In kathakali, no character is purely evil – each deserves dignity, says Sadanam Harikumar

The multi-talented Sadanam K Harikumar is oddly unsung.

Perhaps that is because performs in so many different styles. Harikumar is a dancer who performs in both the kathakali and bharatanatyam styles, a singer in kathakali and Carnatic traditions, a designer of dance costumes, a sculptor, painter, a percussionist who plays the chenda and also a playwright.

While many younger artists have won state and national awards, Harikumar, 68, has failed to attract much official recognition. Barring the Kerala Sangeeta Natak Akademi award, he has none worthy of display on his mantlepiece.

Some people would think that practising so many different forms would result in only a superficial grasp of each. But Harikumar does not believe this is true.

“Perhaps I am not a master of one, but I am a servant of many, and that service itself is a kind of mastery,” he said.

Harikumar elaborated, “Kathakali gave me the grammar of performance, Carnatic music gave me melody, sculpture gave me form, and playwriting gave me narrative. I don’t separate them – they are all currents of the same energy. I cannot claim to be any one of them, I just do them.”

On July 18, the National Centre for the Performing Arts in Mumbai will stage Shoorpanakhankam, a kathakali play Harikumar has written and directed. He will perform in it too. This is only the second time the production is being staged outside Kerala.

Harikumar was born into an artistic family in 1958 in the serene Peroor village in Palakkad district of Kerala and was encouraged to learn kathakali by his father.

Though his artistic interests diversified over the years, kathakali has always been his calling card. Not many can claim to have written and directed 24 unique, unusual kathakali plays and staged them. He has danced in some of them and sung in some others.

In this interview, Harikumar speaks about his career and his work.

Edited excerpts:

At what point did you realise that kathakali was your life’s calling?
During my kathakali diploma course which I completed while in Std IX and later postgraduate studies, I realised that kathakali was my true passion. My mother extracted a promise from me that I would complete a master’s degree in another subject. Before that I graduated in zoology only to realise that the subject is certainly not to my liking

I applied for a scholarship from the central government cultural department, and despite the tough competition and in spite of being a zoology graduate, I was ranked first (1980-’81) by the jury.

Padma Shri Keezhpadam Kumaran Nair, Sadanam Balakrishnan and Sadanam Ramankutty were my foremost gurus. The doctorate came after my thesis on Kathakali Studies submitted to Calicut University in 2010.

You also trained in Carnatic music. How did that come about?
My sister and mother sang Carnatic music, and I had a natural passion for it. I used to sing kritis [songs] composed by Thyagaraja all by myself. I even won a couple of prizes. So, then, I decided to train seriously under CS Krishna Iyer and Sebastian Joseph, a great scholar and singer.

Kathakali is not just visual; it is deeply musical. Understanding Carnatic traditions allowed me to compose with sensitivity, blending rhythm and melody into the dramatic structure of kathakali. I have also created “kirtanas” in Malayalam too. That integration makes the performance richer.

Your plays often reinterpret mythology in unusual ways. Why?
I don’t see any character in Mahabharata or Ramayana as purely bad. Each is justified from their own perspective. The ultimate aim of art should be sublimation. In my first play Sapamochanam which I wrote in 1989 about Urvashi, a courtesan, and Arjuna, I turned her curse into a blessing, ending with a lullaby – something new in kathakali.

Similarly, I have portrayed Shoorpanakha not as a caricature but as a woman with her own concept of love, beauty, and desire. I have taken a similar approach for all the 24 “atukathas” [Kathakali stories] I have written, be it on Karna, Hidimbi or Ghatotkacha.

Tradition often simplifies characters into good and evil. But life is not like that. Every person has reasons; every action has context. I wanted to give dignity to characters who were dismissed or vilified. By doing so, I also wanted to show audiences that mythology is not fixed; it is living, breathing, and open to reinterpretation.

You also wrote about Mandodari, Ravana’s wife, this year. How did you approach her story?Mandodari is often overlooked. In Valmiki’s Ramayana, her grief after Ravana’s death is mentioned, but not explored deeply. My wife suggested I create a kathakali play based on Mandodari, and at first, I hesitated. I feared critics would reject it as too unconventional. But the idea haunted me.

Eventually, I decided to use [writer] Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan’s version of Ramayana so no one could accuse me of inventing anything. I expanded the silences in the epic – her sorrow, her confrontation with Rama, her curse upon him.

In my play, Mandodari tells Rama: “Is it right to punish a woman who loved you so much?” She curses him that in his next life, he will be loved by many women and must accept them all.

By doing this, I gave Mandodari depth and dignity. She is not just Ravana’s widow; she is a woman with her own perspective on love, loss, and justice.

You are presenting Shoorpanakhankam, the story of Ravana’s sister, at the NCPA on July 18. But you have reinterpreted her differently. What can the audience expect from you?
Yes, traditionally Shoorpanakha is portrayed in kwith exaggerated features – dark face, large breasts, black clothes – and then transformed into a beautiful woman when she approaches Rama. But I felt this was unfair. She was Ravana’s sister, part of the richest family of her time. She would have had her own aesthetic, her own concept of love, sex, and beauty. She was not simply a caricature of lust.

In my play, I show her as a woman with dignity, who loved Rama sincerely. When Lakshmana, who had earlier killed Shoorpanakha’s son Shambhukumar mutilates her, it is not just punishment – it is tragedy. Later, she curses Rama, saying that in his next life many women will love him, and he will have to accept them all. This curse becomes a prophecy fulfilled in Krishna’s life. My interpretation gives Shoorpanakha agency and voice, rather than reducing her to a grotesque figure.

I will be playing Shoorpanakha’s role and because of the time allotted, the audience will see only Rama, Lakshmana and Sita.

Why focus on Shoorpanakha and Mandodari, characters often marginalised in traditional retellings?
Because they represent voices that were silenced. Traditional narratives often dismiss women as temptresses or victims. I wanted to show them as thinkers, lovers, and agents of destiny. Shoorpanakha’s love was genuine, Mandodari’s grief was profound.

By reinterpreting them, I invite audiences to see mythology not as rigid but as living, breathing human drama. I have also completed atukathas about King Lear and Urmila, Lakshmana’s wife, and hope to stage them soon.

Despite your body of work, you haven’t received any national award. Does that disappoint you?
Not at all. Recognition is secondary. I have written 24 attukathas, sculpted 30-35 works and painted. For me, art connects to an unseen power. That is more important than awards.

In the early years, I was anxious about recognition. But I realised that awards are not the measure of art. People may not accept my productions because they are unconventional, but that is fine. Tradition has its place, and innovation has its place. All the actors who have performed the characters I have written have appreciated my work. That is a big reward.

What is kathakali to you today?
Kathakali is a complete theatre form – with colours, music, costumes, characters, and drama. It is perfect theatre. My passion now is teaching, sculpting and writing, keeping this tradition alive.

Kathakali combines everything: the visual spectacle of costumes, the discipline of body movement, the depth of music, and the power of storytelling.

Do you have any other ambitions left?
I want to do the 108 poses of Natyashastra in terracotta sculpture. I have completed about 20 and need to find time to complete the remaining. I have also completed 24 busts of well-known kathakali gurus.

An unseen power keeps me going. And I am very happy with all my works and creations.

Retired journalist Sunil Warrier is a theatre and dance lover.