Splendour, spectacle, and the meaning of truth

Inside the hushed, hallowed hall of Mumbai’s Jamshed Bhabha Theatre, a curious and quietly courageous thing occurred. A newspaper — that daily dispenser of declarations — invited its readers not merely to believe it, but to think with it. Not simply to consume truth, but to chase it.

(The article is reproduced with permission from the Indian Express)
Tesseract: The Geometry of Truth arrived with the promise of spectacle, and spectacle it delivered — dancers dazzling, music mounting, light leaping across the stage like lightning in a philosophical storm. But what lingered long after the applause subsided was not simply the splendour. It was the suggestion beneath the shimmer:

Truth is not a trophy handed down.

Truth is a task taken up.

I went to the theatre with Joyce Arora, who for years worked in the marketing and sales team of the Indian Express — someone who understands the ecosystem of newspapers from the inside, the delicate dance between editorial ambition and the practical machinery that keeps a newsroom alive. Joyce is also the mother of two women who have become forces of nature in their own right — Malaika Arora and Amrita Arora.

Yet the Joyce I know is not one drawn to flashbulbs and fanfare. She, like me, prefers the anonymity of the audience — the quiet privilege of sitting unseen while ideas take the stage.

The truth is we went for a friend. Our scribe friend from the Times of India, Vinay Mishra, had invited us. And insisted. And reminded. The sort of gentle persistence only journalists possess — the belief that a story matters enough to pursue. Joyce and I finally said yes because we trusted him. How lucky we are that we did.

Because what Vinay brought us to witness was not merely a performance. It was a provocation.

The evening opened with grace. Meera Jain stepped onto the stage to welcome the audience, her voice calm, composed, quietly compelling. Behind her stood Samir Jain, not rushing to speak but choosing instead to defer to the voice that carried the room. In a world where power so often clamours for centre stage, the moment felt quietly radical.

Meera spoke of travel and theatre, of Broadway evenings and family journeys, of curiosity kindled across continents. It became clear that the inspiration for this ambitious production was born from experiences shared by the Jain family — the simple joy of watching stories unfold on stages across the world and the desire to bring that wonder home.

And here is where the conversation becomes interesting. We live in an age addicted to accusation. Labels leap from lips faster than understanding. Someone is dismissed as elitist, someone else derided as entitled, another declared woke, another condemned as fascist. We fling these words like stones and call it discourse.

But sitting in that theatre, listening to Meera Jain speak, something else came into focus. Yes, travel is privilege. Yes, exposure to global theatre is advantage. But what matters — what always matters — is what one chooses to do with privilege.

The Jain family could have kept those experiences to themselves. They could have continued travelling, watching theatre abroad, enjoying it privately, quietly, comfortably. Instead, they chose to build something here. They chose to bring that inspiration back to Mumbai and share it with thousands of strangers. That decision transforms privilege into something rarer. It becomes a gift. And what a gift it was.

When the lights dimmed and the stage awakened, the theatre seemed to inhale collectively. Nearly a hundred dancers surged into motion — bodies blazing with purpose, patterns pulsing with precision. Screens shimmered like celestial windows, colours cascaded like cosmic confetti, and music rose with a rhythm that felt both ancient and urgent.

At one electrifying moment, the chorus lifted a line into the hall:

“Seek the light beyond the noise.”

The lyric landed like a lighthouse beam cutting through fog. In an era overwhelmed by information — opinions, algorithms, accusations — clarity feels like a rare and radical act.

Then the tempo softened. A quieter refrain floated through the theatre:

“Listen to the silence between the seconds.”

And suddenly the room stilled.

The choreography throughout the performance was astonishing — dancers darting, dissolving, and reassembling like living constellations. At times they resembled philosophers circling each other in debate. At others, they became journalists wrestling with the restless roar of modern information.

Technology amplified the vision — vast LED environments unfolding like digital galaxies, immersive soundscapes swelling and subsiding like philosophical tides.

Yet the beating heart of the production remained unmistakably human.

Breath.

Bone.

Body.



Experience “Tesseract: The Geometry of Truth”, running from 16 to 22 March 2026 at NCPA Mumbai. Book here