Manjamma Jogathi is very clear about one thing. “It was my art, not activism, that took me from the pavement to the Padma Shri,” she reiterated several times at the recent launch of her autobiography From Manjunath to Manjamma.
The book, co-authored by journalist Harsha Bhat, offers a deep dive into the decades-long journey of this renowned folk artiste, born Manjunath Setty, who received the Padma Shri for her contribution to folk arts in 2021.
Not that it was an easy journey. In her memoir, Manjamma lingers on some of the most traumatic parts of her life, including her struggle against poverty and deprivation, the sexual abuse she was subjected to, a suicide attempt, the abandonment and derision she faced from her own family, romantic betrayals and so much more.
“I am a woman in a man’s body,” she writes in the preface of this autobiography. “Ever since I have known this aspect of my being, my life has been a constant struggle.”
As Parishat president
But what sustained her, kept her going through this all, helping her reinstate her honour and win many laurels and recognition, was the art. The “magic wand” of Jogathi Nritya helped turn her life around, she writes in the book. This folk-art form of North Karnataka “helped me cast the magic spell that made me who I am today,” believes Manjamma, who went on to become the first trans woman president of the Karnataka Janapada Parishat, albeit not without controversy.
“Do you know that someone resigned from the academy because a trans person was made the president?” she asks at a pre-event interview, adding that over time, however, that person came around and even regretted this decision.
Holding this prestigious office, she believes, hasn’t just altered her life but changed things for the entire art community.
“People realised that if a person coming from this background could achieve so much, other trans people could,” she says in the same interview. Jogathi Nritya, after all, as she writes in the book, has empowered many transgendered people, like her, to “earn a living, to not have to resort to begging or sex work, to gain respect and recognition as folk artistes and free ourselves from the clutches of ridicule that the world imprisons us in.”
She also adds that she hopes that writing the book, which offers a glimpse of both her life and the larger Jogathi community, will “enable inclusive acceptance of others like me.”
Jogathi culture
Manjamma’s art and life took centre stage at the launch event, held at The Bookworm in Bengaluru last Saturday, where the book’s unveiling was followed by a conversation between the artiste and her co-author Harsha Bhat with noted Kannada writer, Vasudhendra.
Vasudhendra begins the conversation by asking this question. “How does this book stand out from other books written about the trans community?” he asks, listing some other notable memoirs, which include The Truth about Me: A Hijra Life Story by A Revathi, I Am Vidya by Living Smile Vidya and Me Hijra, Me Laxmi by Laxmi Narayan Tripathi.
Goddess Yellamma
In his opinion, he adds, the major difference is this: the book focuses on the Jogathi culture, which is different from other trans communities. Unlike the hijra tradition, there is a sense of divinity associated with the Jogathis since they are believed to have been chosen by the Goddess Yellamma herself.
“Before the Constitution recognised me, my Yellama recognised me,” she states in the book, a point that Vasudhendra reiterates, following it up with a discussion about the origin story of the goddess, Renuka Yellamma.
According to Manjamma, the prevailing belief that the Jogathi’s body becomes a vessel for Yellamma gives them some advantages that other trans communities do not enjoy. Having said that, Manjamma herself has undergone many traumatic situations, something she briefly spoke about at the session and delved into great detail in her book.
For instance, since she belonged to the Aryavaishya community, being possessed by Yellamma was seen as a disgrace by her family, she pointed out. “Recently, however, an association of the same community organised a function where they honoured me for my achievements,” she mentioned wryly.
The conversation then veers towards the practices and rituals associated with the Jogathi community, all of which Manjamma herself has undertaken. “This is very important to me,” says Manjamma during the event, tugging on her beaded necklace. Being given this necklace is part of the initiation ceremony of a Jogathi, a ceremony which also includes the cutting of the uddara or waist thread that boys wear since birth, she adds, going on to reminiscence about the past and discuss other complexities of the community, including its pervasive caste politics.“
A complex culture
Unearthing the rich cultural fabric of this community, “its depth and its vastness” was an important aspect of writing this book, says co-author Ms. Bhat, going on to delve into the genesis of the project.
“It felt like a responsibility,” says Ms. Bhat, who first met Manjamma in 2021. The folk artiste was in Delhi to receive her Padma Shri when Ms Bhat, who was working as a journalist then, approached her asking for an interview. “I just called her and told her I wanted to meet her,” she says, recalling how Ms. Manjamma, almost immediately acquiesced, asking to meet her in her room.
After the interview was done, Ms. Bhat told the folk artiste that she wanted to write a book about her. Ms. Manjamma promptly agreed to it, recalls Ms Bhat, who spent the next two years trailing behind the folk artiste, engaging in long, deep conversations with her. “I recorded all our discussions and interactions,” she recalls, adding that from those discussions, she gleaned the threads of narrative that would make it into the final book.
Not that this came without challenges. While Ms. Bhat wanted the book to authentically echo the voice and personality of its subject, she admits that there was sometimes a language barrier as she often found it difficult to understand the dialect of Kannada that Manjamma spoke.
Additionally, as a heterosexual cis woman, she had to be aware of the complexities involved in writing about an experience that was not a lived one, especially since there was a divinity and culture aspect that needed to be considered.
Referring to the iconic essay by Roland Barthes, titled The Death of the Author, where the essayist argues that the writer’s identity is unimportant to a piece of creative work, she says, “I had to die so that Manjamma could write through me,” she says, adding. “The book happened because Amma made it happen. It is nothing short of a fable that it came through.”
