be confused by plots. Within the river of stories flows infinite wisdom. That is your true inheritance.”
This is an early bit of advice from the Storyteller, our narrator (played with warm and diligent serenity by co-creator Miriam Fernandes). A useful and comforting primer, especially for those who did not grow up with these stories, it eases the burden of tracking the precise genealogy and timeline of this multi-generational epic. Letting the feelings and ideas guide me, I always knew where I was in the story, despite not having a hope in hell of remembering each and every name and their place on the family tree.
A Why Not Theatre production, presented in partnership with Canadian Stage, Mahabharata, Parts 1 & 2 is a theatrical rendering of the ancient Sanskrit text foundational to Hinduism. Holding firm in its rich gestalt for four and a half hours, it is, at once, both grand and wholly intimate. Pulling poetry from Carole Satyamurti’s Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling, creators Ravi Jain and Fernandes draw us into a world that is, at once, mythic and fully human—the sort of fervent experience that feels like a vital offering.
The cast of Why Not Theatre’s Mahabharata (Shaw Festival, 2023) | Photo by David Cooper
Part One, Karma: The Life We Inherit, begins with a vast, open, utilitarian space. The unadorned back wall of the theatre is visible behind the onstage musicians and a line of back lights—used, with sparing effectiveness, to blind us at key moments. This meta-theatricality is a prominent feature of Lorenzo Savoini’s set design. As this first part progresses, the stark features of the stage give way to the mechanisms of theatrical illusion that gradually creep in and overwhelm us—culminating, in this first part, with a massive, illuminated circular mirror descending as the rival clans prepare for war. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
The story, in essence, is about cycles of vengeance and asks us if peace is ever possible when justice is perpetually sought. The framing device here conjures an image of thousands of snakes strung up for slaughter in revenge for one of them killing a king’s father. As their fate hangs in the balance, the Storyteller weaves the Mahabharata around that king—a portrait of the Pandava and Kaurava clans mutual antagonism. Their strife wreaks havoc on the earth and humanity.
Though hardly the most extraordinary aspect of Kevin Lamotte’s lighting design, a set of footlights, casting huge shadows of the performers, evokes the mythic consequences of even the smallest gestures. The sand, kicked about the stage defiantly, is gritty and grounding, reminding us of the palpable human context of all this allegorical conflict.
Meher Pavri. Neil D’Souza as Krishna and Anaka Maharaj-Sandhu in Why Not Theatre’s Mahabharata (Shaw Festival, 2023) | Photo by David Cooper
Part Two, Dharma: The Life We Choose begins with full theatricality not just in place, but dynamically expanded. We see the fiery battle of Kurukshetra play out immersed in a series of visually stunning digital projections. A live video feed of key players, in magnificent close-ups during pre-war negotiations, is displayed on a bank of enormous, looming monitors like contemporary news footage. The Storyteller directs this telecast, motioning to a technician who shifts camera angles for peak impact.
The entire ensemble is compelling here. Some that resonated most for me were Anaka Maharaj-Sandhu’s Arjuna and Navtej Sandhu’s Karna, rival archers, mirroring each other as they struggle to reconcile their warrior instincts with an aching self-awareness and torn between conflicting loyalties. Darren Kuppan’s Duryodhana, always loosening his muscles in an animalistic preparation for battle, is, in strange duality, both inherently sexy and repulsively cruel. As Krishna, Neil D’Souza is a real card—a goofy sort who doesn’t take himself too seriously because, owing to his intense power, he doesn’t have to. The whirling intensity of Jay Emmanuel’s dance as Shiva, the destroyer god manifesting the horrors of war, is an exhilarating highlight.
Over the course of this saga, there is an abundance of stirring theatrical spectacle and potent human moments. Some are devastating—like when the dignified princess Draupadi (Goldy Notay) is stripped and humiliated by Duryodhana amidst a hall of men—some profoundly sweet—queen Gandhari (Notay) blindfolding herself to experience the world in solidarity with her blind king Dhritarashtra (Ravin J. Ganatra). There is self-aware humour in some of the magical happenings that occur—people born from fish, becoming adults instantly or worms in apples turning violently into snakes.
There is an abundance of quotable lines, the most memorable of which are pithy insights into the ethos of war:
“When people prefer their children over the children of others, war is near.”
“War is inevitable when the truth cannot be agreed upon.”
My absolute favourite sequence is the glorious Sanskrit opera rendition of the Bhagavad Gita that concludes the first act of Part 2. In the midst of battle, Arjuna is deeply disturbed and wonders: “in this task of killing my family, do I kill myself?” As enlightening guidance, Krisha offers a holistic view of spiritual reality as time slows to crawl and the background, crafted by projection designer Hana S. Kim, explodes into a visualization of cosmic epiphanies. Composed by Suba Sankaran and John Gzowski, performed by Mehar Pavri as an operatic extension of Krisha, this 15-minute sequence held me utterly spellbound—almost had me wishing the entire production was performed in this way.
Coming full circle, the theatrical artifice—those constructs that have so thoroughly seduced us—is banished. After the roiling heat of battle, a sombre finale sees the cast huddled around small fires. They, and we, must accept that there are no heroes or villains here, only choices and consequences. Where might we find comfort in all this sound and fury? You have to see it to know.
Mahabharata is a majestic achievement, bursting with sacred, devastating and whimsical beauty.
Mahabharata Part One: Karma: The Life We Inherit
running April 8 to 26, 2025
Bluma Appel Theatre (27 Front Street East)
running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes (with intermission)
Mahabharata Part Two: Dharma: The Life We Choose
running April 11 to 27, 2025
Bluma Appel Theatre (27 Front Street East)
running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes (with intermission)
Anaka Maharaj-Sandhu, Munish Sharma, Shawn Ahmed and Sukania Venugopal with the cast of Why Not Theatre’s Mahabharata (Shaw Festival, 2023) | Photo by David Cooper