As part of the 2026 Girish Karnad Fellowship programme, playwright Usha Kattemane’s Angaara, directed by Abhinav Grover, was performed recently at the Prestige Centre for Performing Arts in Bengaluru as part of the Chiguru & Kusumale Theatre Festival organised by Samagata Foundation and Bhasha Centre. By combining local performance traditions, multilingual dramaturgical approaches and social-political criticism, Udupi’s Punaha Theater, examines the long-term consequences of the caste system in coastal Karnataka through Angaara.

“Writing from a safe space is the easier path. But I like challenges. They keep a writer alive. That is why I tried to create a play that reflect the contemporary life of Tulunadu,” reads the Playwright’s note.

Kattemane explores the religious and agrarian lives of the marginalised Koraga community of Tulunadu. The play uses Kambala, the buffalo ritualistic/race-sport of coastal Karnataka, as its dramatic background. The playwright skilfully creates a narrative that shows the contradictions of tradition and modernity, caste hegemonies, and social exclusions. It does not portray caste discrimination as being a relic of history; rather, it illustrates how it can live-on even beneath the rhetoric of cultural pride, progress and political ambitions.

Director, Abhinav utilises the stage space effectively. Fabric partitions create separate areas on the stage representing different social worlds. The visual design evokes traditional theatrical methods and simultaneously operates as a metaphor for social division. The play uses languages such as Tulu, Kannada, Konkani, and English, spoken in multilingual and contemporary Tulunadu. Language serves as a dialogue between characters.

The play opens with the Ekalavya-Dronacharya episode, designed by Sanjeeva Suvarna’s Gurudakshina Yakshagana, an underlying framework for caste separation, which is depicted throughout the play. Notably, Ekalavya is played by a woman; thus, questions of gender as well as access are introduced. Yakshagana section is not a brief symbolic prologue, but seamlessly transitions into the main play. Thus, there exists an effective theatrical method linking mythology to social realities.

A government school teacher from the Koraga community Angaara, exemplifies a generation caught between conflicting aspects of education and rationalism and inherited traditions. Angaara’s scepticism toward the daiva worship puts him at odds with his family. Baliga portrays Angaara, not as a reformist, but as a conflicted individual trying to reconcile multiple worlds. Paralleling Angaara’s story is that of Nethra, a natal-return bereaved woman. Nethra’s interest in purchasing and managing racing buffalo in Kambala challenges gendered expectations of ownership, labour and public participation.

One of the most layered characters in the production is that of Deyyu, Angaara’s mother. In an emotionally charged flashback, she invokes spiritual powers through chanting to protect the life of an ailing-infant Angaara. She functions as a intermediary between humans and divine beings, occupying a role of authority that raises questions about female agency within ritualistic systems generally considered patriarchal. 

Angaara delivers its most scathing indictment during the Kambala celebrations. A red bull-faced flag is lowered prematurely, triggering panic and urgent recourse to ritualistic remedies. At this juncture Angaara discloses historical exploitation of the Koraga community recalling instances where they were allegedly forced to run before the racing buffalos to ensure the field is free of nails and thorns. The comparison between humans and the buffalos is intentionally disquieting pushing spectators to acknowledge histories of dehumanisation commonly absent from stories celebrating regional cultures.

Angaara neither implies caste oppression belongs to history nor provides simplified models for progress. Instead, it poses difficult inquiries into how prejudice persists through institutions, rituals, relationships and political self-interest. With powerful performances, multi-layered scriptwriting and an astute synthesis of regional performance traditions, Angaara substantiates theatre’s continued potential to challenge collective memory. The ‘fire’ invoked in its title is not simply destructive; it is an insistent ember indicating histories that never fade away.