India's forgotten actor who lost her legacy to caste oppression

In the early 20th century, a remarkable woman named PK Rosy emerged as a trailblazer in the Indian film industry. During a time when societal norms discouraged women from pursuing careers in cinema, Rosy defied the odds and became the first female lead in Malayalam-language films. Her debut was in a movie titled Vigathakumaran, or The Lost Child, which was released in the 1920s in what is now Kerala. Unfortunately, instead of being celebrated for her groundbreaking role, Rosy's story was overshadowed by the harsh realities of caste discrimination and societal backlash. Rosy hailed from a lower-caste community, and her portrayal of an upper-caste woman in the film drew intense criticism. Nearly a century later, there is no surviving evidence of her performance. The film's reel was destroyed, and all the cast and crew members have since passed away. The only remnants of the film are a few dated photographs and an unverified black-and-white image that has been circulated as Rosy's portrait. However, even her family members who have researched her life cannot confirm if the image is indeed of her. Born as Rajamma in the early 1900s in the former kingdom of Travancore, now Kerala, Rosy belonged to a family of grass cutters from the Pulaya community, which is part of the Dalit group that has historically faced oppression in India. Malavika Binny, a history professor at Kannur University, explains that people from the Pulaya community were often treated as slave labor and subjected to horrific violence. Despite these challenges, Rosy dared to dream of a different life. With the support of her uncle, who was a theater artist, she ventured into the world of entertainment. Vinu Abraham, the author of The Lost Heroine, a novel based on Rosy's life, notes that while there are few documented facts about her life, she gained popularity for her performances in local plays. It was uncommon for a Dalit woman to pursue acting during that era, but Rosy understood the importance of visibility in a new field. Her talent caught the attention of director JC Daniel, who was searching for a lead actress for his film. Aware of Rosy's caste background, he still chose to cast her in the role of Sarojini. Rosy was paid five rupees a day for ten days of filming, a significant sum at the time. However, on the day of the film's premiere, Rosy and her family were barred from attending due to their caste status. This incident sparked a series of events that led to Rosy's withdrawal from the public eye. The audience's reaction to the film was fueled by two factors: Rosy's portrayal of an upper-caste woman and a scene where the hero picks a flower from her hair and kisses it. The crowd became enraged, throwing rocks at the screen and chasing Daniel away. The extent of the damage to the theater is debated, but it is clear that the incident had a profound impact on both Rosy and Daniel. After the film's failure, Daniel, who is now regarded as the father of Malayalam cinema, never made another movie. He had invested heavily in establishing a studio and producing the film, leaving him in significant debt. Meanwhile, Rosy was forced to flee her hometown after an angry mob set her house on fire. To avoid being recognized, she severed ties with her family and never spoke publicly about her past. She rebuilt her life by marrying an upper-caste man and adopting the name Rajammal. She spent the rest of her life in obscurity in Nagercoil, Tamil Nadu. Tragically, her children rejected their mother's identity as a Dalit actress. Rosy's nephew, Biju Govindan, explains that her children were born into an upper-caste identity and chose to embrace their father's heritage over their mother's. In 2013, a journalist located Rosy's daughter, Padma, who was living in financial hardship in Tamil Nadu. Padma revealed that she knew little about her mother's life before marriage and that Rosy did not act after that. The BBC attempted to reach out to Rosy's children, but their relatives indicated that they were uncomfortable with the attention. Professor Binny emphasizes that the erasure of Rosy's legacy illustrates the deep-rooted trauma caused by caste discrimination. She expresses relief that Rosy eventually found a safe space, even if it meant sacrificing her passion. In recent years, Dalit filmmakers and activists have worked to reclaim Rosy's legacy. Notably, Tamil director Pa Ranjith has established an annual film festival in her honor, celebrating Dalit cinema. However, there remains a lingering sense that while Rosy ultimately found safety, it came at the expense of her artistic identity. Govindan poignantly states, 'Rosy prioritized survival over art, and as a result, never tried to speak publicly or reclaim her lost identity. That's not her failure - it's society's.