Dr. Shyam Prakash M (Shyam Zorba)
Assistant Professor, Theatre Arts, GITAM University, Hyderabad
Many myths and epics, including the Mahabharata, feature marginalized characters both within the story and beyond it. Among these, Dushshala’s perspective remains largely unexplored, prompting questions about her silenced voice and overlooked significance.
Who was Dushshala?
Dushshala is a character in the Mahabharata. She was the only daughter of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari and the sister of the Kauravas. She was married to Jayadratha, the king of Sindhu. When her husband and brothers were killed in the Kurukshetra war, Dushshala’s life turned into one filled with grief. Yet the stories say she stood strong to ensure the continuation of her son and lineage. Remember, the last line repeats itself—”the stories say…”
But there is also a Dushshala whom the stories do not mention. Years later, writer Pritham K. Chakravarthy narrates the story of that woman, Dushshala, through his writing. That story has now been given a theatrical language and brought to the audience. Under the direction of Sutradhar Vinay Varma, dancer and Associate Professor at GITAM University, Hyderabad, Dr. Mythili Anoop brings Dushshala to life on stage.
The stories Dushshala has to tell are nothing less than the entire Mahabharata. Yet they are not the stories we have read or heard before. The Mahabharata becomes complete only when the stories of many others—including that of Dushshala—are brought together.
The Kuru dynasty proudly speaks of its hundred sons, but why does it forget the hundred-and-first child—the girl? Why could none among the hundred brothers, including Duryodhana and Dushasana, say, “We are not a hundred; we are a hundred and one”? To King Dhritarashtra and Queen Gandhari of Hastinapura, Dushshala was never the same as their hundred sons. She was given in marriage to Jayadratha, the king of Sindhu. Although she belonged to the Kaurava family, she was never directly at the center of war or political decisions. Yet when the Kauravas’ actions and pride eventually led to the great war, she was among those who had to endure its consequences.
When her husband Jayadratha and her brothers, the Kauravas, were killed in the Kurukshetra war, Dushshala’s life moved into deep sorrow. Though wars are often narrated as heroic tales of men, Dushshala’s life reveals that the greatest losses of war are borne by women.
Therefore, when the Mahabharata is viewed through a feminist lens, Dushshala’s silent pain and resilience become powerful symbols. Her life embodies the enduring strength of women facing loss and grief, inspiring empathy in the audience.
In the Performance, Dushshala speaks a line that captures the entire play:
“My duty was to become fertile land. Was that not the only duty assigned to the women of the Mahabharata?”
What a powerful political declaration that is.
This play itself is such a political statement. Just as Anand Neelakantan offered a feminist reading of the Ramayana, this presentation of Dushshala is among the most powerful feminine readings of the Mahabharata.
When Dr. Mythili Anoop embodies Dushshala on stage for an hour, her extensive dance background enhances her ability to deeply inhabit the character, allowing feelings and experiences to transcend language and resonate with the audience, highlighting the feminist perspective.
Several elements enhance the Performance’s beauty and bring it to its full realization, becoming integral parts that make the play even more luminous. One such element is the play’s Malayalam lullabies, which beautifully convey Dushshala’s emotional state as a mother. Whether she is running through the garden with her son or nursing him, the melody of these lullabies creates a deeply moving experience. Equally striking are the rhythmic patterns, the graceful steps of Mohiniyattam, the resonant sounds of Panchavadyam, and the haunting strains of Pulluvan Pattu, all of which add to the aesthetic richness of the Performance. Another powerful element is the use of Meypayattu movements inspired by Kalaripayattu; the agility they introduce, even for a moment, enchants the Performance. The fact that the presentation incorporates the cultural traditions of a land adds an additional layer of joy to the experience.
The Performance does not rely on excessive props. On stage, there is only a stool, a lit traditional oil lamp, and a red cloth in the hands of the performer. The use of that cloth deserves special mention. At different moments, it transforms into a child in moments of affection, into blood during menstruation, into the swelling belly of pregnancy, into the wings of a vulture, and into a
weapon in the midst of war. The Performance moves forward, embracing the finest possibilities of minimalism while also understanding the expressive potential of symbolism.
The text has been skillfully translated from the original language into Malayalam by Sherli E. and Dr. Sujatha Panicker. Their translation, which carefully captures the character’s emotional shifts, effectively conveys the character’s ideas. The play is written by Pritham K. Chakravarthy and directed by Sutradhar Vinay Varma. The script has been translated into Malayalam by Sherli E. and Dr. Sujatha Panicker. The music for the performance was executed by Gurudev Maharathi, while lighting and sound were handled by Team Lamakaan, along with Shaik Abdul and Razzaq. The production crew included Sathya Bhagat, Vrishali Singh, Prarthana Singh, and Madhavi Iduri.
As the play ended—encouraging the audience to reread an epic once again—what remained are Dushshala’s words:
She who was marginalized among a hundred sons,
She who had to extend her neck to a marriage she never desired,
She who was destined only to give birth,
She who was never breastfed,
She who was never lulled to sleep with lullabies,
She, for whom the moon, flowers, and butterflies were strangers in childhood,
She who taught her son to respect blood and tears,
She who longed to say that Arjuna was the finest in archery,
She who wished to acknowledge that Bhima excelled in mace combat and Sahadeva in beauty,
When the elder brothers were born in golden pots,
She who was destined to be born in a clay pot,
The only woman in that palace who carried a womb—
Dushshala.
