Truth may be stranger than fiction, but what is truth? If only one account survives of an incident, can we accept it as accurate? It does happen that a person interprets events differently, deliberately or otherwise, constructing what amounts to fiction. To bring this argument to its logical conclusion, some fictions are truer than what passes for objective truth, truer not in terms of fact, but in expressing truths that matter to humanity. Academy Theatre’s intelligently conceived festival on pioneering actress, Binodini Dasi, marking the 125th anniversary of her betrayal by her male colleagues, raised these thoughts.

All work on Binodini must start with her autobiography. Two of the three productions rely on it, but that does not instantly authenticate them. Consider Binodini by Dhaka Theatre (Bangladesh), a solo act by Shimul Yousuf, who delivers Simon Zakaria’s compilation of passages from that primary source, interspersed with dialogue from famous characters created by Binodini. Be it for Yousuf’s off-day (she hardly differentiated among the roles) or Nasiruddin Yousuf’s poor direction, the performance fell flat, suggesting that the bare text of memoirs does not necessarily make theatrical speech. Only her full-bodied singing stays with us.

In contrast, Theatre and Television Associates (Delhi) presented a richly textured Nati Binodini (picture) in director Amal Allana’s patented artistic style, but I cannot help thinking that viewers did not get their money’s worth (organizers, too, for TaTA shows cost a pretty paisa). Many of the theatrical devices are postmodern clichés: five actresses playing Binodini, a translucent reflective platform floor. Peculiarly, the acting is consciously melodramatic, and does not gel with the international design. Salima Raza, the old Binodini (and co-scripter), jars the most, loud and grotesque in her pathos. Her stilted Bengali worsens the effect; she should stick to Hindi. The seen-it-all Swaroopa Ghosh and wide-eyed Sonam Kalra are the most expressive of the younger Binodinis. The best acting comes from Jayanto Das, who is fluently trilingual (including English), as Girish Ghosh.

One anticipates so much from Nissar Allana’s evocative scenography that his shortcut computer-projected painted backcloths disappointed immensely, even more so when the projector’s brand and Windows desktop flashed briefly but amateurishly on the flats.

Details count a lot in such an acclaimed show, so research credibility collapsed when Binodini waltzed to a record — in the 1870s, before the invention of the record. To top that, I noticed that the disc was 45-rpm and its label, Apple, of Beatles fame. Luckily, Devajit Bandyopadhyay provided authentic songs for the soundtrack.

Most unexpectedly, therefore, the “truth” of Binodini came out in Bharattirtha Jatra Samaj’s fictionalized Nati Binodini. Abridged by director Tridib Ghosh from Brajendra Kumar Dey’s hit on his birth centenary, it still clocks over three hours and blatantly disregards chronology. Yet, Tapasi Roy Choudhury captures more intensely Binodini’s strength, devastation at her exploitation, spiritual yearnings and, most crucially, her feelings — those ineffable emotional truths that lie between words. It is also closer to history in certain ways, giving us perspectives on the characters that Allana ignores: Ramakrishna (movingly rendered by Prabhat Chakraborty), the farceur Amritalal Basu, and even Mrs Girish Ghosh. Binay Ganguli portrays Girish vividly, whether spouting English blank verse or getting rip-roaring drunk. Unlike our image of Jatra, the play rejects stereotypes by depicting Gurmukh Rai (played by the appropriately-named Romeo Chaudhuri), the Marwari enamoured of Binodini, as an upright benefactor who does not even touch her. If Jatra follows this model, it has hope for reform.

Unheralded, another lead actress’s travails nearer our time form the subject of Uhinee’s Tumi Dak Diyechha Kon Sakale. Thirty years after the talented Keya Chakrabarti’s premature death, young director Adrija Dasgupta argues that things had not changed much in the life of a woman performer, who must tend to home as well as profession. It develops more like a workshop production, but Uhinee boldly asks telling questions about the role of some big names connected with Keya.