Walking into The Madras Literary Society on a balmy Saturday morning, I am met with a warm, intimate gathering that reminds me of family get-togethers in my living room and lazy afternoons spent listening to tales spun by my grandmother, aunts and sisters.
Above us, pigeons flap their wings in approval of the stories being read out by six women in white. They stand on stage around the mic, reading with poise and playful twinkles in their eyes. They are reading out monologues, written by women from around the world, about tempestuous romances, marital unhappiness and old age. But, the atmosphere here isn’t grim. The characters are sassy, so are the women enacting them. For instance, take the case of 92-year-old Shirley Wrinkle who loves to dance and has pink shoes attached to her walker, enacted by a chirpy NS Yamuna, who delivers the lines in a trembling, squeaky voice.
Women are bonding over stories at the Women on Women Monologues, organised by The Madras Literary Society, selected from a collection of dramatic writings by women, edited by Tori Haring-Smith. You have a black woman on a plantation who bakes a lethal apple pie, a young girl who refuses to shave her legs for her boyfriend and a woman ignored by her husband.
After the session, we break for tea and unwind. Yamuna, the director of the performance, can be overheard counting how many swear words were originally in the text. They tell me they had to edit out a few so that the audience didn’t feel uncomfortable. And how sad she was to not have even a single one in her Shirley piece. “What a pity,” the others laugh, pulling her leg, while Yamuna smiles impishly. “Don’t ask why we chose these pieces. They are such lovely pieces about women and their experiences. Instead of the dreary stuff, I am looking for humour. And, these monologues speak of the depths of human deprivation,” she says.
The stories are universal and the actors can vouch for that. Geetha Lakshman, an actor, says these are women they could all relate to. Some of them had performed the same set of monologues eight years ago. “But, so much has happened in my life over the eight years, that this time I selected two different pieces because I could connect to them better as a mother of a two-year-old,” says Nikhila Kesavan, another actor. “And, Yamuna ending the performance with the Shirley Wrinkle piece always makes great sense because she is the sum total of all our experiences. The character has seen it all — from losing her virginity to getting married six times,” adds Nikhila.
Yamuna says she was gifted this book of monologues by her dear friend and eminent playwright Girish Karnad. “‘I kept in on my bookshelf for a year or two. I started reading it one fine day; it opened my eyes. Here, were women talking about deep experiences that I could relate to. The themes were so universal. Take the black woman’s story. You could go to any of the plantations here, and it would be the same.”
Armchair theatre is the word Yamuna has come up with for an intimate performance like this. “I think monologue is too stale a word. But, it is still theatre. It felt like a performance, and in a way, more challenging than a proscenium production because we do not have the aid of music or sets. All the emotions need to be conveyed through the voice.”
Humour makes these monologues fun and interesting; “If you can laugh at it, then you know the exact pain of it,” says Yamuna. “We have great examples in history. One of them is Charlie Chaplin. Humour does not reduce the pathos. It heightens it.”
She says she is looking for more of Asian women’s writing, but she finds the humour lacking in them. “We are still too close to the pain. We’ve got to distance ourselves a bit. Then, we can laugh about it; if you are right up against it, you can’t.”
When I sit here, with these women, young and old, I feel a sense of solidarity, companionship and sisterhood. The group agrees that the tradition ought to be repeated and they need to celebrate this session’s success with a party at Yamuna’s house over glasses of her famously delicious tomato juice.
The sessions can be therapeutic for many, who have had similar experiences. Shaan Katari, one of the performers, recalls how women were nodding vehemently when she enacted her character lamenting about how her husband does not acknowledge her when he returns home from office. “And, let the men also come and join us and bring their stories to the table. It is not like we are perfect,” says Yamuna, with her characteristic mischievous smile.
