In search of the lost women
Histories of theatre often remember movements, institutions, and landmark productions. What they forget are the people in rehearsal rooms and backstage corners the women who acted, wrote, and sustained the stage, yet rarely entered official histories. For the Love of Art: The Lost History of Women in Kerala Theatre, Jayasree Kalathils English translation of Sajitha Madathils acclaimed Malayala Nataka Sthree Charithram, steps into this silence with urgency, restoring women to the centre of Malayalam theatres cultural memory. Widely recognised for its depth and courage, Sajithas original work traces womens presence in Kerala theatre from the late 19th to the early 21st century. These women were not just peripheral participants; they shaped performance traditions, labour practices, and political movements. Yet their contributions remained scattered or overshadowed by dominant male narratives. Jayashrees translation now brings this vital archive to English readers without flattening its texture or intent. Jayashree says she was looking for a book that was significant, genuinely engaging with a social-cultural or political question in relation to Kerala, and was drawn to Sajithas refusal to treat women as marginal. Instead, the book places women firmly at its centre as rightful creators and owners of its cultural capital. Sajitha begins by examining the structures that kept women away from the stage. Rather than repeating the familiar narrative of male actors performing female roles, she probes deeper anxieties around caste, morality, and respectability that rendered womens public performance suspect. The argument is incisive without being academic, and Jayashree preserves this clarity, allowing complex ideas to unfold with narrative ease. The book turns to the first women who entered the theatre despite stigma, surveillance, and exploitation. Sajitha writes about them not as romanticised pioneers but as workers negotiating family resistance and low wages to remain connected to their art. Among the most compelling figures is Palluruthy Lakshmi, The Anarkali of the Stage. Her hunger for performance was elemental. Sir, I cant live without singing Its like how we need water or air, she tells a policeman in a dramatised retelling, explaining why she left home. Even as tuberculosis confined her to bed, Lakshmi insisted on being buried in her stage costume a final gesture that captures the intensity of womens artistic labour in a society that offered them little security. But not all stories culminate in recognition. Sajitha is equally attentive to the women forced to leave the stage. One retired actor reflects: I cant tell you how it suffocates me, not being able to be on stage. And when I see drama troupe vehicles passing by... my heart breaks. This reveals the quiet cost of a system that treated womens artistic ambition as expendable. A significant section focuses on political theatre. The writer traces how Left cultural movements, particularly Kerala Peoples Arts Club (KPAC), expanded opportunities for performers like KPAC Lalitha, KPAC Sulochana, Nilambur Ayisha, and Adoor Pankajam. Their work shaped Malayalam theatres evolution, with figures like KPAC Lalitha carrying this legacy into cinema. Reflecting on the broader conditions of their practice, Sajitha writes: The experiences of these women show that they have made every effort to understand and apply the grammar of a medium they were not familiar with. Several women described theatre as consuming, like an ember smouldering slowly, yet impossible to abandon. The book concludes by charting how women gradually carved out institutional spaces theatre collectives and feminist groups as an ongoing, unfinished journey. Sajitha positions these women as the thinkers and innovators who formed the spine of Malayalam theatre. Jayashrees translation amplifies this clarity while retaining the earthy, textured voice of the original. For readers of gender studies, cultural history, or powerful nonfiction, For the Love of Art is indispensable. It asks us to look again at the stage this time with attention to the women who shaped it against all odds. The book is available on Amazon for `499 Theirchest hurtswhen they cant perform What first pushed you to write this book? I wrote this book in 2010. However, its roots go back to my earliest years in theatre. I began my long tryst with theatre in 1988, with the street plays of the Kerala Sasthra Sahithya Parishad. The discussions on gender between 1986 and 89 influenced me deeply, and they eventually took me to Kolkata to study drama. I was already an activist and a feminist by then. When I returned to Kerala and started reading theatre history, I realised there was nothing on women. That silence pushed me. I had studied theatre for my MPhil and worked on a project for the Kerala Sangeet Natak Akademi, and slowly, through research and interviews, the book began to take shape. When written records were scarce, how did you remain truthful to their stories? Each chapter demanded its own method. I had to read between the lines of existing texts, dig deeper, listen to memories, conduct interviews, and run surveys. I knew I couldnt rely on the usual method of writing theatre history, as those had ignored women in the first place. History keeps on growing. So, I added new findings to the second edition. While researching, was there a story or memory that stayed with you? There are so many. I vividly remember my conversations with actor M K Kamalam. She acted in just one film and chose to return to the theatre right after. Another is of an actress whose name I cant reveal because shes still living. She had to stop acting after marriage, and only returned to the stage at 60. She told me she would watch when vehicles of theatre troupes drive past her home in Kozhikode and weep, saying,My chest physically hurts that I cant perform.You can understand a whole life in that one line. Theres also my visit to KPAC Leela in 1991 or 92. Someone pointed me to what they said was her home. She opened the door but refused to acknowledge that she was KPAC Leela at all. I had to keep insisting, and only then did she finally speak so beautifully. But that denial, that refusal of her own artistic identity, broke my heart. I still think of Velukkutty Aashan, known for playing Vasavadatta at a time when men performed for women. His style shaped how women were expected to act. When he fell ill, and they needed someone for a fundraiser, they convinced Mavelikkara Ponnamma to perform. She told me,I had to become Velukkutty first, then Vasavadatta.What you can see is that men had determined how female characters should be played, even by women. When piecing together the lives of these women, what responsibility did you feel? It was a strong one. Ive always been a feminist, and whenever I asked male theatre artists about women, they would brush it off Oh, women havent done much. They were just there for money. Of course, money mattered as it does for anyone but when you talk to these women, you know thats not what kept them there. Thats why theirchest physically hurtswhen they cant perform. What was the most challenging part of writing a book of this scale, and what kept you going? Structuring it. Everything was scattered stories, interviews, fragments. Organising them into meaningful chapters felt overwhelming. The more I researched, the more the material grew. Eventually, I decided to structure the book by themes and periods so readers could follow it without getting lost. Convincing publishers and even people around me that such a book was necessary was another battle. But here we are. How do you see womens presence in Malayalam theatre today compared to the period you documented? I see a big change. More young women are studying theatre now and entering it simply out of passion. Theyre brave, hardworking and willing to work as a team. As someone inside the field, I have real faith in the coming generation. Is it the exact scale of change we once hoped for? Maybe not. But the change is definitely there. What do you hope English readers take away from this translation People in Kerala may know these women, but outside the state, almost no one is aware of their contribution to theatre. Theyre rarely spoken about, unlike the women artists from the Northern belt. I still remember the National School of Dramas Poorva festival back in 2003. There were mentions of women even from Tamil Nadu, but not Kerala. I hope Jayasrees English translation carries these stories further, to readers whove never encountered this lineage before. Even Anuradha Kapur said much of it was new to her, and Revathy described it as a powerful testament to womens courage and tenacity in theatre. Above all, I want readers to know these women were here working, shaping, and leaving their mark on theatre history.
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