Anu Vaidyanathan is a filmmaker, comedian, and engineer. In 2009, she made history as the first Indian triathlete, male or female, to complete an Ironman Triathlon. In the same year, she also became the first Asian triathlete to finish an Ultraman race.
She is now set to perform her debut theatre show, "Menagerie," recounting the journey of a South Indian immigrant who has navigated loss of direction and language, ultimately realizing the importance of seeking assistance. "Menagerie" delves into modern motherhood, the immigrant experience, and her life as a South Indian married to a North Indian—her polar opposite in physique, temperament, and wisdom.
In an interview with Asian Voice, she discusses her cultural heritage, storytelling and finding the balance.
Could you share a bit about your upbringing and personal experience as a South Asian immigrant and how it has influenced your work?
I have been living away from home since I was 16, and I embraced this independence with the resources I had at the time. The comforts of living with your parents don't accompany you when you are on your own and must rely on yourself. Although I have been fortunate in many ways, such as pursuing education and sports, I now see things from a broader perspective. This experience has helped me recognize the challenges and growth that come with stepping outside the home.
While we do lose the privileges we take for granted, the good news is that this loss helps you discover your own potential, true desires, and the freedoms you seek. I come from a household that has always encouraged independence; my parents never subscribed to stereotypes like those seen in "Bend It Like Beckham." They consistently told me to pursue what I wanted and to be the woman I aspired to be, emphasizing that I am equal to my brother. This approach to parenting was significant, rooted in a generous spirit, and it enabled me to truly discover my own path.
My parents only ever emphasized the importance of working very hard at whatever you do. Nothing comes easy, and there is no sense of entitlement. We were always reminded to understand our roots, and never had anything handed to us, even the privileges we did enjoy. My parents never treated us as their favourite children or made us feel the world revolved around us. There was high accountability but without control. I never faced any limitations other than financial or access-related ones, as we didn't come from the wealthiest of neighbourhoods. The freedom I had, allowed me to cultivate my interests independently, without constant external influence. This autonomy was invaluable, helping me find my own direction and orientation.
How has your heritage and culture influenced your approach towards storytelling and comedy?
I'm very grateful to whatever greater powers that I entered the Arts field as a fully formed adult. When you lack a centre stage, especially as an immigrant without a foothold, you're often the diverse voice, the brown person in the room, the candidate there to make others feel better about themselves.
Without these advantages, you can become an apologist, accepting limited narratives and dramaturgy. However, I have no such issues, thanks to my family. My grandmother, though illiterate, used to write songs. She instilled in us a sense of discovery and play that cannot be formally taught in school. The same goes for my sport. I was an autodidact, with no one telling me what to do initially. Eventually, I had a great coach who helped me think about how to structure my training, but that wasn't my starting point. My culture and heritage deeply inform me, grounding me in who I want to be, I may not live in the country or home where I was raised, but I know where I want to go and who I don't want to become.
In developing your show, how do you craft the storyline? How challenging is it to present something personal, drawing from your heritage and experiences?
I believe all my writing is deeply personal. I don't limit myself to this world; I explore realms far beyond it in my pieces. As fiction writers, we have the expansive stage of our minds to draw upon. Good writing, for me, stems not only from lived experiences but also from the realms my imagination can traverse—where my heart envisions how things could or should be.
The most challenging aspect, I find, is addressing taboo subjects. As a mother, there's a pervasive expectation to always have everything under control. Any display of vulnerability often invites criticism and judgment. What I've come to realize, especially through my journey into the arts, is that my values are uniquely mine. It's been a profound discovery that amidst societal pressures, staying true to these values is paramount, even when faced with ethical and unkind behaviours around me. I think about my grandmother, who couldn't read or write but wrote songs, and that sense of magic stays with me.
Given all the diverse roles you juggle, how do you manage to balance these responsibilities alongside motherhood?
Actually, I don't manage balance very well, I'm quite unbalanced. I believe it's essential to acknowledge your truth every day to make progress. Throughout my various pursuits, I've always focused on one thing at a time. Multitasking, in my opinion, is another illusion we're sold, especially as women. We're often told we can do everything, but in reality, it's not feasible. When I'm cooking dinner, I need to focus on that. When my kids are upset, I need to focus on comforting them. When I'm writing, I need to give my full attention to that task.
The answer lies in understanding why and how. How we approach things is crucial because we can't pursue everything. I always strive to discern what's important each day. This approach helps me stay grounded and true to myself amidst life's demands.
