“Confronting” is the verb Komola Collective use in the programme notes to describe how they hope the audience will interact with The Indigo Giant. It is the kind of play that aims to challenge how you think about everyday objects in your life. Ben Musgrave and Leesa Gazi’s parallel timelines of the 1860s and present-day link the Raj-era exploitation of Bengali farmers by British planters in their hunger to dye new Navy uniforms with our ubiquitous dressed-down uniform and erstwhile symbol of worker's solidarity, the humble blue jean.

Indigo Giant does this by playing to the strengths of the form, the history, the cast, and collective. It tells a tale of trickery and taking by building tension throughout. In a world where our emotions are played and preyed on by shocking images and over the top effects, it does what only theatre can do - putting you in the room with someone embodying a character, and challenging you to deny them your compassion.

Amy Tara pulls that compassion out of you as the two female leads, Kshetromani and Rupa, ably embodying the overall arc from innocent vulnerability to desperation and defiance. Diljohn Singh is conflicted and charismatic as Sadhu the Indigo farmer, a worthy and believable figurehead for a revolution. Thomas King is scarily good at embodying pretty much everything that's wrong with the world, especially how initially likeable both of his characters seem, before the inevitable heel turns.

Chirague Amarchande plays the part of the collaborators - the middle management between the exploited and the exploiters. Perhaps he should have seemed less likeable, but the sliminess of his characters is offset by memories of how the man can move! Sohini Alam and Oliver Weeks’s sound design was transportative enough, but for such a tragic story, there is a lot of dancing, and it definitely helped.

Adi Roy Bhattacharya gave the play structure, guiding the audience through the landscape of this almost forgotten tale, pucklishly probing and provoking. If he was the scaffold, then Subika Anwar-Khan was the glue - she had three distinct characters to play, all at quite different emotional places, and managed to make an impact with each of them, despite relatively few lines. She also had the best of the threads - though Caitlin Abbott’s designs were strong across the board, it must be said.