J.Panicker

While my feed is teeming with reactions to the latest Wuthering Heights adaptation, I got to catch a different adaption over the weekend, a rendering of a controversial Indian novel through dance theatre.

Perumal Murugan’s One Part Woman needs no introduction but here’s a primer. It was the book that nearly upended his career as a writer. A Guardian review drew parallels between the novel and Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses. Set in rural Tamil Nadu , the novel unfolds in the days leading up to a festival, twelve years into Ponna and Kali’s childless marriage. Their infertility subjects them to relentless taunts from family and villagers. To counter this, both households urge Ponna to attend the festival of Ardhanarishvara during which on one night, extramarital relations are permitted, particularly for childless married women seeking conception.

Though repulsed, Kali broaches the idea; Ponna replies she would go if he wished it, a response that strains their marriage, leading Kali to resent her.

The following year, her family deceives them: during the festival, Kali is led away by his brother in law, plied with much arrack, while Ponna is taken to the festival grounds by her parents.

Whether she ultimately participates remains ambiguous. Perumal Murugan artfully withholds certainty. The novel closes on Kali’s realisation that Ponna had attended the festival upon returning to his in-laws. He is wild with rage, convinced of betrayal.

For me, it was a disturbing yet compelling read, and I often wondered whether the novel might have ended at the moment Ponna meets her “god” at the festival. It is rendered as a strangely beautiful encounter: amid the chaos of celebration, they share puttu and hold one another’s gaze.

The festival honours Ardhanarishvara, the divine embodiment of male and female. Yet the ritual, as described, seems to confer divine status only upon men for that night.

I was also unsettled, by how Ponna’s body is negotiated by everyone. In the pursuit of a child, she places herself in situations that are life-threatening.

And by the end of the story, we are met with the fact that Kali’s love for Ponna is conditional, extending only so far as his claim over her body. His anger is about his proprietary loss and the threat to his masculinity.

The dance-theatre adaptation was unmistakably in conversation with the novel, tracing Ponna and Kali’s relationship through moments of tenderness, their arduous attempts to placate the gods for a child and the mounting anticipation of the ritual. The clowning street scene really sparkled as a lively prelude to the festival; through wordplay and tonal shifts, echoing the puns of the text. Movement, music and lighting working in tandem, accentuating dancers’ movements, shifts in mood.

While I recognised much of the emotional tension in the novel conveyed through movement, the overall arc did not quite land for me by the end. Certain scenes felt disparate and difficult to follow, particularly when characters shifted between dancers without clear transition. In some scenes, too much seemed to unfold on stage at once.

I was most in awe of the dancers. The choreography was contemporary, yet the rigour and beauty of Odissi were so present in them, in the sculptural lines, the shaping of the torso, the curving of their legs. They were moving reflexively, like their bodies simply knew, like a grammar etched into them.

Curiously, it was the post-show dialogue that illuminated parts of the performance for me. Hearing the directors speak about how they worked together was insightful. They explained how movement sometimes came before music. This helped me see the performance differently. At the same time, I couldn’t help wondering whether a show should need some explanation to fully land.

What really stayed with me was listening to Perumal Murugan. There was something grounding about him. In the Q&A, he spoke about Tamil. His manner was personal and unpretentious. It was simply good to hear him. Sitting in the presence of someone rooted in language and landscape felt so comforting.