A warm embrace: that is what the beginning of Abhishek Thapar’s performance, My Home at the Intersection, felt like. Sharing a small piece of lemon pickle made by his already passed grandfather in the foyer of the venue, the performer makes us feel special. We are given a unique opportunity to connect through this family relic. It fosters a feeling of community and connection. It forces us, in the most gentle possible way, to open ourselves to what is about to happen inside the theatre hall.

The performance brings themes of memory, history, family and trauma in a beautiful, complex, and layered way. The storytelling creates a balance between zooming in on Tapar’s family stories and individual memories, and zooming out to historical events of shared traumatic experiences of war, conflict and displacement. 

The floor, where both audience and performer sit, is covered with wheat grains. This carpet of grains becomes a canvas where Abhishek draws images of his memories in front of us.  This intimate setting, combined with the performer’s serene delivery, draws the spectator’s attention to listen attentively. It is as if I were listening to the stories of my grandfather all over again. I felt like a child, sitting on the carpet floor listening to him swing in his chair and tell the most peculiar stories of his life. 

But this warm, welcoming and inviting setting is just a frame to ask difficult questions. The performance closes off with a poignant reflection: do I finish the pickle or store it for another 34 years? What do we do with our history? How to cherish, honor and learn from it? Do you come back or do you let it go? 

This is not something I feel very often after seeing a performance, and it feels even a bit tacky to say this, but I felt gratitude. Not in a positivity-coach-vibe kind of way. But I felt grateful to be part of that moment and to listen to that story. And that is because Abhishek made us feel special and comfortable enough to feel vulnerable and to ask the hard questions.