Too Much Of A Coincidence

For four weeks in November-December last year, I attended a course run by Global Voices Theatre company. The objective of the course was to regain control of historical narratives. It was run by the talented Haitian-American playwright France-luce Benson. We read her plays and those by other playwrights who brought fresh, fearless sensibilities, unlike anything I’ve seen before.

By week three I’d begun thinking of my own play and I returned, once again to the story of my maternal grandmother Ramalakshmi. Although it was a personal narrative, her story of tragically premature death at 27 and subsequent erasure from family annals is one which has wider societal echoes. It’s the one I really wanted to tell.

One morning about 2 weeks ago, when I was out jogging, the opening scene came to me fully formed. It sees a 47-year old Abhirami engaging with her 27-year old grandmother. It is the first time the two have met and they are figuring out the power dynamics - one is older and alive while the other is higher in hierarchy but long dead. Some of Ramalakshmi’s lines cracked me up.

At one point in my jog, I stopped to seek her permission to let me imagine her. With few people left to remember her alive, I sought her sanction to visualise her as I would. She came across as feisty and opinionated, far from the anodyne ancestor that we often imagine our grandparents and great-grandparents to be. I asked for her guidance in writing the play.

On the last day of the course, the draft had its first outing. A Chilean playwright and a playwright from Hong Kong read the parts. The feedback was excellent and the probing questions really useful for further development.

Barely a week later, my sister Bhavani sent me a photo. And in it is a very young Ramalakshmi who sits with her hands wrapped around her knees, her eyes downcast and her smile tentative. For long, I’d assumed there was just one photo of her. And just like that, another one lands in my hands within days of invoking her presence. Only the most determined would think that it’s a coincidence. It is as if the 27-year old who would have been 100 last year is finding her voice and wants me to tell her story.