Aakash Odedra has an eye for a stage full of drama. Even before he moves a muscle in this haunting and mesmerising retelling of a Persian myth about a captured bird, we have drunk in the crescent moon of ivory candles framing the stage, the scarlet petals casting blood-toned spatters across it, the gnarled branches hanging from the rafters, and Odedra himself, shrouded in white beneath the petals. Soon he is twitching and rippling like a chick about to hatch through its membrane. 

Odedra defines himself as a bird, undulating his torso, spreading the imaginary feathers of his long white skirt. From these small, precise motions emerges a piece of storytelling dance that is mighty and wild, playful and tragic. The choreography is by Sufi Kathak master Rani Khanam, and combines traditional Indian and contemporary dance to paint an emotionally rich tale.

Odedra’s bird spins and leaps joyously among the falling rain of petals; from the elation on his face, you can draw parallels between the ecstatic abandon of a dancer on stage and a bird in the forest. He dances until he is breathless, as if he will never stop. Are the flashes of red in his trousers and the petals an allusion to that other doomed dance of abandon, The Red Shoes?

This state of freedom doesn’t last, and those hanging branches come to form a startling stage effect. From then on, the drama amps up, buoyed by Rushil Ranjan’s score that mixes Indian drumming and choral vocals with filmic swoons and swells. The more the bird’s misery grows, the more intense and passionate its dance. Odedra has said that the story speaks to the life of an artist, and that with each performance he gives part of his soul to the audience. It’s a rare gift to watch him. 

Aakash Odedra: Songs Of The Bulbul, Lyceum Theatre, 10 August, 8pm; 11 August, 3pm, 8pm.