Finally, the lights dim and the performance begins – though I would argue that the performance started from the second Rajan started speaking to us in the foyer. He opens with a monologue introducing himself to us, and boldly claiming that by the end of the night we will be cured of all our problems, loneliness, heartache, painful urination, you name it. Before we get into the swing of things, Rajan and accompanist Adam Ogle sing a duet inspired by traditional music that takes us straight to the streets of contemporary India – their voices blend together so well that at times, I truly cannot tell who is singing which note.

We are then transported to the hot, sticky, bustling setting that is the Bangalore train station. The Guru’s chai stand has seen better days, and up until this point he has lived his life selling chai, cockfighting, and fixing the problems of all those he encounters, until seven beautiful young sisters arrive at the station to sing. The arrival of these sisters kicks off a series of events that tell a deeply complex and heartbreaking story, which is actually based on a nugget of truth. When Rajan and Justin Lewis (co-writer and director) visited Bali, as they often do to train with the mask dancers and shadow puppeteers, they met Nyoman Sukerta, a master mask dancer and the real life inspiration for the guru. This Guru passed away in 2014, his spirit filled the room. I’d highly encourage you to read about him in the program.

It’s hard to find things to critique in a show so good, it almost feels like reaching. Anything I could find to pick apart in this show is quickly sewn together by the expert storytelling and dramaturgy (Murray Edmond). From the clever miming, to the onstage chai making, to the musical interludes, everything has its place and feels painstakingly thought out. Because there are so many incredible details to focus on, I almost forgot about the slight of hand. I’m not talking about theatre magic, I’m talking about real magic that makes you go ‘now how the HELL did he do that??’ I wish I could tell you what he did that was so cool, but you’re far better off going to see it for yourself. I mean it when I say I want to make shows like this when I grow up (yes, I know I’m 25 and technically grown up).

Lighting (Sam Mence) and set design (John Verryt) serve to enhance the atmosphere the writing creates. Beautiful tapestries adorn the back, nestled between ornately designed room dividers, making up the backdrop of the real, functioning chai stand. Verryt’s costume design allows Rajan to play over 20 characters without it ever feeling strange that his costume remains unchanged, and his set design gives those characters a real, believable environment to come to life in.

“I will solve all of your problems.” And indeed he does, kind of. The Guru has a way of seeing wherever you are in life and meeting you halfway. Through his wit and charm, we trust him to hold our problems in the palm of his hand and examine them as they are, without fear or judgement, which is sometimes all the problem needs. It is rare to feel so at ease with a character within seconds of meeting them.

As I walk home, one thing the Guru said is swirling around my mind: “attachment is cruel, but it is beautiful.” That really summarises the whole show. Our attachments, to people or things or places, are beautiful, but we are often subjected to cruelty for attaining or keeping them.

My most cherished friend gave birth to my niece a few days ago, a perfect and precious little girl whose father is from India. I feel so grateful to have seen a show so soon after her birth that makes me want to understand that side of her whakapapa. To learn, to understand, is to love, and how lucky are we to learn and love in the theatre?

Guru of Chai is a masterpiece. You will laugh, you will cry, and you will leave wishing you had paid more attention when he was adding the secret ingredient to the chai recipe. This is not a show to be missed. This is, without a doubt, a five star show.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐