Kerala transwoman breaks barriers to make mark in Kathakali
Kathakali was never alien to Ranjumol Mohan. Growing up, she had seen her uncles and cousins, trained in temple percussion instruments like thimila and chenda, perform at local temple festivals. Her first brush with art happened in class 5 when she was picked by a school teacher, who saw glimpses of rhythm and music in her, for a sub-district competition in Ottanthullal, a local dance-cum-recitation art form steeped in humour and satire. She won the first prize there too.
Ranjumol Mohan distinctly remembers the day she came out to her sister as a transwoman at the age of 28. It was the day after Christmas in 2015 and both her parents had passed away by then; her father first in 2008 following a heart attack and her mother succumbing to liver cirrhosis in 2015. Born as Ranjith in a conservative middle-class Hindu family in Mannar in Kottayam district, she said she knew very early on in her childhood that she identified as a woman.
“It’s just something that I always knew as a child. I studied in a boys school and I was always taunted by other kids for the way I spoke and behaved. But I didn’t pay much attention to it,” she said.
Sitting in a single-storey rented home in Kochi, that she shared with a friend, Ranjumol threw her head down and mumbled as few words as possible every time she remembered the dark times in her life. “They (family) were not supportive (when I came out) and I had to leave home. Initially, I spent around six months in towns like Mysuru and Mandya where I begged in front of shops. The first time I begged for money, I cried because that’s not how my parents raised me,” she said.
With a B Sc (geography) degree, Ranjumol returned to Kerala when she got a job with Kochi Metro in its ticketing counter. But with the pay abysmally low, she said she turned to sex work at nights and begging on trains on the side to make ends meet. She did odd jobs and courses until 2021 when a window of opportunity opened up in the form of the Kerala government offering scholarships for transgender students.
“I took it up readily. I grew up in a family filled with musicians and percussionists on both my dad’s and mom’s side. Art ran in our veins. So it was only natural that I chose to study Kathakali Vesham as a BA course at the RLV College of Music and Fine Arts in Thripunithura. I have always been enamoured by the stories in Kathakali,” said Ranjumol, who in 2021 became the first trans person to enrol for a Kathakali course.
Three years later, she broke the glass ceiling with greater impact by bagging the first rank in Kathakali Vesham in the Mahatma Gandhi (MG) University examinations in May.
It was a friend who rang her up to tell her that she was the topper in the university examination. Ranjumol wasn’t surprised. “I don’t want to lose in life. I want to win and I studied hard. And I desperately wanted to show people that I can perform Kathakali too, irrespective of what they think,” the transwoman said.
“In my victory, I know that trans persons will find the encouragement to go into performing arts. There are around three-four of them who have joined for courses in Bharatanatyam and Mohiniyattam. They are very talented and they deserve to be in this field.”
Kathakali was never alien to the 36-year-old. Growing up, she had seen her uncles and cousins, trained in temple percussion instruments like thimila and chenda, perform at local temple festivals. Her first brush with art happened in class 5 when she was picked by a school teacher, who saw glimpses of rhythm and music in her, for a sub-district competition in Ottanthullal, a local dance-cum-recitation art form steeped in humour and satire. She won the first prize there too.
Thanks to government intervention and awareness, there is certainly more visibility for trans persons in society today than a decade ago when she came out, she stressed. But the discrimination still follows her wherever she goes. And it was evident during her time in Kathakali classes and afterward too.
“Very few people interacted with me in college. To see them noticing me and still not talking to me did hurt. And so I would sit alone sometimes, keep my head down and let it pass. I didn’t allow the discrimination to get to me,” she said.
When the results came out, except the principal, none of the teachers called to congratulate her on her rank, she sighed. There were no calls from the government either. “The principal was kind enough to urge me to pursue masters’ at the college, but the other teachers didn’t say a word. It saddened me a lot because I realised that they don’t think of me the way I thought they would. They could have called,” said Ranjumol.
Since completing her studies, Ranjumol has performed Kathakali only a couple of times, once at the famed Poornathrayeesa temple in Tripunithura. But, invites have since dried up.
Instead of going for a masters’ course, Ranjumol is now training under Arya Devi, a private teacher who has got a government teaching fellowship.
Devi told HT, “Since I have a teaching fellowship, students like Ranjumol don’t have to pay for classes. That takes the financial burden off her. She’s a good student and quick to learn. As she improves, I am sure she will get a lot of gigs to perform.”
Ranjumol also plans to enrol for a distance masters course in Geography this year in the hope of landing a teaching job in the future. Kathakali meanwhile will remain her passion.
“It was one of my dreams in life to study Kathakali vesham and practice it. I have done that. But it’s not a career option for me because you cannot make a living off it. But I will not abandon Kathakali. It will be a part of my life,” she said.
