Justin Rogers and Kalyani Nagarajan Photo courtesy of Indian Ink Theatre Company

Mrs. Krishnan (Kalyani Nagarajan) is the proprietor of a small grocery store in Auckland. She has run the shop by herself for many years, since her husband died when their son, Abu, now a successful grown man, was a small child. She is expecting Abu to join her to celebrate Onam, the biggest festival of the year in Kerala, a state occupying a narrow strip of land that hugs the far southwestern coast of India. Each year at Onam, goes the ancient story, the spirit of King Mahabali, who ruled Kerala in a golden age but was punished for the vice of egotism, returns from the underworld to visit his beloved people. Feasts, parades, and tournaments are held to welcome King Mahabali's spirit.

Mrs. Krishnan expects Abu to join her for dinner but is shocked to enter the storeroom behind her shop and find the room full of strangerséthe audience. Her boarder, a college student named James (Justin Rogers), invited all of us, he tells her, as a surprise, to make this a special celebration. James has decorated the spaceéthe Frey black box is festooned with red paper-flower garlands draped on the walls and hanging from the ceilings. Wearing a King Mahabali costume with an elaborate gilded headdress, a brocade vest, and gauzy wide trousers, James hands each audience member a silky scarf or a lei to make us suitably festive for the occasion. He turns on pulsating music and encourages us to stand up and get in the mood for a party.

Upon entering and encountering this crowd (there are about 100 in the house), Mrs. Krishnan is understandably put in a frenzy, but she organizes herself for the task of preparing enough food to serve everyone, assigning some jobs to James and recruiting help from audience members. The ingredients are found wedged between the stacked cartons of grocery items in this back-storeroom. Soon, rice is boiling on an electric hot plate, onions are sauteing in an electric skillet, and the scent of aromatic seasonings fills the room.

In the course of this, Mrs. Krishnan reveals big news about her plans, James reveals a secret about himself, and Abuéwho doesn't actually appearéreveals a truth that falls hard on Mrs. Krishnan. None of these revelations are easy for the others to deal with, but the narrativeéto the extent the buoyant play has oneéis framed around coming to terms with the truth of our lives and finding community in the people gathered around you.

The pleasure in Mrs. Krishnan's Party, though, is primarily in the spirit of goodwill generated between the two actors, and through their warm and witty interactions with audience members (you can choose to sit in the back rows, which will spare you from that honor). Lewis' direction effectively includes the audience in animating the play. Both Ms. Nagarajan and Mr. Rogers are experienced improvisors who react effortlessly and with great humor to audience members. They remember each one's name as if an old friend, to call on them later in the show to affirm their opinion or help measure the salt and pepper being added to the pot.

Nagarajan has great comedic chops as the harried shopkeeper and overseer of the kitchen, and can effectively dial down to convey her feelings of loss over the death of her husband and wistfulness that her son's success means he has less time for her. Her face has remarkable elasticity, able to express any reaction with the precision of a Swiss watch. Her bodily movements, which throughout the play have been rather awkward and lacking in grace, transform into a stunning blend of discipline and passion as she climbs atop a table, changed out of a dowdy, ill-fitting cardigan and to into an elegantly flowing sari, and performs a dance set to traditional Indian rhythms.

Rogers' performance requires less of an emotional range, though he does have opportunities to show his vulnerable side. Primarily, he is an endearing and imaginative host, keeping the audience in the frame of mind that we are both watching a play and guests at a party. He does a great job of presenting James' cluelessness and tendency to look foolish, without overdoing the bit so that we consider him a genuine, feeling person and not a clown.

John Verryt's simple but effective set design includes the festive party decorations as well as the stacked cartons of food stuffséwe pass through a portal between them to enter the theater. On top of some of those cartons are narrow vases bearing a single bud, and framed photos of the late Mr. Krishnan and Abu in his graduation gown, signs that this windowless back-room is as much a home as Mrs. Krishnan has.

Fiona Nichol's costumes–that King Mahabali get-up, that tatty cardigan, and the lovely sari–are exquisite. Lia Kelly has done a marvelous job with sound design, which includes the ringing of the doorbell when customers enter the shop, party music (by way of James' device), and the repeated ringing of Mrs. Krishnan's phone, including the ambient sounds of a couple of butt-dialed calls. Jane Hakaraiai's lighting design is effectively integrated into the overall production.

Mrs. Krishnan's Party is not a wild raucous affair, but a good-humored, warmly inclusive one. It shows how two people, quite different by outward signs, find common ground that draws them together. Building on that, the play's laughter and candor manage to transform a room full of strangers into a makeshift community, even if just for 90 minutes.

And, of course, good, fragrant food always helps. The night I attended there was even enough for second helpings.

Mrs. Krishnan's Party, an Indian Ink Theatre Company production, runs through March 29, 2026, at the Frey Theater at St. Catherine University, 2004 Randolph Avenue, St. Paul MN. For tickets and information, please visit www.combustiblecompany.org.

Playwrights: Justin Lewis and Jacob Rajan; Director: Justin Lewis; Dramaturg: Murray Edmond; Set Design: John Verryt; Costume Design: Fiona Nichols; Lighting Design: Jane Hakaraia; Sound: Lia Kelly; Stage Manager: D. Andrew Potvin.

Cast: Kalyani Nagarajan (Mrs. Krishnan), Justin Rogers (James).