Daringly complex and dangerously hypnotic, The Song of Śakuntalā (Sha-koon-tuh-la) is an utterly unique experience, encouraging exploration of self, soul, sound, and structure. This new opera, presented by IN Series and composed and directed by IN Series’ own artistic director, Timothy Nelson, melds traditional Indian classical music — including sitar music from famous sitarist Rajib Karmakar and percussion from Nitin Mitta — with elements of western Baroque classical in the vein of Alfano and Schubert.  The show is an interesting mashup in more ways than one. Although Nelson was originally inspired by the famous Indian playwright Kalidasa’s 5th-century play, The Recognition of Śakuntalā, the libretto for his opera consists of various additional texts, including foundational Indian poetry spanning several early centuries as well as works from more modern Indian poets. It is grounded by the textural structure of the sacred epic Indian poem, the Mahabharata. Emily Grace Konkle and Marvin Wayne Allen in ‘The Song of Śakuntalā.’ Photo courtesy of IN Series. The story, based on the opening section of the Mahabharata, is a love story between Śakuntalā (Teresa Ferrara) and Prince Dusyanta (Aryssa Leigh Burrs), narrated by their son Bharata (Marvin Wayne), now a grown man recounting the tragic tale of his parents and, in turn, his own origin story. Maintaining the notion in traditional operas that emotion trumps logic, the plot is relatively simplistic; however, the classic motifs of love, loss, longing, remembrance, and repentance are brought to the fore to feed the instrumental narrative. The Song of Śakuntala is composed as one long song, a meditation of sorts, a looped journey wherein you enter as one individual and leave as another. Nelson uses a classic Indian instrument, the tanpura, as the tonal device to provide the show’s consistent, underlying score. The continuous, harmonic drone radiating from the tanpura laid the foundation for the show’s unique array of instrumental movements. The instruments also presented sound effects to set the scene, such as percussion echoing the sounds of forest animals coming alive or the building heartbeats of our budding lovers as they first discover one another on a carnal level. The random tempo changes mirror the characters’ internal thoughts and feelings as their nervous energy erupts from love and fear. The Baroque instruments, such as the violin played by Emily Grace Konkle and the viola da gamba played by Niccolo Seligmann, also provide fascinating movements that heighten character development and narrative structure. The opera is structured in the traditional Indian style of seven acts, rather than the standard three- or five-act structure of its Western counterparts. At the start of each of the seven acts, Wayne, as Bharata, would voice the narrative actions about to take place to the audience, thereby allowing the vocalists and instrumentalists to focus on the emotional resonance of the scene rather than the plot arc.  Wayne’s warm, balanced voice reverberated through the microphone, weaving in and out of the steady tanpura tones, accompanied by instrumental soundscapes. Wayne, as our meditation guide, doled out his words with magical rhythmic timing, engulfing us in a state of mesmerizing mindfulness. When he finally sang in Act VII, it felt as though he had earned the moment as a result of having smoothly and successfully guided us along our individual and collective journeys up to that point.  TOP: Aryssa Leigh Burrs; ABOVE: Nitin Mitta, Timothy Nelson, and Rajib Karmakar, in ‘The Song of Śakuntalā.’ Photos courtesy of IN Series. Wayne was seated in the middle among the instrumentalists, but on either end of the floored stage were our two leads, our two lovers — Śakuntalā (Ferrara) and Dusyanta (Burrs). Burrs opened the show with her stunning mezzo-soprano/alto voice. Her masterful ability to build to a crescendo with astounding control and fluidity was uniquely memorable. At times, Burrs’ voice blended into the rich sounds of the oboe played by Stephanie Ying, like two sisters being reunited. Often, opera seems to assign female altos small side and/or comedic parts, but Burrs stepped into the role of the leading man and carried the show on steadfast shoulders with a truly unique voice I haven’t heard the like of before, but which I could have listened to all night.   Burrs’ alto-leaning voice allowed enough juxtaposition with Ferrara’s classically operatic soprano to create complex duets. Although Ferrara, as Śakuntalā mainly sang in soprano octaves, she possessed an incredible range, at times becoming an entirely different vocalist and entering strings of deep notes with ease. During Act IV, the show’s climax, Śakuntalā is alone, pregnant, heartbroken, and contemplating life. The music quieted as the drone of the tanpura faded out, and, for the first time, it was just Ferrara singing a cappella. Her voice vibrated with visceral longing, desperation, and agony in an emotional state that was powerfully palpable.  During duets, Ferrara and Burrs both complemented and contrasted one another with conflicting harmonies, never quite allowing the audience the relief of a resolved melody. Much of the show felt unsettling in this way, but it also had me craving more — comfortable in my discomfort. Both women would entertain lengthy, complicated riffs, which, despite being carefully coordinated with mathematical precision, still felt spontaneous. I could listen to those intricate, nuanced notes forever. However, not everyone is like me — happy to just lose themselves in the endless flow of music — so, it could be argued that for a more general audience, those riffs may have been pulled back slightly.  And yet, one of the things I appreciated most about this show was that it didn’t pander to an audience. It is complex, cerebral, and honest. The extended lyrical moments, driven by competing minor chords, created an energy almost on par with that of various religious ceremonies. The show was held in the back room of a larger theater; a small, simplee, immersive space, with no need for big splashy production elements because the music was enough to complete the journey. It was as though we were all privy to something beautifully private and intimate.  Lighting designer Paul Callahan lit the small stage and ensemble to use both light and shadow, creating an almost psychedelic dreamscape. Projected on the screen behind the performers were the words the vocalists were singing. I often found myself torn between reading the incredible poetry or closing my eyes and letting the music envelop me like a dream, watching the colors birthed by the music dance in my mind.  The Song of Śakuntalā ends with a perfect loop. The opening number is heard again in the final act, fulfilling the expressed nature of this opera as a single, perpetuated song. A modern opera founded on numerous classical texts, structures, and instruments, The Song of Śakuntalā is a visceral musical and emotional experience for those who crave complexity. Running Time: Approximately one hour and 45 minutes, with no intermission.  Song of Śakuntalā, presented by IN Series, plays through June 14, 2026, at Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H St NE, Washington, DC, and June 19 to 21, 2026, at Baltimore Theatre Project, 45 W. Preston St, Baltimore, MD. Performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 7:00 PM and Sundays at 2:30 PM. Tickets for DC performances range from $40–$75, with limited numbers of $40 general admission tickets available with code GENERAL40 and $25 tickets for students and artists available with code COMMUNITY25. Purchase DC tickets online here. Tickets for Baltimore performances are $35 general admission, $25 for students. Purchase Baltimore tickets online here.   Song of ŚakuntalāMusic by Timothy NelsonTexts by Sarojini Naidu Rabindranath Tagore, VidyapatiFeaturing Aryssa Leigh Burrs, Teresa Ferrara, Marvin Wayne AllenWith Rajib Karmakar, Nitin Mitta, Emily Grace Konkle, Niccolo Seligmann, Stephanie Ying SEE ALSO:IN Series to present world premiere of ‘Song of Sakuntala’ (news story, May 19, 2026) ...read more read less