When women participate in the film industry, a young woman dares to dream in different ways.

Before independence in India in the 1920s, PK Rosy became the first female leader in Malayalam Language Cinemas, now in southern Kerala.

She starred in a movie called Vigathakumaran or The Lost Child in the 1920s. But her story is not remembered as a pioneer, but is concealed by caste discrimination and social opposition.

Rosy belongs to a lower community and faces strong criticism for portraying a top-class woman in Vigathakumaran.

Nearly a hundred years later, there is no surviving evidence of the rose-colored character. The film's reel was destroyed and the cast and crew were both dead.

In a controversial press release in October 1930, only a few photos of the film survived, and an unverified black and white photo promoted by local newspapers as Rosy’s only portrait.

Even Google Doodle, who celebrated her 120th birthday, used illustrations similar to those of the woman in the photo. But Rosy's nephew and others who have studied her life told the BBC they couldn't finally say it was her picture.

PK Rosy was born in Rajamma in the early 1900s, in the former kingdom of Travancore and is now Kerala.

She belongs to a group of turf from the Dalits Pulaya community, located at the bottom of India's harsh caste hierarchy and oppressed by history.

"People from the Playa community are considered slave labor and are auctioned off by the land," said Malavika Binny, a professor of history at Kannur University.

"They are considered 'lowest'. They are whipped, raped, tied to a tree and caught fire with any so-called illegal acts," she added.

Despite the severe social challenges, Rosy chose a different dream.

She was supported by her uncle, who herself was a drama artist and entered the entertainment field with his help.

“There are few facts about Rosy’s life, but her performances in local dramas are well known to be popular,” said Vinu Abraham, author of Lost The Loterine, a novel based on Rosy’s life.

Although her acting skills won admiration, Dalit women rarely performed at the time.

"She is likely to realize that this is a new stage and it is important to make herself visible," Professor Binny said.

She quickly became a famous figure in the local theater industry, and her talent attracted the attention of director JC Daniel, who was then searching for his film - a character named Sarojini.

Daniel realizes Rosy's caste identity and chooses to play her.

"The shooting time for 10 days was 10 days, and she was paid five rupees a day," Abraham said. "In the 1920s, it was a lot of money."

On the day the film premiered, Rosy and her family were banned from attending the screening.

Rosy's nephew Biju Govindan said they were stopped because they were Dalits.

So a series of events began, pushing Rosy away from the public's eyes and from her home.

"The crowd who came to watch the movie was aroused by two things: the rose-colored plays an upper class woman, and the hero picks up a flower from his hair and kisses it in one scene."

He added: "They started throwing stones on the screen and then chased Daniel."

There are different statements about the extent of the theatre damage, but the loss of the incident is obvious, which brings losses to Rose and Daniel.

Daniel spent a lot of money to build a studio and gather resources to make the movie, and was in debt. Faced with enormous social and financial pressure, the director is now widely regarded as the father of a Malayalam film and has never made another film.

After the angry mob caught fire, Rosie fled his hometown.

She has made all connections with her family to avoid being recognized and has never spoken publicly about her past. She rebuilds her life by marrying a top-class man and rebuilding her life under the name of Rajammal.

Abraham said she lived the rest of her life in the town of Nagurku in Tamil Nadu.

Rosy's nephew, Mr. Govendan, said her child refused to accept Dalit actor PK Rosy as their mother.

"Her children were born with the identity of Kesavan Pillai. They chose the seeds of their fathers over the uterus of their mothers," he said.

"Our family is part of Dalit identity of PK Rosy before the release of the movie," he said.

"In the space they live in, caste restricts them from accepting their Dalit heritage. That's their reality, where our families have no place."

In 2013, Malayalam TV channels tracked Rosy's daughter Padma, who lives in financial stress somewhere in Tamil Nadu. She told them she didn’t know her mother’s life before she got married, but she didn’t take action after that.

The BBC tried to contact Rosy's children, but their relatives said they were not satisfied with the attention.

Professor Binny said the erasure of Rosy's legacy shows how profound caste-based trauma can take.

"It could be so intense that it shapes or defines the rest of her life," she said, adding that she was glad Rosy finally found a safe space.

In recent years, Dalit filmmakers and activists have tried to retake Rosie's legacy. Influential Tamil director Pa Ranjith celebrates Dalit Cinema's annual film festival under her name. The Film Society and Foundation have also been established.

But there is still a troubling feeling that, although Rossi was eventually saved, it comes at the expense of her passion and identity.

Mr Govindan said: "Rosy prioritized survival over art and therefore never tried to speak out publicly or take back her lost identity. It was not her failure - it was social."

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