When bodies speak and words fall silent: Reimagining AK Ramanujan’s folktale in Hyderabad
Some stories slip out easily. Others stay lodged somewhere between memory and voice, waiting — sometimes indefinitely. It’s this tension that forms the emotional core of If Lanterns Could Talk, a movement-led theatrical piece that leans into silence as much as speech. Directed by Osman Ghani, the production reimagines a folktale by AK Ramanujan, threading it through contemporary anxieties around expression, control, and the weight of what remains unsaid. Rooted in the city’s evolving theatre landscape, the play builds a language of gesture, rhythm, and stillness — where the body often says what words cannot. We spoke to the director and cast about shaping this layered, physical performance.
If Lanterns Could Talk: A movement-led folktale on silence, control and the stories we bury
Excerpts:
What drew you to reimagine a folktale by AK Ramanujan, and how did you decide what to retain versus reinterpret?
Osman Ghani: It’s a short story from Ramanujan’s folktale collections, and when I first read it, it really intrigued me. What stayed with me was the idea of stories — how they live within us, how they get suppressed, and how they eventually find a way to come out. I kept the core — the domestic space, the misunderstanding, and the metaphor of stories escaping — but reimagined it in a way that connects more directly with how we experience and hold stories today.
Movement plays a central role — why was physical storytelling essential here?
Osman Ghani: This play is really about what remains unsaid, so it felt right that the body should speak as much as words. Silence, hesitation, memory — these don’t always come out through dialogue. They show up in movement, in stillness, in the way characters exist on stage. Physical storytelling helped us express those emotions more directly and create a slightly dreamlike space.
How did Hyderabad’s theatre scene influence your approach?
Osman Ghani: Hyderabad’s theatre scene is exciting right now — it’s growing and open to new ideas. The audiences here are curious and emotionally connected. That gave me the confidence to not over-explain the play, and to trust that people would feel and understand it in their own way.
The play deals with silences — how do you translate something so internal into performance?
Osman Ghani: Silence is never really empty — it holds a lot inside it. We worked with pauses, stillness, breath, and rhythm. The lantern became like a silent witness, and movement expressed what characters couldn’t say. Light and shadow helped create mood — the idea was to let the audience feel, not explain everything.
How did you approach embodying unspoken emotions through movement?
Faheem(actor): We tried to move beyond words and let the body speak. Drawing from Bharatanatyam and Kalaripayattu, every gesture and stance carried intention. Instead of ‘acting’ emotions, we focused on feeling them physically — how anger sits in the body, how fear contracts it, how joy expands it. It became less about performing and more about experiencing.
How demanding was this process, and did it change your approach as an actor?
Bhargavi Putcha (actor): It was definitely demanding, physically and mentally. This process needed stamina and full presence. It changed how I approach performance — it wasn’t just about lines, but about building a shared physical language. I became more aware of timing, breath, and how much can be expressed without speaking.
How did you balance humour with unease?
Osman Ghani: We didn’t treat humour as separate from discomfort. It comes from the same space — people joke even in difficult situations. The laughter draws the audience in, and then the deeper emotion lands more honestly.
What do you hope audiences take away?
Osman Ghani: I hope they leave thinking about the stories they carry but haven’t voiced. More than answers, I want the play to linger as a question — what happens to the things we keep buried? If people walk out feeling something honestly, the play has done its work.