Written and directed by Ratnam, and delivered in a voice that is warm, authentic, and assured, the performance finds her at ease as cultural commentator and keen observer, weaving personal childhood memories into the narrative with relatable candor.
Through Sītā, Mandodarī, Śūrpaṇakhā, Mantharā, and Ahalyā, Ratnam exposes the ironies surrounding women in myth—revered, feared, judged, misremembered. With humor and quiet provocation, she reframes the narrative as one of personal justice: Śūrpaṇakhā punished for honesty and desire, Mantharā for being the spark that set the Rāma story in motion, yet forever reduced to the trope of the conniving hunchback.
The production blends classical movement, theatre, and spoken word with elegant restraint. Three suspended fabric panels—gold for Rāvaṇa, blue for Rāma, peach for Sītā—anchor the stage. The lotus returns as motif: Sītā’s birth, Lakṣmaṇa’s blade, Bharata’s sandals. The Ahalyā episode, rendered through unfolding folds of white and gold, becomes a striking visual of entrapment and redemption.
Equally compelling are Ratnam’s co-performers. Uma Satyanarayana moves fluidly between song, character, and narration, embodying multiple roles with emotional depth and precision. Multi-percussionist Ashwini Srinivasan shapes the sonic landscape with acute sensitivity, responding to movement and mood alike. Together, the trio performs in remarkable sync—no small feat given the seamless interweaving of live and recorded sound.
The production’s visual texture is enriched by its objects. Props devised by Rex and Anita Ratnam form an eclectic, transnational archive—green gloves, a Malaysian headdress, Thai golden nails, South African Xhosa ornaments, and a MoMA book light—each a travelled witness within this ever-evolving work. Lighting design by Victor Paulraj keeps pace with the unfolding narrative, while the costumes and minimalist fabric panels by Sandhya Raman maintain a mood that is simple and elegant.
What gives A Million Sitas its force is restraint. Ratnam avoids rhetoric, allowing contradictions to surface on their own—between myth and memory, reverence and erasure, ideal and individual. In retelling Sītā’s story, she invites each viewer to locate the Sītā within—the one who questions, chooses, endures, and ultimately redefines what it means to be a woman, then, now, and in the times to come.