Live Issues

A theatre group tackles pressing social problems, while its troupe grows in skill and confidence

Through drama, poetry and song, the all-women Asvaghosa Buddhist troupe raises awareness by addressing social issues. They tackle such themes as alcoholism, dowry injustices, infant death and the hazards of relying on faith healers. They also offer guidance by dramatizing tales from the lives of historical Buddhist women and explaining the ethical principles behind the stories.

These performances help people to reflect on how they deal with personal misfortunes, the treatment of older people, and creating a more positive environment for children.

The Ashvaghosa project runs regular workshops for its 10 to15 members, who then perform in and around Nagpur. Many girls introduce their own ideas, identify the problems, then develop the drama. Initially some are shy in the workshops, let alone in front of a crowd, but I saw them make leaps in confidence. Rama, the trainer of this radical group, explains. ‘The girls learn to communicate better, overcome their fear. The work benefits us performers, as well as educating the audience.’

: Rama, left, raising awareness through storytelling and Drama

Rama gives an example of the pitfalls of blind faith. ‘It’s not uncommon for women to seek a Baba (‘holy’ man) to cure infertility. Sometimes these anguished women are raped by the Baba. Or they go to the Baba when their children are sick, convinced by his bogus magic. When we act out these things, some women cry, begging us to play it a second time and encourage their husbands to watch. ‘During one performance, a man thought I really was Baba. He came up on stage, saying: ‘My child is ill, give him some angara (ash and lemon juice) to cure him".’ Another time a rough man saw their drama portraying the ills of drink. Ashamed of his drunken habits, he offered Rama a lift home on his cycle-rickshaw. He met her family and was impressed by what they said about the danger of drink. Since then he has started meditating, attending Buddhist retreats, and stopped drinking.

I watched lively rehearsals over a couple of days. ‘It’s rare for women to come together like this, to play music or take the lead. It’s also risky to travel in the dark, but we manage, and are appreciated. Usually men enjoy the dramas and are proud that women take the lead.’

As with any team, they sometimes fall out too, but they have undertaken to work things through together. Some learn more quickly than others, but no girl is barred because the work is useful for her personal development.

: Ashvaghosa players, right, entertain and educate their audience

The evening performance we attend is held inside a walled compound in a slum . Women wrapped in shawls sit clustered together, children huddling close for warmth. Sitting at the back I was unprepared for the sobering impact of the drama on me. Despite no set and only the odd prop, the drama was magnetic. I was drawn into a world of darkness and ignorance – superstition, blind faith, household violence – and also touched by light and wisdom.

Two and a half hours later, with children asleep and 580 rupees collected, I was left distressed by the last sketch. Onto the stage walks a bent woman, a bowl around her neck and bell hung on top of her stick. Stealthily she moves along the shadows, the bowl catching her ‘contaminating’ spittle, the bell warning others to avoid her for fear of pollution: the insidious marks of Untouchability. Those moments of drama affected me as much as any horrific stories about Untouchability.

Untouchability was made illegal more than fifty years ago, but its effects still cast a dark shadow over the minds of the older men and women from these very poor communities. The next day I heard that some people were weeping to recall those times.

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