Kaamiya was written thirty-eight
years ago, and although it won the Sultan Padamsee Award in 1977, this is its
first production in a Hindi translation by Ramgopal Bajaj. When Bajaj (Bajju)
called in up in the US to tell me he was doing it, I was quite surprised. I had
quite given up on it, not in any despairing sort of way, since I have, over the
years, become quite accustomed to the idea – not without some buried embers of
hope! – of the possibility of my some dozen plays gathering dust on the shelves
before becoming a meal for drama-loving silverfish.
Upon
re-reading Kaamiya recently, I felt it
held up rather well after all these years. In light of the above-mentioned fate
of plays, one has to become one’s own best fan and audience. But there are, I
hope, objective reasons for Kaamiya’s
contemporary relevance. Some human issues are temporal and some
eternal. I believe Kaamiya addresses
both.
The
first, though it may seem tangential, is the underpinning of almost all plays
by and about women. It concerns the universal human right, in every enlightened
society, of every individual to live her life on her own terms. This human
right, of the freedom to experience and experiment, so easily and traditionally
granted to the male of the species, is still denied the female. She has been deprived
of the fundamental right to choice in issues relating to her body. Though some things
have changed – there are many more females in professional fields than 38 years
ago – many more remain the same the world over. Apart from the considerable and
overwhelming political/social/economic issues, there is the right to
self-determination in sexual matters. Whether by directly mandating that
women’s clitorises be cut off, as in Africa, or by conditioning them into
thinking their sexuality is somehow more ‘sacred’ than men’s, women’s libidos
have been kept imprisoned over the centuries to perpetuate iron-fisted, hard
won patriarchy. We know from mythology and archeology that a matriarchal system
with its corollary of unambiguous parentage prevailed before it was overthrown.
In a screen adaptation of Kaamiya, I
have addressed this issue.
Second,
in addition to the age-long political/social/religious global climate in which
women’s needs and desires have been repressed, is the eternal necessity for every
human being – male or female --to make the journey to self discovery, a journey
impeded by the norm, by societal/familial/moral injunctions. This is
particularly relevant to India that is so entrenched in double-edged tradition,
and where the roles of women have been so defined for them. Tradition keeps life
in tact but is also keeps a society from growing to its fullest potential. While
many are adapted to tradition, many are trapped in it. I have experienced first
hand the suffering and ‘quiet desperation’ caused by the traditional way. This
is not to say there is less suffering in beating out your own path, like Kamia
does. There is probably more. Suffering is a human condition, but suffering caused
by one’s own choices, if one is self-reflective and committed to be being a
conscious human being, is more purposeful, productive, life and consciousness
enhancing.
It
is important to have the perspective where fulfillment for women equals fulfillment
for men. A female’s lack of fulfillment will affect the latter first. This is a
joint journey, and relationships – whether platonic, passionate, hetero or
homosexual – must be. We are made to relate, for it is only in the crucible of
relationships that love is forged. Kamia’s search for love and home with
someone who will love her for who she is, is every female -- and male’s --
search.
It’s
never too late to hope for a time when young girls and women have the right to
experience life, all of it, without fear and condemnation; when male and female
will walk together, both upright, hand in hand, on our globe, working together
to make it a better and more inhabitable place for everyone without
exception.
~
