Danseuse Swarnamalya Ganesh reimagines Madhavi from Silappadikaram for the stage
There are certain stories that get inherited so completely — passed down through recitation, performance, and the quiet authority of repetition — that the version we remember calcifies into the only version there ever was, its shadows and complications smoothed away in the retelling. Silappadikaram, one of the five great epics of classical Tamil literature, composed by the poet-prince Ilango Adigal roughly two thousand years ago, carries one such calcification within it. Kannagi's grief, her fury, her eventual deification, has long occupied the entire foreground of public memory, while Madhavi — the epic's accomplished courtesan-danseuse, a woman of considerable artistry in her own right — has been allowed to survive largely as footnote, remembered chiefly through her relationship with Kovalan, reduced, in the popular telling, to something like the "other woman" in someone else's tragedy.
Dancer Swarnamalya Ganesh's Nammai Marandarai Naam Marakkamattom sets out to correct that asymmetry, and does so not by rewriting the epic but by simply redirecting its gaze — toward Madhavi's artistry, her choices, her abandonment, and eventually, her own quiet act of renunciation, restoring to her a full interiority the original telling never quite afforded. First conceptualised in 2005, the production has spent two decades in evolution rather than repetition, its music, virtual sets, costuming and stagecraft continually renewed even as its poetic spine — drawn directly from the Tamil epic — remains constant. We speak to the celebrated dancer and dance historian about the particular labour of revisiting a woman history chose to forget, and what it means to finally remember her on her own terms.
You first conceived Nammai Marandarai Naam Marakkamattom in 2005. What made Madhavi’s story call for a production of its own, and what can audiences expect from this latest staging?
When I read Silappadikaram, Madhavi’s character immediately spoke to me. She has often been portrayed as the other woman, but Ilango Adigal presents her as a woman of exceptional talent and character. She continues her dancing career, navigates abandonment through her education, diplomacy and artistry, and learns to deal with the world around her.
Audiences can expect fantastic music, grand virtual sets, phenomenal costumes and stagecraft. There are English and Tamil voiceovers, so even those who do not speak fluent Tamil can enjoy the show and its meaning. For those who love Tamil language and epics, it is a feast of the original words, music and poetry of Silappadikaram.
The production has evolved over 20 years. How have you approached translating an ancient epic into a large-scale theatrical experience?
When I finished reading Silappadikaram, it immediately called for a larger-than-life production. In 2005, creating a cinematic experience on stage was a challenge. I wanted virtual sets that were alive and moving, bringing Poompuhar to life. Over 20 years of travelling and touring, we have renewed the technology with every staging.
How much of the original epic remains intact in the production, particularly in its music and language?
Everything you see on stage comes from the epic. Every word and every song is from Silappadikaram, apart from two songs from Manimekalai. The music, ragas, pans and instrumentation have been carefully chosen to represent the Sangam era, using instruments such as harp, flute, lute, strings and traditional percussion rather than synthetic instruments.
What do you hope audiences carry with them after encountering Madhavi through your production?
Madhavi does not need a temple. She needs to be spoken about. She needs to be brought into conversations about women’s liberation, about how young women negotiate the world around them, hone their skills and talent, and negotiate family life. That dilemma continues to exist for women across the world. That is what we should remember Madhavi for.