Little Theatre, Lower Hutt. 27 September 2026
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Varshita is a graduating student from Mudra Dance Academy in Wellington, where for over 30 years Sri Vivek Kinra has taught hundreds of pupils the technique and art of Bharata Natyam, classical Indian dance. Himself a graduate of the renowned Kalakshetra school in Chennai, Vivek has prepared close to 50 pupils to perform their arangetram—a two-hour solo recital, demanding remarkable physical stamina, mental focus and memory skills. It is usually ten years in the making.
An arangetram is offered once a pupil has reached the required level to join Mudra Dance company. Think Solo Seal in Ballet, an audition to join a professional company, plus a doctorate in the dance and music arts of India—delivered with all the beauty of a lotus flower, the grace of a young garuda, with perfect geometric precision and mastery of intricate musicality, dramatic then beguiling facial expressions flashing from serene to angry to scornful to grateful—with numerous narrative references to the Hindu pantheon of deities of whom there are 600,000 manifestations.
Varshita is a 17 year old school student at Newlands College, interested in biology and chemistry and hoping to follow a science training and career. You could re-read the previous paragraph, and trust me that I am not exaggerating or over-writing what is involved in combining dance arts and education. Would that our politicians were listening…
There is evidence of much family and community support in the foyer beautifully adorned with flowers and photographs. The stage is set with embroidered banners, and in the corner is a shrine with a statue of Shiva as Nataraj, Lord of the Dance, as spiritual overseer of the proceedings. Something exquisite this way comes, restoring hope in education and arts for young people, and you have to feel blessed to be invited to share the event.
I am to be the guest speaker at the occasion. Whatever I wear, I’ll be underdressed among the radiant sapphire, crimson, emerald, torquoise, gold and purple saris and kurtas that will fill the theatre. The previous day I had found a purple pashmina shawl in an op(portunity) shop, with sparkling sequins spelling out the word Hope. That will do.
More importantly, what will I say? No need to tell this capacity audience about the intricacies of Bharata Natyam, you’d be preaching to the converted, and anyway there are extensive essays on each of the various dance forms in the printed program. Varshita dances the striking clarity of an alarippu that turns the dancing body from a bud into a bloom. Her majestic and sustained varnam has dramatic urgency in the love theme of its song text—Oh Shiva, why are you angry with me? Cupid is shooting his flowery arrows at me in excess. Don’t be in indifferent towards me. Please come and accept me. There’s poetry in the dance and drama, and the thrilling thillana that will end the performance suggests that Shiva has by now stopped testing and teasing Varshita and removed all her woes. The program has not been a string of separate items but rather a single journey towards the triumphant outcome. Most of the items are choreographed by Kinra, to music especially recorded in India, languages of song texts in Sanskrit, Telugu, Tamil or Hindi. Three changes of beautiful costume are used, all of ravishing colours.
What I can do in a speech is refer to a number of connections between India and New Zealand. Kinra’s contribution here has been well recognised in various honours, as well as by the larger community. Who knew though, that the local leading engineering firm BECA, recently celebrated 25 years of shared education between New Zealand and India of the technology of the base isolaters that save lives in earthquakes? A half-hour visit to the office of President Modi was included in the celebration.
The previous week had seen the Mudra Academy performance with many youngsters on stage at Whirinaki theatre. The representative from the Indian High Commission gave the speech on that occasion, and used the word tamariki, which is Maori for children (a token maybe, but underscoring the wisdom in encouraging respect for an indigenous language. Would that our politicians were listening. Our children, plus continuing education for all of us. What else is there?).
I am gifted a beautiful sari cloth in wine red and gold. I won’t be wearing it but it is already draped over my shelf of dance books and glinting in reflected sunlight. The name Varshita is Sanskrit for rain, plenty, abundance, fertility. We had ventured through a wild Spring rainstorm to reach the theatre, so the day in every sense belonged to the dancer and the dance. How can we know the one from the other? We can’t.
Jennifer Shennan, 1 October 2026
Featured image: Varshita Pasupuleti in a moment from her performance. Photo: © Sasi Harsha Photography
