The forgotten Indian actor who lost his inheritance to caste oppression

At a time when women’s participation in the film industry frowned, a young woman dared to dream differently.

In 1920, before India India, PK Rosy became the first female leader in Malayalamian cinema in what the Southern state of Kerala is now.

She starred in a film called Vigathakumaran, or the lost child, in the 20s. But instead of being remembered as a pioneer, her story was buried – deleted by caste discrimination and social reaction.

Rossi belonged to a lower caste community and was confronted with intense criticism of depicting a woman with a upper caste in Vigakumaran.

Almost a hundred years later, there is no surviving evidence of Rosie’s role. The reel of the film was destroyed and the cast and crew were killed.

Just a few pictures of the movie from a A contested press release Dated October 1930, she survived, along with an unverified black and white photo, promoted by local newspapers as the only portrait of Rossi.

Even a Google Doodle celebrates its 120th birthday It uses an illustration similar to the woman in the photo. But the nephew of Rosie and others who have explored her life have told the BBC that they cannot categorically say that it is in the picture.

PK Rossi was born as Rajama in the early 1900s in the previous kingdom of Travancore, now Kerala.

It belonged to a family of grass cutters from the Pulaya community, some of the Dalits that are at the bottom of the raw caste hierarchy of India and were suppressed historically.

“The people of the Pulaya community are considered slavery and auctioned land,” says Malawika Binny, a professor of history at the University of Canoe.

“They were considered the” lowest. ”

Despite the difficult social challenges, Rossi chose to dream differently.

She was supported by her uncle, who himself was the theater artist and with his help Rosie entered the field of fun.

“There are few facts available about Rosie’s life, but it is known that she was popular for her performances in local plays,” says Vinu Abraham, author of The Lost Hero, a novel based on Rosie’s life.

While her acting skills gain admiration, a woman from Dalit is rarely obtained to do acting at the time.

“She was probably aware of the fact that this is a new arena and to see that it is important,” says Prof. Binny.

She soon became a well -known figure in local theatrical circles and her talent caught the eye of director JC Daniel, who then sought a leading actor for his movie – a character named Sarons.

Daniel was aware of Rosie’s caste identity and chose to throw her into the role.

“She was paid for her five rupees a day for 10 days of shooting,” said Abraham. “It was a significant amount of money in the 20s.”

On the day of the movie’s premiere, Rosie and her family were forbidden to attend the screening.

They were stopped because they were Dalti, says Rosie Bidge Govindan’s nephew.

And so began a chain of events that pushed roses from the audience and her home.

“The crowd that came to watch the movie were provoked by two things: Roses played a woman with an upper caste and the character who chooses a flower from her hair and kissed it in one scene,” said Mr Abraham.

“They started throwing rocks on the screen and chased away Daniel,” he added.

There are different stories about the degree of theater damage, but what is clear is the fee that the incident has taken from both roses and Daniel.

Daniel had spent a lot of money to create a studio and raise resources to produce the film and was strongly strained to debt. Faced with huge social and financial pressure, the director, who is now widely considered the father of cinema Malayalam, has never made another movie.

Roses escaped from her hometown after an angry mafia set fire to their house.

She cut all relationships with her family so that she would not be recognized and never spoke publicly about her past. She restored her life by marrying a man with Upper Casta and named Rajamal.

She lived the rest of her life in the unknown in the city of Nagkol in Tamil Nada, says G -n -Abraham.

Her children refused to accept that PK Rossi, the actor of Dalit, is their mother, says Rosie’s nephew G -n Govindan.

“Her children were born with the identity of Gorna Casta Cesavan Pilai. They chose their father’s seed over their mother’s womb,” he says.

“We, her family, are part of Dalite’s identity to PK Rossi before the movie was released,” he said.

“In the space they inhabit, Casta restricts them to accept their inheritance as Dalit. This is their reality and our family has no place in it.”

In 2013, Malayalam a television channel He followed Rosie Padma’s daughter, who lived in a financial strain somewhere in Tamil Nada. She told them that she didn’t know much about her mother’s life before her marriage, but that she did not act afterwards.

The BBC attempts to contact Rosie’s children, but their relatives said they were not comfortable with their attention.

Prof. Binny says that the deletion of Rosie’s legacy shows how deep a caste -based trauma can move.

“It can be so intense that it shapes or determines the rest of her life,” she says, adding that she is glad that roses eventually find a safe space.

In recent years, Dalit’s creators and activists have tried to regain Rosie’s legacy. The influential director of Tamil Pa Ranjit launches an annual film festival in her name, which celebrates cinema Dalit. A Film society And the foundation has also been created.

But there is still a ghostly feeling that although roses are eventually saved, it was at the cost of her passion and identity.

“The pink prioritizes the survival of the art and as a result has never tried to speak publicly or regain its lost identity. This is not its failure – this is society,” says G -n Govindan.

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