A princess reborn and a princess redeemed

By Dilshan Boange

The second Colombo International Theatre Festival (CIFT) which saw a host of diverse performances came alive on the boards of the auditorium of the British School in Colombo presented theatregoers a remarkable evening of performance on April 1 in the form of two solo acts conceptualised on rereading two prominent female characters from two of India’s greatest epics.

The performances

The performances were by two young ladies who were part of the student contingent from the Flame School of Performing Arts.

Meenakshi

Their performances were works which they had developed as part of their drama and theatre studies as final year students. The solo acts were a critical review or reappraisal of how the characters Draupadi in the Mahabharata and Shupranakha in the Ramayana have been portrayed.

The performances were about giving voice to two women whose very being had been written entirely by the male hand of history.

The voices that were theatrically alive that evening speaking to the viewers sitting in the gentle darkness of the auditorium was a new way of rendering the past, made the official record called history.

It was in a way to give the female individuals their worth as personae that have a right to be heard.

The darkness lifted as the stage came unveiled to sight under a red light washing to the width and breadth of the performance space, washing over the regally seated female figure garbed in white.

And then the atmosphere became ripe with anticipation as the redness lessened and the female figure spoke.

Her opening words were that the war that erupted between the Kauravas and the Pandavas as narrated in the Mahabharata “had to happen”.

Thus the voice of Draupadi the wife to the five Pandava princes of the greatest Indian epic was brought to life by Devika Kamath whose depth and firmness of tone ‘set the stage’ for a statement to be made. A statement to be heard. To be listened to.

A princess reborn

The monologue opened with a justification to the war that engulfed countless Kshatriyas in a horrendously bloody war as one that could not be averted and that she Draupadi, could not be held to blame for the lives that were lost and the blood that drenched the earth. It appeared to me a very assertive call for self vindication from whatever blame that had been cast on her in the Indian epic. It was an expose of sorts of the victimisation that Draupadi had been subjected to by the patriarchal status quo. The various incidents that were cited and critically discussed as per the subjective outlook of a woman showed that there was a fine line that Devika trod in her creating the voice of a Draupadi ‘reborn’ to tell her story.

The Draupadi brought to life by Devika wasn’t meant to be a woman on a ‘feminist rant’. She wasn’t one to denounce the entire system of the patriarchal order and call for a complete overhauling of the system. There was no detectable clear and unequivocal condemnation of the entire male kind as the root of all destruction of humankind. No, the Draupadi that came to life to tell her story although she had a clear and unapologetic surge of indignation coming out of her on valid reasoning that was based on the textual source was meant to be relooked at in terms of how Draupadi was made to suffer much injustice. Injustices she voiced as a woman as she felt they were done upon her, or were valid in being done upon her, because of her gender.

The plea of a princess

On that line of assertions was she making a case for all womankind and the common oppressions that women face in the face of patriarchy? No, Draupadi didn’t purport to be a voice for universal female emancipation. She maintained that her appeal was for recognition, to be treated with the dignity due to her as Draupadi –a Royal princess. The indicated stance was on that footing of being a figure who would uphold the rightness of the hierarchical order of society. The fact that she ends her monologue with the same words she started with –“The war in Kurushetra had to happen” was a reassertion of how the course of providence is not to be tampered with. The regal bearing of a Kshastriya princess was visible throughout the act, and thus the characterisation that was seen brought to life on stage must be noted for these attributes to the credit of Devika.

Draupadi

One of the most hard hitting parts of how a young nubile woman’s own desires in that most life defining stage of choosing a partner in marriage was denied to Draupadi even within the circuit of conservatism and traditionalism was delivered with emphatic expression by Devika. Although Draupadi’s father holds a ‘Swayamver’, a contest to show skills and talents by potential suitors to claim the young lady’s hand in marriage, the norms are that the suitor is finally chosen from the contestants as per paternal discretion and not by the young lady for whom the men ‘parade’ their prowess.

To the best of my knowledge a ‘Swayamver’ does not contain within its ‘institutionalism’ a right of the lady to be given in marriage to choose her suitor at her sole discretion. The men who participate have an equal right and an equal opportunity to contest to win her hand; and the criterion that decides who becomes the suitor is that the most skilled, the winner, claims the ‘prize’ –the princess, to wed.

Partner choice

Draupadi as depicted by Devika seemed to be under the impression that she would have the sole right to choose her future husband at the ‘Swayamver’. Was that a misreading of the tradition? Or was it the honest feeling of what ought to be from a young woman’s point of view? I feel it is more the case of the latter, since Draupadi who was being given the right to be heard that evening was giving voice to her own desires and dreams.

It is interesting to note that if one may claim the solo act of Draupadi was a feminist critique of the Indian patriarchal system that it must be detected how Draupadi does not reject the notion of marriage or the tradition of an arranged marriage. It was not a denouncement of the whole system that was the cause of her displeasure but the fact that a margin or space for her own choosing from among the choices was not to be. It was not a complete rejection of the tradition but a critique of its dire rigidity. In this sense Devika didn’t venture into anything that would be sacrilegious, it must be noted, to her credit.

The universality of the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law getting into domestic power struggles when living under the same roof is a theme that came out strongly in the performance. Draupadi’s resentment of her mother-in-law and her ironclad hold on her five sons who never even think to question their mother’s word shows the frustration and insecurity that any wife whose husband could be directed by maternal command would be tormented by. A valid point of argument one may say from the perspective of a woman who had to contend with the duty of being a wife to not just one but five husbands!

The conjugal burden

On the role of Draupadi’s conjugal position as wife to five men there was a high degree of venomous outcry by the character brought to life by Devika. Draupadi as a woman was objectified in being made a common wife. The discourse was clear on that contention. Being wife to five virile warriors surely has to be a colossal task that would have its moments of irritation to even the most forbearing of women.

One of the main woes that Draupadi’s character speaks of is that the fulfilment of sensual needs of the five husbands took a severely exhausting toll on her own physical being, and that her ‘conjugal duty’ was never subservient to her claimed right to decide over her body, as to whom and when access could be granted.

Was the character of Draupadi brought to life by Devika speaking of a woman who felt she was a sex slave? There seemed a very potent tone of such an assertion that may have had the danger of veering into a statement of possible blasphemy in the perceptions of an ultra conservative viewership who would view the scenarios and status quos depicted in the Mahabharata as sacred and beyond critical review. This aspect discussed, in my opinion, may have the highest potential for controversy in this work.

‘Civilised marriages’

What came out as another undeniably hard hitting argument on the part of the indignant Draupadi was how her status as a ‘shared wife’ to not two or even three, but five men is posited to be scrutinised for its validity in the conventions of ‘civilisation’. Polygamy was never alien to eastern cultures though the West frowned upon it as being not within the norms of what is classifiable as ‘civilised’. Similarly polyandry was an accepted conjugal arrangement in the East. But going by what was expostulated by the character of Draupadi, polygamy was stated as acceptable but the concept of a shared wife between brothers was not ‘civilised’. The practice of a common wife between men, a polyandrous marriage, could only exist amongst the uncivilised was what was declared.

Did Vedic society only approve of polygamy and frown on polyandry? I for one am not an authority to provide an answer to this question which kindled much curiosity in me as I wondered what could be the reason for the denouncement of the very ‘standing’ of the conjugal arrangement Draupadi was put in, which is a matter that is quite different to lamenting of the burdens that are piled on her in being wife to five men. Did Vedic society in that sense not approve of polyandry that would unduly burden a woman’s bodily condition?

Devika’s Draupadi even said that she was made to satisfy her five husbands one after the other irrespective of her own health conditions. She even had to perform her conjugal duties despite debility during menstrual bleeding. And therefore could the discourse made by the Draupadi characterised by Devika hint about a Vedic perception about marriage that took to account sensitivities of the woman and her bodily conditions? Surely these are interesting points to ponder on. But admittedly best left to be answered by the experts.

The stage set

The stage props were sparse and didn’t play on an elaborate set. Draupadi’s space was laid out as her central ground to take her stand. Five poles stuck on clay vase like pots surrounded Draupadi which were of course phallic symbols to represent her five husbands; and the ‘limits’ possibly of her space to define herself? There was one such phallic symbol that was placed at an outer distance as the odd one out. It became the symbol to show Karna, the charioteer’s son whom Draupadi pined for to be wife to but was denied due to the strictness of the system she was under.

Draupadi herself was garbed in a white sari that symbolised a Brahmin lady of tradition. A Hindi song was played over the sound system at a certain point in the performance. Due to the language barrier, what it was about and how it worked in the narrative I do not know. And I will not try to pretentiously conjecture on that aspect either.

The ‘thrusts’ of the act

As a solo performance that had a significant amount of politics in respect of reframing the moral soundness of the position Draupadi was put into the theme and content of the work had in it an inherent allure which any audience which knows at least the basic theme of the Mahabharata would find interesting. This interest of course may not necessarily be through touching audience pulses that would be enchanting to the ear. The ripeness for contention that could ‘tread on nerves’ is also a limb that plays as a force that compels the attention of the audience.

Draupadi as per the Mahabharata is a feminine and possibly docile character I will assume. But Devika’s Draupadi in that sense was a woman reborn. The tone and bearing that the young actress showed on stage made a statement to that effect. There was a certain staidness in her demeanour that was undeniably coupled with a latent indignation that was sensible at the outset. If that was what Devika intended to project through her characterisation then she was successful in her endeavour. There was an undeniable assertiveness of a woman who was to speak her mind unafraid; but yet hadn’t completely lost her ability to recall and relive her girlishness. Devika’s acting must be noted for projecting those attributes of the Draupadi she gave life to.

Draupadi justified

The tone of voice, the expressiveness of gesticulations and movement, the overall persona that occupied the stage did say that the Devika’s Draupadi had to a great a certain sense of masculinity that subtly commanded the inner being and purpose. Whatever floweriness and ‘rose petal softness’ that was seen in that character was more the ‘constructed’ layer of the persona than the indignant unapologetic princess whose voice was not so much one of rebellion but of a clear battle cry. Had Devika appropriated the character of Draupadi and rendered according to her subjective interpretation to do her justice? It is possible that that could have been her artistic vision.

A vision which also gained life on the boards convincingly.

Shupranakha takes the stage

The second solo act that was performed had a more distinct relevance to Sri Lankan cultural perceptions due to the source from which it was developed –the Ramayana. The beloved sister of the mighty king Ravana is known by several names. In Sinhala she is called ‘Supurnika’ in the South Indian tradition of the story she is called ‘Meenakshi’ and in the Valmiki Ramayana which is deemed to be the standard authoritative text she is called ‘Shupranakha’.

The Ramayana can be construed in many ways for the manifold perspectives in which it is seen by people from both sides of the Palk Strait. The Ramayana holds not just a record of geopolitics but a sacred narrative, a holy text for Hindus who find in it much inspiration as well as religious doctrines.

But what the talented young Swati Simha brought to life on stage to the audience seated in the gentle darkness was a bold artistic statement that critiqued the established discourse of the Valmiki Ramayana to redeem the dignity a woman wronged.

The performance opened with an English translation of a Hindi poem being read to the audience over the sound system. The words spoke disparagingly of Shupranakha and demonised her while Prince Rama was glorified as per the discourse of the Ramayana of the sage Valmiki. The verse is then played over the sound system as a song and the character of Shupranakha enters the stage dancing to it. What could that movement to the rhythm of a song that does not dignify Shupranakha symbolise? It may be rendered as a symbolic opening observing total deference to the established discourse, the unchallenged status quo. She dances to the ‘tune’ history had set for her.

Harmony breaks

A complete devastation of the ‘harmony’ of song and dance then occurs as the first oral element enters the narrative –a piercing scream. Shupranakha holds her hands before her nose. The heartless act of her defacement, her mutilation at the hands of Prince Lakshman has happened.

That is how the Ramayana makes her memorable. The ‘Rakshasi’ whose nose was cut off by a virtuous man. But what follows that very instant is something surprising. No there is no lamentation. History it seems has not weighed down on this Shupranakha whose next oral output is a laugh. She laughs off what history has accorded her. This juxtaposition of a scream and a laugh that happens in quick succession, within seconds, is a powerful symbolic depiction of how history is divorced from the present on the stage through the Shupranakha who speaks unyielding to the textual directive of the Ramayana. And with no uncertain terms the character on stage asserts that history had done her no favour, no justice and denounces its credibility as being after all, “his-story”. The narrative written by the hand of a man.

‘Meenakshi’ gains presence

With expressive eyes and feminine facial nuances the character begins her verbal discourse from the point of where identities find their most basic footing –a name. Shupranakha when translated of its etymological composite means one with ‘long fingernails’. She contests the validity of this assertion in the Ramayana, this christening given her by the ancient Indian text. Would parents name their children with such unflattering names she asks the audience, and explains how her name given at birth, the chief source to this claim being as I believe the Ramayana authored by Kamban, was Meenakshi, which translates as ‘fish like eyes’. This hint at how the two versions of the Ramayana authored by Valmiki and Kamban have notable discrepancies and disagreements about the character of King Ravana’s sister indicate that the texts carry a notable set of politics which perhaps relates to the North-South clash which has been going on since time immemorial in the subcontinent.

The Ramayana’s chief female character is Sita Devi, the wife of Prince Rama. But the war that erupted between the forces of Prince Rama and King Ravana has at its root the matter of a vendetta which goes very underplayed in the general synopsis of the Ramayana even as per Sri Lankan conceptions, which is nothing other than the mutilation of Meenakshi which causes her mighty brother to avenge the insult done to his sister by abducting the wife of the offender. How do we then ‘read’ Meenakshi today?

Meenakshi unfolds

The unfolding of the character of Meenakshi as performed by Swati showed a female who was explained in ways that were both rooted in the textual source of the Ramayana as well as interpreted somewhat subjectively on the basis of female sensibilities perfectly acceptable to present society. The state of Meenakshi as a widow, whose husband tried to challenge the King of Lanka and then paid for his foolishness with his life, is spoken by Swati’s Meenakshi as a matter that is not reviled by a widow but more as an inevitability to which the blame would be on the obvious transgressor. Meenakshi’s decision to go into a form of voluntary seclusion in South India which was ruled by her brother, to recover from the pain of losing her husband shows a woman who was in search of solitude to heal within. It also created the pathway to ideological confrontations as revealed latterly.

The admiration of her brother Ravana and his mightiness and how she was as a woman allowed greater status in their society showed Swati’s Meenakshi to be a woman of much fraternal loyalties and affection as well as being insightful as to how their society differed from that of the patriarchal Hindu society of Prince Rama. A great deal of insight is thus offered by the discourse performed on stage of what differences of ideologies of the two civilisation would have existed based on the matter of the status of females in their respective social hierarchies.

An unacceptable boldness

Her boldness in interacting with Princes Rama and his younger brother Lakshman were seen to be improper and perhaps even somewhat impudent by Lakshman indicates Swati’s Meenakshi. She reveals that she tried to, through her interactions with Sita, instil in the latter some sense of independent thinking, some critical reasoning.

Lakshman becomes angered over her intervention to spur some critical thinking in Sita, says the solo performer, and that can be interpreted as an attempt by Meenakshi, a woman, to be ‘political’ in that instance. She believed she was helping Sita find some sensibility to her thinking. This was of course not acceptable to the rigid patriarchal Aryan outlook which she sought to upset. And for that she paid a severe price. The humiliation of her nose being cut off by Lakshman.

The Valmiki Ramayana’s Shupranakha, is a hideous she-demon who falls in love with Prince Rama who is the epitome of masculine beauty, and then tries to attack the beautiful Sita whom she envies for the fortune of being the wife of the man whom she covets. Interestingly Swati’s Meenakshi plays a line that doesn’t negate that entire story outline. Swati’s Meenakshi admits that she was hopelessly in love with Prince Rama, yet didn’t attack Sita but sought to befriend her. An act in search of propinquity to the one you pine for, one may say. Swati’s Meenakshi describes her first moment of beholding the sight of Prince Rama. And it must be noted at no point does she demean the persona deemed to be by Hindu belief a divine incarnation.

Rama adored

The glow of his skin and sinewy limbs all speak of rapture by a woman mesmerised to a figure who epitomises refined masculine beauty. Enamoured with Prince Rama the description was by a woman who was madly in love. By my reasoning the level of ‘femininity’ of a female can be gauged, assessed on the one hand by the way she reveals or explains the feeling of her experience of falling in love with a man. It is that unhidden sincerity of how she feels within of being in love that bespeaks a deep and warm femininity.

The Meenakshi brought to life by Swati had a sentimental femininity that reached its most mellow point in describing what she felt for Rama. That point of the narrative in my opinion is the winning ticket that speaks to the sentimentalities of an audience to bring empathy on to her side. A very intelligently and tactfully crafted portrayal of a woman wronged by history now seeking redemption, one may note.

Restoring femininity

The Meenakshi brought to life by Swati also says that Prince Rama enjoyed her company and her personality. Thereby one may infer that this ‘rereading’ of Meenakshi was to restore her femininity as both within and outwardly. In the performance by Swati, Meenakshi had been a woman who was desirable to Prince Rama in at least a platonic way.

The masculine beauty of Prince Rama is in no way contested while the femininely appealing qualities of Meenakshi are also accorded her. A moderate view had been at work in the crafting of this character and the contextualisation needed to drive forth the objective of Swati’s Meenakshi.

Amongst the critically challenged notions as per the established discourses on what constitute good and evil, Swati’s Meenakshi brings two very interesting topics to the stage. One is what is pure as against impure? Sita is the symbol of purity and virtue while Shupranakha would be an embodiment of impureness. Another is the theme of light and darkness. Sita would be light or illumination while Shupranakha would be darkness. Positivity versus negativity one may say.

A simile for pureness

Swati’s Meenakshi brings the following arguments on the boards. Sita’s purity is likened to the water that may be got from a melting iceberg. Pure and devoid of any sediment. A pureness that would lack any taste. Possessing no ‘character’ of its own.

It is the sediment argues the Meenakshi on stage that creates tastes in the water; that gives it character. Creating flavours as sourness, bitterness and also sweetness one may say. Was she in a way giving as a subtext, between the lines spoken, an equation for the audience to work on? That the lack of any character renders one dull? Pureness, in its absoluteness equals dullness?

Swati’s Meenakshi certainly showed in unflattering mimicry the responses Sita gave her when she asked her things such as what she thinks of her position as a wife. Puppet like robotic gestures and monotonously intoned answers that quote lines from the Vedic scriptures of what the wife would be in relation to the husband; that is what she portrays as the sensibility of Sita. What can Prince Rama find beguiling in such a woman with no intelligence of her own? That question weighs heavily on Meenakshi’s mind and torments her.

What is purity?

What then is ‘purity’ as Swati’s Meenakshi sees it? Though she doesn’t venture to give frameworks of her own to establish a meaning for it conceptually, with very emotive expression Swati’s Meenakshi declares that what she felt for Rama was pure. It was a love that was true and sincere, and undiluted.

That she claims to be the pureness that was in her. Her love for Rama. The idea of loving Rama as a truth of emotions could be a form of purity. Her love for him was fulsome and not diluted with doubt. A pureness by her reasoning which sadly for her, didn’t merit the recognition of being the purity that is valued as ‘virtue’ in the annals of history.

What is ‘light’? Is it merely the absence of darkness? This is the other matter Swati’s Meenakshi puts forward in her discourse. If light is merely the absence of darkness then one may contend that light is the creation while darkness is what exists in the world. Is darkness then possibly interpretable as infinite and eternal? These contentions brought out by Swati’s Meenakshi showed her to be one who didn’t believe in the black and white binary opposition theorems. She was asserting that she was a woman with a mind of her own.

Aspects of visage and acting

Some of the notable aspects of the appearance of the character were that her dress was notably of a Dravidian motif. Swati was very dynamic in her switch of pulse to the different moods of her character of Meenakshi; effortlessly making transitions that were mercurial yet quick at regaining solidity.

Her tones and facial expressions brought out a great depth of the character portrayed. A lithely spark was visible in her acting and Swati was more comfortable with the stage space being open to show she isn’t bound to its demarcated spaces alone; the example being how she used the steps to the stage to sit on. The character of Draupadi portrayed by Devika on the other hand appeared in her movements to be one who is more directed and framed to a demarcated space. The manner in which stage space is used could reflect the nature of the two characters as women. Draupadi is more constrained in her world. Meenakshi is a more free spirited soul.

A woman redeemed

The performance ends with an element that works with an overt dual play in the representations it makes. A verse, a poem in rhyming couplets is recited by Swati’s Meenakshi. The lyrical, or word content speak of devotion to Rama. “Rama is right Rama is our guiding light” she says. The words are in complete conformity with the established discourse and offers submission to the divine incarnation that is Rama. The tone however denoted sarcasm and was complemented with nuanced facial expressions. That element of the verse recited with hands together in obeisance showed innovation which ‘word wise’ contained what is orthodox –the praise of Rama, while giving its ‘casing’, the ‘tone’, the means to project what is within the woman who was wronged. The woman regaining herself and her redemption from history. Setting the stage for the final moment Swati’s Meenakshi comes forward to sit on the steps to the stage, and says that despite the injustice history has done to her, despite the distortions, that evening, she had won the argument.

And the smile of complacence she bears speaks of her inner satisfaction. A satisfaction that is true, free of dilutions, or doubts.