april-2010

Madurai Messenger April 2010

A Changing ArtTheatre and Folklore

in Tamil Nadu

Passionate Artistes

Shadow Puppeteer: Lakshman Rao

Street Theatre Activist: Palaniapillai

Actor-DirectorParnab Mukherjee:

Hind Swaraj

Supported by:

VOLUME 1 ISSUE 5 APRIL 2010


ContentsIssue No. 5 April 2010

Editor’s Corner All the World’s a Stage 3

Overview Art in Times of Change 4Readers Response 5

FeaturedKaragattam: Romantics’ Balancing Act 6Oyilattam: Art as Bridge 8Therukoothu: The People’s Art 9Poikal Kudhirai, the Stilt Horse Dance 10

ArtistesA. Palaniapillai: All for a Cause 11Lakshman Rao: Lighting the Shadow 13

Play ReviewVoices of Dissent 15

AcademicsJ. Vasanthan: A Man for All Seasons 17Face to Face with Dr. Sundar Kali 18Street Theatre: Instrument of Social Change 19R. Prabhakar: Cinema has Displaced Theatre 21

Weekend WanderRameshwaram Ramblings 22

CultureThe Sacred and the Ordinary 24

PeopleA. Irudayaraj: Voice of the Voiceless 27

Making a DifferenceThe Sky is Not the Limit 29

EditorNandini Murali

Assisted byEzhil ElangoMedia Relations Officer

CoordinatorJoel Powel Abraham

Sivakasi Projects Abroad Pvt.Ltd.

Reporters Aimee BoosKate ButlerDonna MarksKerry KitchinLucy MerchantJan BrauneSze Chun (JC) ChanAnders StaalChristophe Lemaire

ContactMadurai MessengerNo. 7 TPK RoadPasumalaiMadurai 625004Tamil NaduIndia

Tel. [email protected]

Cover PhotoSze Chun Chan (J.C)

Cover Design Kate Butler

LayoutJan Braune


Editor s Corner

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All the World’s a StageAll that I desire to point out is the general principle that life imitates art far more than art imitates life

Oscar Wilde

When Madurai Messenger (formerly Times of Madurai) decided to devote this issue to a theatre special (to commemorate World Theatre Day on March 27), we had an unexpected opportunity to watch the play Hind Swaraj (based on Mahatma Gandhi’s book of the same name written in 1908) performed by Parnab Mukherjee and Cordis Paldano at the Madurai Messenger office.

Hind Swaraj was an unusual play in more ways than one. The audience consisted of a group of 25 people seated in a semi circle. The two lead actors deftly used this intimate inner space as their ‘stage’. As the play unfolded Parnab Mukherjee and Cordis Paldano effortlessly juxtaposed the past and present; the global and the local through a series of never before seen film footage, photographs, monologues, or reactions to a text. They conveyed the sub texts of Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj clearly and provocatively. We were in a state of animated disbelief. The energy was palpable. Individually and collectively we reacted to the text. Many of us felt angry. Others violated. Some ashamed. We experienced intense emotions.

The actors stirred still ponds. The cobwebs festooning our vision floated by in wisps and we ‘saw’ and ‘heard’- in ways never before. Barriers dissolved and the performers and the audience were One. When I watched the performance at another setting later in the day the actor (Mukherjee) reinvented his lines in response to local realities. If it was the issue of illegal immigrants in a global context, it was racial and ethnic identity in another- the repertoire was as inexhaustible as the com-plexities and contradictions of being human in an increasingly inhuman world.

This sparked off another theatre-related memory dating back to my childhood. As a ten-year-old I was unaware of the legendary reputation of Geoffrey and Laura Kendall when they performed The Merchant of Venice at the school where I studied in Madras (now Chennai). It did not matter to me that the British couple with their company Shakespearana tra-velled throughout the country and had staged nearly 1000 productions of Shakespearean plays and other classics. It was only much later that I realised I had had the privilege of watching the Kendalls perform. But what mattered to me was the ability of the actors to connect with the audience. Geoffrey Kendal’s intense stage presence and piercing blue eyes struck an electric chord with us. We related to the play- each of us in our own ten-year-old ways, I suppose. Today despite the intervening decades I still recall his booming voice as he exhorted us to request our parents to take us to Venice and Genoa- “two of the most exciting cities on earth.”

Today whenever I witness theatre in its varied forms- be it traditional theatre, classical theatre or contemporary theatre- it’s all about connecting with the audience through our shared heritage of stories and experiences.

“Your reaction to a text can be a play in itself,” said Parnab Mukherjee later to me. “All conversation is theatre, but with a character it becomes a script.” In that sense, life is art; and art life.

Nandini Murali

Times of Madurai will henceforth appear as Madurai Messenger


Introduction

Art in Times of Change

The son of shadow puppeteer Lakshman Rao is the heir to a dying art. Or at least that’s what Mr. Prabhakar, Professor of Tamil Language and Literature at American College in Madurai would say. He has watched an increasing number of university students abandon the field of theatre and traditional folk performance for the modern arts of film and television.

Rao proudly comes from a long line of puppeteers who have spent their lives travelling and performing in small communities for little pay and often for pots, pans and food. The puppets he owns, made of ornately painted cowhide and sticks, are nearly one hundred years old and have been passed down through generations. His art, along with numerous other folk art forms, are actually flourishing in Tamil Nadu, but mostly remain limited to rural families and communities. Along with puppeteering, there’s the pot dance Karagattam, the twirling dance of Oyilattam, the peacock dance of Mayilat-tam, and the “false horse” dance of Poikalkudhirai, among many others. Even more fascinating than the dances themsel-ves- and their mysteriously specific names- are the histories behind them.

Take Karagattam, a dance in which men balance colourful pots on their heads to attract women. We watched as the dance was performed in, the small but vibrant centre of Ayyur, a small village outside of Madurai, with what seemed like hundreds of villagepeople watching. There’s also the musical Therukoothu, a genre of street theatre traditionally performed in villages during religious festivals during the Tamil months of Panguni and Aadi. Therukoothu performers typically interact with the audience in addition to singing, dancing, and acting. Today Therukoothu, along with many other Tamil folk art forms, is performed on stage- destroying as it seems, that classic connection between the performer and the audience.

Folk art is changing, no doubt. In our developing world, as Prof. Prabhakar points out, it is less common for students to take an interest in traditional arts. But though it has moved out of the realm of popular culture, folk theatre continues to thrive in the Hindu tradition of live and colourful performances, especially in Tamil Nadu. In his interview, Dr. Sundar Kali, Professor of Tamil Arts, Gandhigram University in Dindigul elaborated on the remaining vibrance of folk theatre in this lively Indian region.

“In places in the West, folk art is preserved behind glass in museums,” he said, “But in Tamil Nadu it is still performed as part of religious ceremonies. It is still very much alive.” And it’s not just in community and religious traditions in which folk theatre lives. Modern Indian media, particularly in the South, is deeply connected to the region’s traditional theatre roots.

Indian cinema is tied to traditional folk theatre for its music and dance segments, both within the plotlines or for purely entertainment purpo-ses. The length of the films is likely connected as well- many folk theatre performances can continue for hours, divided by song and dance routines.

Beyond the mainstream, the more intimate street and protest genres of theatre are heavily influenced by the connection between the au-dience and the performers found in folk theatre. They, like folk performers, harness the viewers’ imagination and attention by performing live in more intimate spaces- in the street, in an office, or in a university classroom.We watch as folk elements move to the staged and political theatre scenes and as some as-pects, traditionally passed down through gene-rations, begin to fade.

But though they are different, both contempora-ry theatre people and traditional performers ag-ree that there are some elements of a live per-

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Kate Butler traces some of the challenges faced by traditional folk theatre forms of Tamil Nadu in a contemporary context. Buffeted by winds of change, the ability to be open to change portends its future. Will this become a museum piece or reinvent itself while being anchored in tradition?

Town citizens help to prepare colorful pots for Karagattam Pot Dance. (Photo by JC Chan)


formance that cannot be transferred to the screen. There is the intimacy between the performer and audience, the lively atmosphere, and the room for imagination that theatre can leave with its often minimal set.

In this issue of Madurai Messenger, a theatre special to commemorate World Theatre Day on March 27, we have profiled the Kolkotta based “neo-folk” director, performer, and social activist Parnab Mukherjee, shadow puppeteer Lakshman Rao, street theatre activist and singer A. Pala-niapillai besides several well-known theatre activists from Madurai such as Prof. J. Vasanthan, Dr. Margaret Kalaiselvi, Dr. Sundar Kali, and Prof. Prabhakar. Under our new name, we are pleased to honour the new old- and still very much alive- Tamil folk theatre forms in this issue.

Kate ButlerNorth Carolina, USA

A musician demonstrates his prowess at drums in preparation for a festival in Ayyur.

Introduction

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Readers Respond First of all, let me congratulate you and your team and the fantastic work done in Times of Madurai. Every page is so inte-resting and informative to read. The sincerity with which the team works is reflected well in the magazine. So many varied topics and areas of public interest are well discussed and this makes the readers to expect the arrival of the next issue!! The quality of the magazine has recently been given a good face lift which makes it more endearing to read. I congratulate whole heartedly the team effort for making it a “joyful reading”.

And in the recent issue, discussing the contribution of certain personalities of Madurai to society is very well chosen. All of them have opened up their minds and heart to the interviewers and each article is with so much life and information.

R.Rajkumari,Executive director,

M.S. Chellamuthu Trust

I’m a journalist working for the Italian daily newspaper “La Stampa”. During a recent trip to Madurai, last February, I hap-pened to read your magazine in order to better understand some aspects of the political landscape in Tamil Nadu. That material would be very very useful in case I had to write a report about my experience in your Country. Thank you in ad-vance for your kind attention.All the best

Ugo Magri,Italy

The magazine was good. I liked your editorial. What I found interesting is that you have sketched the women who are tra-ditional yet have had the courage to be different.

Dr Lakshmi Family Health and Development Research Service Foundation


Featured

Karagattam: Romantics‘ Balancing ActSze Chun Chan (JC) traces the origin and contemporary status of Karagattam,

a popular Tamil folk dance that acts as social glue binding people together

Fine dining, wine, flowers. Charming, sophisticated gentleman with a woman in high heels. As long as movies and television have been around, produc-ers and writers have spun countless tales of romance. These objects have long been the cliché classic hallmarks of dating in the Western world.

For a tribe in the mountainous Western Ghats in South India, a statement of ro-mance is one of graceful movements, a symphony of perfectly coordinated steps, a white outfit adorned with a rainbow assortment of flowers, and an ironclad neck capable of balancing a 10 kg clay pot. For them, the dating game is stealing glances and looking for that special somebody amongst a cheering village crowd at the annual Mariamman festival to honour the Hin-

du goddess of fertility, Mariamman.

A Balancing Act One of the most important folk danc-es in Tamil Nadu is Karagattam.It is a Tamil dance performed either solo or as a team with a heavy pot decorated with flowers balanced on their heads. A life-time of backbreaking dedication is not just the prerequisite to becoming one of the most skilled Karagattam dancers in India, but also in their tradition that the best dancers are the most worthy husbands. P. Sekar, 25, shields him-self away from the midday sun. He is a handsome man dressed in a crisp, pat-terned shirt and khakis. Modest com-pared to the garish multicolored outfit of flowers and feathers he adorned in yesterday’s Sandana Koodu festival. It is a quiet day for the ninth generation

dancer in a family tradition that stretch-es back more than 400 years. His fam-ily relative and dance team leader, A. Kannan, 36, is a source of inspiration for him because he had wooed his wife by impressing her parents with his dancing skills. P. Sekar too, wishes to woo a bride worthy of a Tamil movie romance.

Passing a Legacy Together, the two dancers live and breathe dance and hope to pass on a Tamil tradition that dates back three thousand years. In ancient times, Kara-gattam (pot dance) began as a means to relax from hunting and gathering. It was also meant as an honour to the gods, specifically as an act preparing to cleanse and cool the Hindu goddess Amman so that her entrance will im-

A. Kannan (l) and P. Sekar (r) are ninth generation performers of Karagattam, a pot dance honouring the Hindu goddess Mariamman. (Photo by JC Chan)

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prove fertility across the land.

The dance involves balancing an intri-cately detailed pot filled with sand and water as the dancers perform a syn-chronised movement of turns and ac-robatics. Drums prelude the cleansing, a cacophony of noise to get the atten-tion of the gods. When the ritual was first formed, it was just first the drums but no dancing was involved.

Eventually, the ritual evolved as people started to feel and move to the rhythm. The dance became an art form that to-day defines the two dancer’s tradition and makes up their livelihood. To them as artistes, dance is ultimately a hu-man art form that anybody can enjoy.

Bridging Barriers “Our main purpose is to entertain,” A. Kannan said. “We perform for anybody regardless of caste or religion, so we have no problem performing for Mus-lims.”

P. Sekar and A. Kannan like to see peo-ple of all castes gather during festival time and they are sad to still see India plagued by the caste system. The caste system in India is a bigger social bar-rier than religion. It is not as visible as friction between different religions like the Muslim-Hindu riots that simmered in India ever since it’s independence. Many parts of rural India are still plagued by the belief that Indians are born into a caste forever and should accept his or her place in life. For the young P. Sekar, dance and art tran-scend any petty conflict that people have over religion or caste. They per-form to unite people, even if only for the little time they get together to watch their performance.

Art for Art’s Sake“At the festival, all will be celebrating, eating, and enjoying together,” P. Sekar said. Regarding the status of the caste system in India, A. Kannan brought up Darwin’s evolutionary theory and asks,

“The caste system is human made and it is not a good thing. What about the caste system before people were here?” When asked about the friction between Pakistan and India, the two dancers point to the fact that the two communi-ties are living together peacefully here,

but for some people that don’t, they would have to change their mindsets.

“We are artistes at heart,” said A. Kan-nan. “And an artiste’s purpose is to perform and entertain people, regard-less of who they are or where they’re from.”

The Mariamman festival is in April. P. Sekar smiles and vouches to practice hard. Perhaps he may find that special someone this time around.

Sze Chun Chan (JC)New York City, US

Featured

A nimble Karagattam dancer performs a balancing act during the Muslim Sandana Koodu festival in Madurai.

(Photo by JC Chan)

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I regard the theatre as the gre-atest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a hu-man being can share with ano-ther the sense of what it is to be a human being.

Oscar Wilde

All the best performers bring to their role something more, something different than what the author put on paper. That‘s what makes theatre live. That‘s why it persists.

Stephen Sondheim


Featured

Oyilattam: Art as BridgeAt a performance of Oyilattam, the popular folk dance of Tamil Nadu,

Lucy Merchant marvels at the ability of art to transcend barriers of religion and caste and seamlessly unite people.

Oyilattam is a colourful Tamil folk dance that is performed at festivals and celebrations. It is an ancient tradition that has been passed down through generations. Folklore artistes A. Kan-nan, 36, P. Sekar, 25, and S. Balaji, 23, are the ninth generation of their family to pursue this art form. The family has been dancing for the last four hundred and fifty years. And, having been ac-complished enough to start performing at the age of 13, the level of skill is out-standing, and captivating to watch.

All Set for the Show I went to the Muslim festival of San-dana Koodu, (an annual festival in mosques) in the village of Ayyur, in Alanganallur, where the performance was taking place with little idea of what to expect. ‘Oyilattam,’ in Tamil means ‘dance of beauty or grace.’ The dancers had sparkling make-up on their faces, and colourful, decorated clothes, with bells tied around the ankles, and a red sash around their waists.

A Kinetic Dance The dance is performed on the floor, with the audience forming a circle. The dancers stand in two rows, and be-gin dancing in rhythmic steps. As the drum beats faster, the dancers speed up, twirling cloths in their hands. These cloths are specific to Oyilattam, and they are in honour of two Hindu gods – on the left, the green cloth is for Vish-nu; and on the right, the red cloth is

for the goddess Amman. The dance is introduced with song, and the singing continues to accompany the dancers throughout the performance, and is later joined by cym-bals, bass drums and wind instruments as well. When the dance began, everyone stopped what they were doing and gathered around together to watch, the children lining the edges of the circle at in-tervals having to be shooed

away for edging dangerously close the dancers’ feet.

Vehicle of Everyday Concerns Folk artistes across Tamil Nadu have tribal origins– previous generations lived in the mountains and came down to the villages to earn money, their traditional occupation being hunting. Dance, at this time, was used as an escape, a way of relaxing at the end of a hard day’s work. It makes sense, therefore, that Oyilattam is in fact a dance about agriculture– the moves represent different stages of farming, the first being the act of throwing the seeds and planting, another of har-vesting and of tying the harvest. The songs that accompany the dance nar-rate these actions, explaining them as the dance goes along. Traditionally, all have been able to perform Oyilattam, men and women, and this is still true today; when appropriate, the women will also take part. Nowadays, the dance is often adapted as a means of telling a tale, usually the ancient Tamil epics Ramayana and Mahabharata, both ancient stories central to Tamil and Hindu culture.

Unity through Art Although Oyilattam is a Hindu dance, the folklore artistes will perform for all people, regardless of their religion or their caste. It is purely entertainment and there is no barrier to any audi-ence; the appeal of folklore acts has

a wide reach. As these artistes see it, festivals are a symbol of unity and of bringing people together, something they seemed to succeed in, watching the whole village of Ayyur join together in enjoyment at their festival.

Folk Dance in a Contemporary ContextFolk dance is also increasingly being used to create new employment op-portunities. The Indian government and various NGOs are now actively supporting traditional folk arts, for ex-ample, the Tamil Maiyam and the Tamil Nadu Tourism Department. University courses in traditional arts and folklore are springing up, bringing awareness of this aspect of Tamil culture to young generations. Hence folklore artistes are confident their traditions are not dying out. Instead, they are increas-ing in popularity and gaining in status, viewed now on an equal level with clas-sic dances such as Bharatha Natyam.

Tamil folklore dance seems alive and well, and as I experienced, widely en-joyed by all levels of society and all ages. People are very in touch with their history and their ancient culture here, that it seems there is hope this will be maintained for years to come. Traditional arts are still very much en-joyed by both the artistes and the au-diences; they are not something from past times performed for nostalgia, but still current, and now with governmen-tal support hopefully Oyilattam will be being performed for years to come, as this sort of entertainment has an au-thenticity and immediacy that is not present in newer forms of entertain-ment, such as modern cinema. There is certainly still a place and demand for traditional folklore arts here in Madu-rai, at least, and the atmosphere and excitement that we experienced at the festival in Ayyur will surely not be re-placed.

Lucy MerchantDorset, UK

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A crew of oyilattam dancers. (Photo by JC Chan)


Featured

Therukoothu: The People’s ArtAnders Staal speaks to Dr I. Muthiah,

Professor and Head, Department of Folk Arts, Madurai Kamaraj University, and traces the history of Therukoothu, a traditional art form in Tamil Nadu.

Although an ancient art form, Theru-koothu is responsive to social changes and thereby ensures that it will live on and not be relegated to the status of a dying or forgotten art.

Therukoothu is more than a traditional art form- it is a tradition of great so-cial and religious importance relevant to agriculture and village life. Theru-koothu, meaning street theatre, has its roots in isai (music) and natyam (drama), and combines these elements to become a vibrant combination of music and dance theatre called koothu. Therukoothu is primarily performed in the northern and central districts of Tamil Nadu, where every district and area has its own characteristics in terms of how they adapt the play to the local traditions. Therukoothu has its

counterparts in Southern India– Yak-shagana in Karnataka, Veethinataka in Andhra Pradesh and Kathakali in Ker-ala. They all have similar performance texts, themes, costumes, team mem-bers, and round performance spaces, or kalari.

Social and Religious ImpotanceTherukoothu is generally part of a re-ligious ritual in villages during the re-ligious festivals in the Tamil months of Panguni, (March-April) and Aadi (July-August), when there is not much agri-cultural work. Therukoothu has differ-ent purposes, so the koothu is adapted to beliefs with regard to certain things. For example, after harvest Theru-koothu is performed, and by worship-ping the god through the koothu, the god will reward the village with copious

rain so the next harvest will be good.

Therukoothu also serves other functions. People gather around the kolari, where they talk, eat and sleep, as the play typi-cally from around 9 pm until sunrise. People can forget their problems for a night and concentrate on the play and the celebra-tion. Sometimes mar-riage arrangements are also done. In this way the people are united, con-nections established, and the individuals meet their psychological and social needs. The event there-fore benefits the village biologically and socially as grain production and successful child births increase during these months.

The PerformanceThe kalari or round per-formance space has a

very important function as there are no boundaries between the perform-ers and the audience. This means it is a performance for and by the people. Before the play begins, the performers go around the crowd and introduce the different characters. Sometimes there will be a ‘clown sequence’, where a ‘clown’ mingles with the audience. This creates a light hearted atmosphere. People can go into the kalari and give the performers money or make loud ovations if they are satisfied with the play.

Therukoothu is generally based on stories from the great epics of Mahab-harata and Ramayana. Because of the length of the play people will sleep and eat during the performances. They, however, wake each other up when funny or important sequences occur. This is an integral part of attending Therukoothu, and it is not problem-atic because all people know the sto-ries very well, as the same stories are performed year after year. This sense of the expected and its democratic appeal is one of Therukoothu’s great strengths- it is for everyone and no de-mands are placed on the audience.

Therukoothu is performed by six or seven male performers. This entails storytelling, dialogue, dance and sing-ing, so the men have to be skilled in all aspects. They also enact the women characters in the play. It is a belief that women “pollute’’ the religious ritual if they are one of the performers. The performers’ appearance is very stylised. They wear high head dresses, sparkling shoulder plates and wide colourful skirts. The put on spectacular make up, which symbolises the power of the characters. The orchestra consists of a mukhaveena (string instrument) and a mridangam (drum).

At Crossroads Today, Therukoothu is mostly per-formed on stage, which means it is los-

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The costumes of Therukoothu are bright and expressive.(Photo: Internet)


ing some of its purpose as a barrier is now created between performers and audience. However whilst traditional Therukoothu is a dying art, it has been able to adapt naturally into current the-atre and cinema. This is positive when one considers that European tradtioanl theatre did not survive the advent of modernity.

Awareness of Therukoothu is also created through publications and documentaries and youth are still be-ing trained in this art form as it has adapted to modern interests. For in-stance, new stories and themes have been added to the traditional ones. A further development is that women are now performing, although only when the themes are secular. If the issue or story is religious in nature, it is still only the men who perform. It seems that Therukoothu has grown and developed while retaining its basic form it now ap-peals to broader audience. It is clear that when art is responsive to chang-ing times this ensures it will live on like Therukoothu.

Anders StaalDragoer, Denmark

Featured

Poikal Kudhirai, the Stilt Horse Dance

Christophe Lemaire discovered the Poikal Kudhirai as a link between tradition and entertainment. This dance expresses both

folk and physical art.

A Recent InventionIn contrast to many traditional dances, Poikal Kudhirai has a recent history. It came into existence in imitation of the behaviour of this animal domesticated and trained by humans since ancient history. This folk art consists of a repro-duction of the movements and running of the horse. Due to its recent inven-tion, this dance is not actually a pure form of religious performance but rath-er a simple entertainment for people. Performed during all kinds of festivals, this art is more recognised as a new business, almost an easy way to earn money. However, make no mistake; this dance is undoubtedly one of the most difficult dances.

An artistic and physical perfor-manceThe dance is performed with at least a man and a woman, but is often accom-panied by other dancers and musicians. During the show, the most impressive part of the performance is perfect con-trol of the stilts used to walk and dance.

These wooden legs, which represent the hooves of the horse, sometimes measure more than one metre. The mastery of these artificial legs requires a very long and daily training. To rep-resent themselves as horse riders, the dancers put on the coloured dummy of a body horse on their hips as if they are sitting on them.

This is authentic entertainment. The costumes add to the sense of danger and this is a reality as the regular leg injuries sustained by the performers demonstrate. Perfroming toi the sound of band music called Naiyandi Melam, the dancers stand and balance on these wooden legs which are hidden by beautiful coloured tissues. At the same time any type of music can be played by the band in accordance with the goal of entertainment.

Two Types of RepresentationsThere are two kinds of representations during the performance of Poikal Kud-hirai. In the first one, which is the most common, the male dancer portrays Ayyanar, a Hindu god worshipped as a guardian deity in rural Tamil Nadu.

This god protects villages against de-mons and evil gods, hence the riding of a horse as a real weapon. Furthermore, while performing and also to defend villagers, the dancers can brandish a sword or a whip. These symbols of punishment can also be handled by a king, the second kind of representation in Poikal Kudhirai.

Christophe LemaireParis, France

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(Photo: Internet)

I personally would like to bring a tortoise onto the stage, turn it into a racehorse, then into a hat, a song, a dragoon and a fountain of water. One can dare anything in the theatre and it is the place where one dares the least.

Eugene Ionesco

It is a hopeless endeavour to at-tract people to a theatre unless they can be first brought to be-lieve that they will never get in.

Charles Dickens

A theatre, a literature, an artistic expression that does not speak for its own time has no relevan-ce.

Dario Fo


Artistes

A.Palaniapillai: All for a CauseAnders Staal meets street theatre activist and singer A. Palaniapillai

and is impressed by the artiste’s commitment to social causes

For performer and singer A. Palaniapil-lai, the world’s a stage. His sensitivity for social issues is sufficient raw ma-terial for his imagination to transform it into a song or street play. He thus strikes a chord with his audience; most of them from rural communities. His range is diverse: exploitation of tribals, problems of working children, empow-erment of women, HIV/AIDS aware-ness, total sanitation, education for all, blood donation, coping with natural disasters (post tsunami), Bhopal Gas Tragedy, rain water harvesting, resto-ration of forest wealth- Palaniapillai is clearly a man with a mission.

Currently Palaniapillai is Co-coordina-tor, Resource and Training Centre of Centre for Social Reconstruction (CSR), a development organisation based in Nagercoil. Today A. Palaniapillai is syn-onymous for his extensive contribution towards fostering awareness of HIV/AIDS. Through the District Level Cul-tural Team Training workshop in Kan-yakumari he also organises and per-forms cultural shows at the Red Ribbon Express in Nagercoil where the inter-view was conducted. At 46, Palaniapil-lai knows what he is doing. It certainly has been a long walk across three de-cades for this artiste since he first par-ticipated in a street play in 1983.

Inspired by LifeQuestioned about his inspiration, it was Palaniapillai is the fifth of six children and grew up in Bhoothapandi in Kan-yakumari district. His father Arunacha-lam Pillai was an ex-serviceman who was part of the British Army during World War II, and his mother, Valliam-mal, a home maker. Palaniapillai has al-ways been fascinated with performing. By the age of 10, he and his friends would take empty coconut store boxes and execute the movements of Poikal Kudhirai, the stilt horse dance. Unable to continue studies beyond Plus 2, Palaniappillai, motivated by his

“desire to serve society,” joined Educa-

tion for Workers’ Development, an NGO that worked with trib-als and bonded labourers in Coimbatore. Through a Non Formal Education (NFE) pro-gramme, Palaniapillai provid-ed education to the tribals in Valparai area. He completed higher secondary and then he started his “education in life”. In other words, Palaniapillai believed it was not necessary to study at a fine arts school to succeed in a fine arts field.

Encouraged by organic scien-tist K. Nammalwar and Tamil writer, journalist and theatre person Gnani, Palaniapil-lai composed his first song Maatuvandi Otikittu (Driving the cattle cart) and this was published in the newsletter of Federation of Action Groups, a collective of NGOs.

Although he was performing street plays even then, at-tending a street theatre work-shop conducted by playwright and street theatre pioneer, Badal Sircar, was a turning point.

Having participated in several of Badal Sircar’s Street Theatre Workshops, he was inspired to develop his own style of performing. It was not only acting which appealed to him, he also be-gan writing poems and songs. To date, he has composed and sung over 100 songs in Tamil on HIV/AIDS. He also writes songs and performs on diverse social issues.

Recently the Tamil Nadu State Govern-ment asked Palaniapillai to write the of-ficial song for the State Government’s AIDS awareness programme, a request he feels honoured to have received. Palaniapillai’s inspiration for performing stems through his wish to serve soci-ety. He follows the changes in society’s

problems, and educates and makes people aware through speeches, mu-sic and theatre. But it is not Palaniapil-lai alone- it is the strength of teamwork and peoples’ willingness which makes it possible.

Voice of SocietyLinking music and street theatre to-gether is how Palaniapillai reaches out to society. He believes that street theatre brought about an increase in awareness about several issues. It is art for the ordinary people. The people who are in charge, he tells me, notice important matters concerning them and ultimately this awareness makes it possible for them to access their rights. Because street theatre has no stage, there are no boundaries between the audience and actors. You have direct contact to the audience, the perfor-

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Palaniapillai at a street theatre workshop in Kanyakumari in March 2010.

(Photo by Aimee Boos)


mance moves into peoples’ personal sphere, and an emotional impact is created.

Going with the FlowPalaniapillai’s vibrant personality was evident through his expansive nature and expressive gestures. He demon-strated several techniques of acting. He emoted with his eyes. When he acts with a group they use no make-up and wear ordinary clothe- a stark contrast to the exaggerated appear-ance of traditional folk theatre. He said it is all about the eyes, body language and voice modulation: Certainly less is more.

Palaniapillai forgets about everything when he gets into character. As he said, ‘’You have to be like that’’. He becomes what he acts. After a perfor-mance he is still in a state of ecstasy, a post performance adrenaline high. He is reflecting over his work. There is not much difference in the acting and pri-vate person of Palaniapillai, performing and reflecting works as a mechanism. When I asked about what he thinks of

his work and what sparks his creativ-ity, his unexpected response startled me. He picked up a leaf and started singing about it. Through his song, he gave life to the leaf, as he gives life to so many other things in form of aware-ness, hope and joy.

He can improvise and sing about ev-erything, but there has to be a mes-sage, which can make an improvement in society. Accordng to him with ex-pereince you break down your person-al boundaries and then creativity flows. He also explained that he never feels bad about his work or has any doubts, and is backed by a great team who support one another significantly.

A Sensitive and Caring PersonCentre for Social Reconstruction (CSR) where Palaniapillai is currently em-ployed, provides him the creative space to flower as an artiste. He could have made loads of money if he had chosen the commercial way. Instead he chose to serve society. He is a good parent, but currently has problems with raising enough money for his daughter’s mar-

riage. He hopes that sales of his CDs can give the financial support needed. It is not for personal reward, but to pro-vide for his family.

Palaniapillai is a sensitive and caring person. There have been unforgettable moments in his life which mirror this. He mentioned Mother Teresa’s death as a sad occurrence because he con-siders her as inspirational.

Another moment was the tsunami on December 26, 2004, which he de-scribes as a miserable and sad mo-ment for humanity. He was away from Nagercoil where he lives, when the tsunami occurred. Palaniapillai rushed back, and when he saw what had hap-pened he immediately wrote a song about it. All India Radio broadcast the song the next day and it made it pos-sible for the public to express their sor-row.

Social ConcernsPalaniapillai’s current work not only raises awareness on vital social issues but also gives a voice and hope for in-

Artistes

12

Anders Staal and Ezhil Elango listen as Palaniapillai discusses his current activist work. (Photo by Aimee Boos)


Artistes

13

Lighting the ShadowSze Chun Chan (JC) meets Lakshman Rao, a fifth generation

shadow puppeteer, who shares with him his struggle to keep an ancient art form alive in the modern age.

“Hello, brother,” a grizzled man speaks in a deep voice, mimicking the speech of a harlequin figurine in front of his face.

“Welcome, welcome!” it nods.

Heir to a Tradition It is a scorching day in Tamil Nadu and the sun bakes earth and leather. The leather is not new, but it is meticulously painted. Lakshman Rao, a fifth genera-tion shadow puppeteer, doesn’t take the mythical figures out as often as he would like. He proudly exhibits his col-lection of leather hand made puppets. Some of them are over a hundred years old. His father, grandfather, and great grandfathers have painted them all by hand.

Typically, Rao keeps them in a card-board box safe from excessive sunlight and moisture, but not today. When he’s not struggling to earn food for his wife and four boys, he is fighting hard to keep an ancient form of theatre and his bloodline’s legacy alive.

“Shadow puppetry gave birth to cinema and television.” Rao says, twirling a red kazoo in hand, a simple music instru-ment used for sound effects.

Behind the Scenes In Tamil, the art of shadow puppetry is called Thol Pavai Koothu, which means

“Leather Puppet Show” when trans-lated. It is an ancient form of theatre that involves the manipulation of hand puppets behind a translucent screen. A scene has the performer mimick-ing dialogue as he is moving puppets. Meanwhile, other performers will pro-duce claps of drums in rhythm, and sound effects from the whizzing of ar-rows to the dull clacks of brick shoes for fight scenes.

Pavai Koothu originated around 1025 AD in Southern India as a theatre form to tell Hindu myths. The art peaked when it became nightly evening en-

tertainment for the Maharajas of India. One of Lakshman Rao’s favorite plays to perform is Ramayana, a classic Hindu myth about an intense rivalry between Rama and Ravana. When Rama’s brother Lakshman, who shares his name with Rao, was pierced by a poison arrow shot by Ravana, the mon-key faced god Hanuman, tore up and carried an entire mountain with reme-dial herbs just to save him.

Shadow of its Chic CousinsOnce a theatre form that thrilled and enchanted villages across the states of Andhra Pradesh, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, and Karnataka, Shadow Puppetry has since taken a backseat to the glamour of modern day film and cinema. Even though it is easy to argue cinema as an evolution of shadow puppetry, the two arts are quite dissimilar.

“When you see a shadow play at night in the dark and there are shadows in-volved, it’s very unique,” says Dr. R. Bhanumathi, Managing Trustee at the Pavai Centre for Puppetry, Chennai.

“Shadow has its own feelings when co-lours come out.”

Hard TimesOne time the entertainment of kings and a jewel of antiquated Tamil culture, shadow puppetry today is limited to en-tertaining school children and college students in cultural festivals. Rao per-forms for this crowd and depends on it for a living, but he struggles to find the next gig. This is the way that his forefathers have lived. They performed for kings and villages and were in turn paid in foodstuff. These travelling per-formers never had much but a cart of puppets and rice, but times have changed and it’s even harder to eat.

The audience enjoying the plays today is a trickle as compared to the flood of entire villages and kingdoms that used to watch their performances. Rao and his family are currently living in mud

dividuals and groups. This was evident in his contributions to the Red Ribbon Express event in Nagercoil. The Red Ribbon Express message this year was created to inform and promote state council centres for AIDS.

Writing songs on socially relevant themes such as HIV/AIDS sounds de-ceptively simple. For one, it demands a sound grounding in medical and tech-nical details and empathy with several marginalised sections such as female sex workers, transgender, men with sex with men, intravenous drug users, and people living with HIV/AIDS. Palaniapillai also has a rapport with such groups who talk to him without reserve about their core concerns. As coordi-nator for the Advocacy programme in Thoothukudi and Kanyakumari districts, he is involved in advocacy efforts with police department in trying to de stig-matise the so-called high risk groups and enable law enforcing authorities to treat them with dignity and empathy.

A. Palaniapillai is the recipient of the Chudar Mani Award and Best Social Worker Award (2009) for Public Health and HIV by the district administration. His parting message:

‘’All people should take an AIDS test be-fore marriage.’’

Anders StaalDragoer, Denmark

Applause begets applause in the theatre, as laughter begets laughter and tears beget tears.

Clayton Hamilton

The drama is not dead but liveth, and contains the germs of better things.

William Archer

Drama lies in extreme exagge-ration of the feelings, an exag-geration that dislocates flat eve-ryday reality.

Eugene Ionesco


and palm leaf huts on government owned land. He says he gets booted about every ten years from a locale. Meanwhile, the Indian government does give support to these families, but even banks are scared to give them loans fearing they will never repay.

“Villages use to believe that shadow puppeteers bring prosperity and luck.” Bhanumathi says. “But in mod-ern times, those thoughts are slowly changing.”

Wandering ArtistesIn Kerala, shadow puppetry is being kept alive because it is often used in religious gatherings to tell the stories of the Hindu god, Rama. Because the theatre art serves a purpose as a Hin-du storytelling device, the Kerala per-formers enjoy more stability.

Other states of Southern India have its own unique variations of shadow pup-petry. The most famous includes life sized five feet mythological puppets from Andhra Pradesh.

As shadow puppetry is a very localised and rural art, it does not get much of a following in cities, but is limited to spo-radic performances in small villages. Worst, the performing families, with about 100 in Andhra Pradesh, and smaller in other states, are now scat-tered. They each consider themselves to be better performers than the other and live destitute, almost nomadic lives, traveling by carting their puppets from village to village, looking for a chance to perform.

“The world is developing, and they have to develop their theatre form with it.” Bhanumathi says. “They are not united. And have rivalries of who is best. It is also a male dominated art; the women only play musical instruments. Like all art forms, it may be gone as the world moves beyond it.”

The Show Must Go On Rao’s children gathered around in a semicircle as his sons set up the sta-ge. He readies a large screen, about 5 foot wide and 4 foot deep. Behind it

are not film spools or light boxes or any sort of electrical gobbledygook, but un-adulterated afternoon sun. A teenager readies a hammer and an iron stake and steadily digs a small hole. Another of his sons stretches the cloth screen across an iron frame.

Rao’s wife readies at his side, cymbal s in hand. He takes a breath behind the screen as he gathers his leather ac-tors, actresses, and props. The village children patiently wait. Rao puts on his earthen clapping shoes (when charac-ters fight), a kazoo at side (for flying ar-rows and various projectiles). He tests the shoes. (They clap.) And his kazoo. (It sounds like the call of geese).

Everything is good to go. Rao is hap-py, at least for this day. He has an au-dience. And he is keeping the art form alive, at least for a little while longer.

Sze Chun Chan (JC)New York City, US

Artistes

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Lakshman Rao displays his leather puppets, some of which are hand painted by his grandfather hundreds of years ago. (Photo by JC Chan)


Play Review

Voices of Dissent

On the floor of the Madurai Messenger office lies a mural of mangled arms painted in red and black. Behind it a projec-ted video shows ethnic minorities from northeast India with oriental features being beaten, kicked, shot, and tortured by law enforcement authorities. Parnab Mukherjee, actor and director, gazes at the screen.

“Who, why, when, how,” he asks. “Who, why, when, how…”

Mukherjee turns to a plastic bag and empties its contents. Out scatter flesh and blood coloured strips of cloth and the limbs and heads of baby dolls. He is performing in his alter-native production of Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj, a play based on Mahatma Gandhi’s seminal book written in 1908 during his voyage from South Africa to India. In this famous collection of essays, Gandhi called Indians to wake up and discover self-rule for themselves as they peacefully sought home rule under the oppressive English occupation. One hundred ye-ars after the book’s release, and over sixty years after India gained independence, Mukherjee’s intimate production of Hind Swaraj reminds us how relevant Gandhi’s message of independence is in our modern world.

Unbound by Labels A leading director in alternative theatre in India, Parnab Muk-herjee chose to bring Swaraj to the stage for the centenary of the book’s release. Coming from Kolkatta, Mukherjee has traveled throughout the country with Chennai based actor Cordis Paldano, performing Hind Swaraj at universities and in rural and urban communities. The play isn’t street theatre nor is it a staged performance, but instead Mukherjee utilises the intimate spaces he is gi-ven to emphasise the play’s message. “If these computers were not in use,” he tells me after the performance, pointing to a row of desks in the office, “I would put some images on the screens… [In this production] it’s about revealing the invisible signs of violence and oppression.”

As he plays the character Mohammad, Mukherjee pulls out a black fez before pressing ‘play’ on a montage of images from the Iraq war. Bob Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind is heard as photos of crying women, dead children, bombs, and run-ning soldiers flash by. The video ends and Cordis Paldano, playing a French Muslim named Sayid, steps out and catches the attention of several staff.

At a theatrical production of Hind Swaraj to coincide with the centenary of the epochal book by Mahatma Gandhi, Kate Butler is struck by the multiple voices of oppression the play unlocks as it

questions and challenges the notion of independence and identity in a global context

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An arm in mouth and toy in hand, actor and director Parnab Mukherjee does mocks of human rights abuse.(Photro by JC Chan)


“I’m French!” he exclaims, looking at the audience around him. “Do you believe me? Raise your hand if you’ve been to Paris.” Several hands go up. “I’m Parisian!” he exclaims, “My father is French and my Mother is from Morocco...but Sayid doesn’t sound quite like those [beautiful] French names…”

Sayid continues to speak on the difficulties he faced emigrating to Paris and finding work there as a Mus-lim immigrant. We see how Sayid’s life is ruled by oppressing elements around him whether they be difficulty finding work, discrimination from officials, or his hesitancy about his own origins. But how re-levant could a story about a Muslim Parisian be to Gandhi‘s Hind Swaraj? “To culturally represent a place we cannot use terms like refugee and displaced person- a political refugee without papers who doesn’t speak any language and so on,” said Muherjee in a later interview. “The suc-cessive nature of a population has made people open to the oppressive nature of civilization.” In other words, by showing the difficulties of the immigrant, Sayid’s story demonstrates the challenge of true independence.

Pushing the LimitsIn Hind Swaraj Mohammad hoots with laughter at the young Sayid’s words before breaking out into a passionate speech. As Mohammad discusses what he believes is the signifi-cance of Gandhi‘s Hind Swaraj to himself and to our socie-ty, he makes eye contact with audience members and sits down beside us as if he too was one of us, stirred emotio-nally by Gandhi’s message.

“Your reaction to a text can be a play in itself,” said Muk-herjee. “All conversation is theatre, but with a character it becomes a script.”

Such reactions aren’t the only non-conventional element in Hind Swaraj. To further spark conversations, the props of baby doll body parts, black cloth, and clown noses are used by Mukherjee and Paldano to mock the disregard for human dignity that Gandhi criticises in his essays. Nearly all of the photographs and videos included are graphic in their dis-play of shootings and violence, mangled dead bodies, and bombs, but Muherjee tells me he would never change that to accommodate a sensitive audience. So much is hidden from the public media, he says, and as an artiste he is doing his part to reveal it.

Mukherjee is, without doubt, a powerful performer and an effective director. But many would be surprised to disco-ver that Mukherjee actually studied economics in university, rather than theatre. The study of micro-credit and consump-tion patterns, he tells me, can be particularly tied to protest theatre that focuses on examining societal habits. “To pro-test is to look at people’s history- history that you and I are familiar with… There is always this conscience ‘ting’ towards a majority point of view, and naturally that point of view must be called into question.”

Challenging conventional perspectives has been Mukherjee’s focus since he began working in theatre twelve years ago. When he began writing and directing protest theatre in 1997, his productions were viewed as an experimental rather than as an established theatrical form. He seized creative free-dom over his productions early on, and no doubt has bene-fited artistically by working outside a prescribed theatrical genre. His use of various mediums in Hind Swaraj- be it film footage, photographs, monologues, or reactions to a text- conveyed the underlying message of Gandhi’s essays clearly and provocatively.

Today he considers his productions “Studio Theatre”, na-med for the way he takes over his given spaces like a per-formance studio. No longer labeled as a theatre outsider, he considers himself a “fringe in the mainstream”- an artist constantly pushing the limits of society through protest the-atre.

An AnswerAt the end of the forty-five minute production of Hind Swa-raj, Mukherjee drapes a black cloth over the lens of a projec-tor covering the graphic images of poverty and war.

“Who, why, when, how?” he asks again.

The answer? From the Mohammad character’s reactions to Gandhi‘s message, to the Sayid character’s exemplary road-block in realising his inherent liberty, and the provocative images from Northeast India and Iraq, Muherjee prompts his audience to consider how the freedom of citizens have been jeopardised in our increasingly developed world.

Mukherjee‘s Hind Swaraj draws no conclusions but presents a broad and inescapably relevant response: a loss of free-dom, life, and dignity can happen anywhere. We just can’t block it out of view.


Play Review

16

Actor Cordis Paldano delivers a powerful monologue. (Photo by JC Chan)

Madurai Messenger April 2010 17

Academics

J.Vasanthan: A Man for All SeasonsProf. J. Vasanthan, 74, former Professor of English in American College, is also a well known news-paper columnist, theatre director, writer, and cartoonist. Aimee Boos in a chat with Prof. Vasanthan

discovers that “age cannot wither him nor custom stale his infinite variety!”

A Visual SensibilityIn 1951, 15-year-old J. Vasanthan came to Madurai to join the interme-diate course in the American College. It also marked the beginning of his lifelong passion for theatre and films.

“With some friends, we used to go to the Regal Talkies, the only movie the-atre that showed English movies, from both Hollywood and Britain. I was fascinated by these Western mov-ies,” recalls Vasanthan. He fell in love with films and watching films became a ritual, but with the same excitement every time.

“We used to go there around three times a week. It didn’t matter if the films were good or not,” says Vasanthan.

Gradually he developed the ability to critique films and a cinematic sensibil-ity that later extended to theatre. His keen eye absorbed every detail of film making and acting. He wrote film re-views and drew cartoons for Filmfare, the oldest Indian film magazine. His cartoons also appeared in several other leading publications such as Star & Style, Debonair, Film Mirror, and Sports week. Later Vasanthan decided to devote a part of his life to directing plays in English. One of the first plays he staged was Mur-der in the Cathedral at Ma-dras Christian College in Chennai where he was a tutor in English.

The Curtain ClubA few years later, Professor Vasanthan moved from Madras Christian College to the American College in Madurai, as an English lecturer.

“There, I was expected to take over the Shansi plays of the Oberlin Shansi group,” says Vasanthan, “I did just that for a while.” The Shansi group was pri-marily composed of talented perform-ers such as Julian Smith, Sarah Lindl-holm, and David Gere, the younger brother of Richard Gere. “We decided to start our own club,” recalls Vasan-than.

The Curtain Club, symbolised by three arches erected on the stage, was born. Actors came to the club from In-dia, England, and America to perform Shakespeare and modern playwrights such as Agatha Christie, J. B. Priestley, and Ben Travers.

“English plays,” says Vasanthan, “are modern, and really different from each other. The Curtain Club staged trag-edies as well as comedies.”

According to Vasanthan, English plays are simple and pure. “We didn’t need to make big things on stage to make the play comprehensible. Dialogues were natural; sets, costumes and make-up were simple. There was no music. [This simplicity] allowed the au-dience to be more captivated, and to feel the tension.”

Challenges of a Theatre DirectorIt takes between one to two months for J. Vasanthan and his team to stage a play. First, he organises several discus-sions with the actors about dialogues and staging. Thanks to his skills in cartooning, he is easily able to draw a storyboard, or sketch artistically to help the team plan their production.

These drawings, which act as a rough draft were useful to everyone, whether they were actors, tailors, or even the hairdressers! Vasanthan also designed the costumes and the sets, and if he wanted an actor to stand up in a cer-tain way, he would just draw it and show him!

After every performance, the team reviewed the performance and ex-plored ways to improve themselves in the next performance. “You need this relationship between the director and the actors, so the performance can get better and better,” says Vasanthan. J. Vasanthan faced several problems as a director. “Once, there was this

woman who was run-ning an orphanage,” he recalls. “She wanted to bring the children to one of our plays. I was okay with that but we asked her to keep them calm and quiet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case; she didn’t want to cooperate, pretending that she was too busy. An American actress who was playing


that day got really angry with them.” J. Vasanthan has had several unforget-table moments too.

“I remember when we were doing an 18th century play. Before the play began, actors would sit, discuss and smoke on the stage. Once, one of the actors dropped his Charminar packet of cigarettes on the stage. The 18th century play began with the Charminar packet! It was really funny to see the actor picking the packet discreetly, try-ing not be noticed by the audience!”The Curtain Club lasted several years and received rave reviews from the press and enjoyed great popularity among the theatre going public. The club closed down when Vasanthan re-tired in 1994.”

A Requiem for drama?Vasanthan, however, is nostalgic for times when theatre reigned supreme. When he was staging plays, there were people who were genuinely fond of watching plays. “Today there is no drama, only films,” he says. “Drama stopped.

Even in school teachers don’t open children’s minds to drama,” Vanasthan says with a tinge of sadness.

A requiem for drama?

Aimee Boos Limoges, France

(Cartoons by J. Vasanthan)

18

Academics

Face to Face with Dr. Sundar Kali

He has a wide range of experience in classical and folk theatre and film. He has studied Tamil culture, performance, and cinema, and did his doctorate work on the traditional folk scene of rural Tamil Nadu. He is Dr. Sundar Kali, Professor of Tamil language and literature at Gandhigramam University and he has a wealth of knowledge about the state of folk arts and modern Indian media today.

What are some indicative attributes of traditional Indian folk theatre?

“There are three main things. First of all, the actors in folk plays make very obvi-ous gestures- it’s dramatic acting. In forms such as Kathakali different colors are painted on the actors’ faces to demonstrate mood, in addition to their very bright costumes. Second, the stories of traditional theatre were often legends and myths that had been told through generations. And then Indian folk theatre tends to include a lot of music and dance- there isn’t traditionally a lot of dialogue.”

Even among a large film industry there is still an active theatre scene. Do you think there are ideas that can be better portrayed in theatre than in film?

A “When photography emerged they declared the age of painting is gone. Simi-larly with cinema they said theatre is gone…but that never happened. With the coming of photography, painting started reshaping itself. For instance, there is no need for portrait painting anymore- but painting became modernised and ex-pressionistic. A similar thing happened with theatre. There emerged experimental theatre- often with a very minimalist set; just a chair and other small props, and a black backdrop, and one or two actors addressing the article. The acting was more realistic, and less expressive and colourful like traditional performances.

“Cinema is technical- there’s cutting and editing, and things are often portrayed much more realistically. It can also be specialised more to suit a specific audience drawn to comedies, or family movies, musicals, or action films.”

How has the role of the audience changed between traditional and contemporary theatre?

“Because the productions are so long in folk theatre, the audience has a lot of freedom- they choose what to watch and when. Nobody would watch the folk plays for the entire duration. [In their communities,] they will come and go. They know the story- people have heard it for generations- so people will go to sleep during the boring parts. If you were sleeping during a good part someone would come wake you up, and sa, “Hey, get up and watch!

“In modern theatre, as in movie theatres, the audience pays money and enters a closed auditorium to watch the play on a raised stage. It’s much less intimate. Folk plays were performed on the ground and the audience would surround them. And with less props and more gestures, there is more room for the viewer to imagine things.”



Academics

Street Theatre: Instrument of Social ChangeIn a conversation with Dr Margaret Kalaislevi and her street theatre team at the Tamil Nadu Theo-logical Seminary (TTS), Madurai, Jan Braune explores the inherent potential of street theatre in

giving a voice to the voiceless and enabling unheard stories to be heard.

Dr. Margaret Kalai Selvi has a Bach-elor of Divinity degree and for a while served as a minister in Bengaluru. Soon after, she returned to Madurai to do her Master’s in Theology and Communication. Today, she teaches Communication and Women’s Studies at the TTS in Madurai where she lives with her family.

Action ReflectionDr. Margaret’s main field of interest is

“action reflection”. For her, it means theology is not only about reflecting or thinking about what happens in the world, but also to ‘do’ things. She wel-comes the idea of exploring alternative cultural forms not only in theory, but also in practice.

The students accompanying her today are from her street theatre group. They all are from different regions of India and bring a lot of different experiences that coalesce into an exciting whole. According to Dr. Margaret street the-atre is building a bridge between soci-ety and the church, making this field of study fascinating.

“We are giving our students training in

many social issues, they practise in-ternships and programmes using their knowledge. When they go away after four years [of school] we expect they will continue to use and practice these skills in their churches and areas,” she says.

Street theatre is very flexible. It can be used as a one person show, in smaller groups, or in cooperation with other organisations. And because street the-atre isn’t staged, the performers have creative freedom to beckon passers-by to come see their production. Normally, before a play begins, the people on the street beat drums, sing songs or per-form a short magical show or dance to get the attention of the people passing. Sometimes it is difficult to bring people out of their houses, especially in big-ger cities. They are sitting at home, do-ing nothing or watching TV. But when street theatre is taking place even these people come to watch.

The Need for Education I watched the students perform a ten minute street theatre production about the need for education. Not everybody in India has the chance to get the ed-

ucation he or she wants. The group showed different situations and inter-actions between family members with regard to education. The slice of life depictions consisted of issues such as the unwillingness of family members to educate others in the family, children dropping out from school to follow their family business, insufficient financial support for education, and secondary importance of education for women. Women who are perceived in the tra-ditional role of home maker. Like many street theatre productions, this one was both moving and thought-provoking.

The solution the play offers is not to fear confrontation but to fight for your choices in education. The play sug-gests to viewers that they are not alone in facing such problems but on the other hand many understand them and will support them in asserting and availing their rights.

Rules of Street TheatreBesides education street theatre brings attention to other themes such as so-cietal or family problems, environment, caste system, rights of women and do-mestic violence. Even airport extension, globalisation, and the take over of per-sonal land by private companies can be highlighted in street theatre plays. Performers portray significant social issues rather than just utilising famous folklore stories.

The intimacy of street theatre lends itself to good feedback from the audi-ence. After watching the play, some members of the audience join the cam-paign against the problems portrayed in the play. For others, seeing the street production is just a step to thinking about the issue. They bring the discus-sion into their families and friends and spread it into society. Talking about the problems is the first step of changing society, says Dr. Margaret Kalaiselvi. But there still is a competition between street theatre and other media. In a con-

19

Social Interaction at the Tamil Nadu Theological Seminary. (Photo by Joel Powell)


temporary context TV and cinema are the primary media while street theatre is an alternative. Or is it the other way around? The students argued about that. The consensus that emerged was that ‘real’ acting is live and ‘real’ people are taking place in street theatre, so this is the original media that touches people in the most effective way! The main difference between using theatre instead of other communication media is that theatre comes to people: be it people on their way to work, or on the street. There is no need of technical equipment, a stage or even money.

Bonding with the Audience The audience is directly involved in the play. This means that they remember and recall the contents of the play ef-fortlessly, as one would when watching television. Another argument is that TV or cinema is only one-way communica-tion. The audience can’t answer, ask or disagree directly. In street theatre they are welcome to respond. When that happens members in the audience interrupt the play and ask questions. There is closeness in theatre that can-not be found on screen.

In smaller villages street theatre is particularly attractive. Its appeal cuts across age, gender and literacy. Before performing, the actors, (in this case) the students of TTS, research the area where the play is taking place and they try to find out about local issues before choosing a theme to be staged for this audience. Sometimes the theme is a general theme and there is no need to change the content of the play. Other times, the play is intended for a par-ticular audience such as an audience of students, or church-goers.

On certain occasions some members

in the audience will be hurt by the content of the play. For example, some religious groups could disagree with a play’s message, or politicians shout slogans against the programme, or children are disturbed by the play. But to the students of TTS these are minor problems that they are able to effective-

ly address. Before the students go to a village to perform they must speak to the head of the village and ask for per-mission. A good additional protection from threats would be to involve some important people of the village where the play is taking place. While this is far from being as simple as it sounds, contacts with local non governmental organisations help most of the time.

The aim of street theatre groups like that of Dr. Margaret Kalaiselvi’s is not political propaganda, but the other way around- a good play should confront the political parties and the society with the thoughts of the people from the street, giving them a voice.

Jan BrauneMagdeburg, Germany

Academics

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Dr Magaret Kalaislevi reading the Madurai Times at TTS. (Photo by Joel Powell)


Academics

R.Prabhakar: ‘Cinema has displaced theatre’R. Prabhakar, Assistant Prof. of Tamil Language and Literature

at the American College, Madurai, speaks to Jan Braune about the evolution of Indian theatre.

With regard to the theatre scene in Madurai Prof. R. Prabhakar said that there is no modern theatre. Rather there are many festivals and some open air street theatre. Tamil Nadu is well known for its traditional music theatre movement. This, however, has been decreasing in modern times. He attributed this to the influence of cin-ema this has sadly displaced theatre, even among his students.

In traditional Tamil theatre there is no need for a stage as street theatre can be performed anywhere. Also in con-trast to cinema street theatre is inex-pensive. He said it was also interesting that the Western style theatres intro-duced to Tamil Nadu in the 70s had failed as the audiences did not accept them. In fact that kind of thing has nev-er been popular in India at all.

Prof. Prabhakar says, “Indian theatre does not exist!” Explaining this further he said that theatre is a “local tradi-tion” which has manifested as different

“theatre colours” within regions and districts from a melting pot of more than 700 languages, the caste system and three to four main religions. What this represents is traditional theatre and it is this that unites the differences between people which emerge from time to time. However he did stress again that the new voice of the people is mass media as it is much easier for them to express problems through this than in theatre.

Hence the American College reflects both interests– traditional theatre and new media such as film. Students can use media equipment free of charge as many are more interested in mod-ern arts like music and TV than theatre. Yet every year a group of about 20-30 students take part in the traditional theatre offered by the college. There are also good contacts between the American College and National School of Drama in New Delhi.

According to Prof. Prabhakar the gov-ernment provides more economic as-sistance to other media forms and rarely does traditional theatre benefit from this.

In fact there are only a few art, the-atre and music schools in India. He stressed that while theatre is a simple art it is also a science.

It benefits young people who have less time in the modern world to listen to old stories at home. These stories were the common origins of theatre. It is sad, he says, that they now adopt the heroes and stories from foreign culture via TV rather than using their own stories for artistic purposes. In Prof. Prabhakar’s opinion this marks an important loss for Indian culture.

He stressed that young Indians need to develop artistically from the roots of their own culture rather than foreign modern arts. There is a danger, he said, that these young artistes will not shine as they might if the art form was more grounded in the traditional psyche and value base of India.

What is happening now in traditional Tamil theatre, according to Prof. Prab-hakar is that it is becoming a sub cul-ture often developed by intellectuals. Sometimes you will encounter this un-derground where it takes the form of political critique.

Prof. Prabhakar reminded us that tra-ditional theatre provides the audience with a living actor, not a fictional person like in television. While cinema may be a much more technical art it can never provide the audience feedback and in-teraction of traditional theatre. This is direct and spontaneous. Further cin-ema, while it works, offers a reduced imaginative exploration.

Prof. Prabhakar said that while he could not see any movement or inter-est in protecting traditional theatre he believed it is still the most powerful medium that should not be forgotten as it was from theatre itself that cinema emerged.

Jan BrauneMagdeburg, Germany

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Mr. Prabhakar in discussion with Jan Braune at the American College, Madurai.(Photo by JC Chan)


Weekend Wander

Rameshwaram RamblingsKerry Kitchin wanders around Rameshwaram and Danushkodi,

soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells of this pastoral coastal island.

The “tastiest fish in India,” the acrobat-ic precision of the tea maker, the states of silence and privacy experienced by fishers, and the camaraderie with the children, are some of the unforgettable moments in this young seeker’s coastal sojourn…

In order to seek refuge from the tyran-nical slave drivers at the Madurai Mee-saenger office (!), my Danish colleague Anders Staal and I decided to take a short break from Madurai and venture into the far reaches of Tamil Nadu. Af-ter brief deliberation we decided upon the destination of Rameshwaram, a tiny spiritual island just off the south east shoreline of India.

A Road Less Travelled From Maattuthavani station we caught the 5 am bus which would take four hours to arrive at Rameshwaram. The ride for the most part was typical of an excursion in this part of the coun-

try. Traversing along worn down roads that slice through the baked terracotta earth we enjoyed brief interludes ev-ery hour or so at the roadside settle-ments that feed and in turn are fed by the highway. For the entertainment of the passengers the two televisions on the bus played a relentless gauntlet of Tamil movies with the volume way up.

Forewarned is Forearmed Alighting in the town of Rameshwaram we were accosted by a friendly fleet of touts, peddlers, hoteliers and beg-gars. A Western looking man cloaked in swirls of Hindu garments and ap-parel, jostled through them. He greeted us nonchalantly and heeded us some advice.

“Listen, they don’t get many tourists around here and you guys stand out like a sore thumb. You’re gonna need to get some different clothes if you want to avoid this kind of aggravation.

You’re wearing the cliché tour-ist stuff”- giving a head nod toward Anders’ straw trilby hat.

“It’s all in your attitude. Little signs will let them know you’re new here and they’ll take you for a ride. Don’t give them an inch, you understand?” I thanked him and pulled out my Rough Guide to India.

“Right then….…”

A Confluence of Tourism and Religion The town of Rameshwaram is certainly an exciting place. As an important Hindu pilgrim-age destination it plays host to scores of religious devotees who flock here to worship at the Ramanathaswamy temple and bathe in the town’s small beach area.

Despite the abundance of culture and activity, Ramesh-waram was not the placid,

relaxing destination we had in mind. Hoping to seek refuge on a quiet beach and enjoy some local seafood, we con-sulted a rickshaw driver on what our options here would be. He recom-mended taking us to the small fishing village of Dhanushkodi twenty kilome-ters away. We happily obliged.

Bow’s End Dhanushkodi derives its name from the two Tamil words ‘Dhanush’, meaning bow and ‘Kodi’ meaning end. Hindu mythology has it that Rama marked this spot with the end of his famous bow, thus, Bow’s End.

The journey from Rameshwaram to Dhanushkodi took only twenty-five minutes as we were channeled across a thin ribbon of land with ocean to one side and backwaters on the other.

The trees arching overhead had unwit-tingly been pruned by the procession of heavy goods vehicles and busses that had traveled along this strip. This provided a natural tunnel and made our journey that much more dramatic.

Naturally Resilient It must be noted too that this area of India has experienced its fair share of drama in recent years. Devastated by the Asian Tsunami in 2004 it has only just begun to return to normality. The fragility of the people and their courage despite living in such a climatically vol-atile area certainly adds to their char-acter and charm, as we would indeed find out when we arrived at the village.

As we approached the shanty proces-sion of huts that marked the villages’ outskirts, children lined the thin slither of concrete road that lay on the sand like a slick of oil on the sea. Genial fac-es permeated with the same curiosity that had compelled our rickshaw driver to reposition his wing mirrors towards Anders and me in the back, the instant we boarded.A tea vendor pours chai. (Photo by JC Chan)


Picture Perfect On arrival we paid the driver the Rs. 250 we had agreed on and traipsed down to the shore. From this vantage point we could take in most of the vil-lage. Makeshift thatched houses, chai stalls and a church. Dozens of fishing boats littered the shore line, many al-ready anchored after a night out at sea, but some still making their way back now and being dragged up the beach by a bundle of stalwart fishermen lend-ing a hand to a fellow sea farer. Even as those anchored little vessels floated idly they served an aesthetic purpose. Adorned in a plethora of pastoral co-lours, they cast a definitive picturesque quality upon this humble little hamlet.

Frolicking in the Sun We spent most of the early part of the day bathing in the Bay of Bengal and enjoying the attention we were receiv-ing from the local children. The mys-terious foreigner role is never a dull one. These happy little smiling faces were intrigued with the sun cream we were applying, so we distributed some of it among them which they mischie-vously rubbed into their hair. All parties involved enjoyed this immensely; right up until the bottle ran out. Now there are two reasons to pack sun cream for the beach!

A Foodie’s Delight At around mid-afternoon a surfeit of fragrant sunshine mingled with the smell of freshly cooked fish, heralding a long due lunch break. As far as we were aware there seemed to be only one restaurant in this little village to choose from. I’m of the opinion that too much choice is never a good thing and on this particular occasion less certain-ly meant more. A thatched hut, three or four gas burners, a rustic arrange-ment of tables and a very capable chef produced a fish thali that was nothing short of delightful! The fish, fresh as a sweet Sunday morning, was perhaps the tastiest I’ve eaten so far during my stay here in India; and that’s a bold statement!

A Fine Balance My Danish friend and I sang “Chai chai chai, coffee coffee” as we dawdled along to the chai stall. For those that are yet to witness it, the spectacle of a

good chai wallah at work is an encap-sulating sight and this particular artisan did not fail to impress. One arm stretched out high above his head, he decanted the tea from dizzy-ing heights into a cup in his other hand and then back again. All of this was done with the same finesse and stat-ure as a ballet virtuoso. Well…..almost.

A Slice of the Real “You know”, I said to Anders, as we so-journed in the shade of the chai hut,

“These fishermen have got the right idea”

“What do you mean?”“Well, they’re the only people that on a daily basis enjoy the two comforts that are hardest to come by here in India”

“And what are those?” Anders asked.“When these men set off for the horizon in their little wooden boats just before sunset, the luxuries of both silence and privacy await them and are duly savoured until the sun rises again and they return home.”

“It’s a hard life though.”“Yes, but its real.”

A local man who had been watching and listening intently to our conversa-tion asked where I was coming from. Delighted that one of the village resi-dents had taken interest in our discus-sion and decided to join in, I elaborat-ed on my argument, displaying a real romanticism for why I admired these fishermen so much. The local man just

stared at me with a bewildered look in his face until his friend came to the aid of us both.

“He asks, ‘Where is your home coun-try?’”

Bonding with Kids Fully satisfied with four cups in our bel-lies we wondered back down to the sea and acquainted ourselves with a dozen or so local children. Some of whom were sporting a curious white emul-sion in their hair. We spent time play-ing cricket and swimming with the kids who impressed us greatly by producing a beautiful array of different sea shells and ornate conches they had found in the sea by diving off the boats tied up a few metres out.

Into the Sunset As the sun began to set behind us, the men of the village took to their ves-sels. One by one they headed out to sea. As they cast their nets they could only hope for a fruitful catch but at least they could guarantee a peaceful slumber.

Our day here had come to an end and as we left for Rameswaram to catch the bus back to Madurai. The night sky was splattered with stars, and on the horizon the lanterns of the little wooden fishing boats were lost amongst them.

Kerry KitchinNewcastle, UK

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Weekend Wander

Tourists and locals wade in the Rameshwaram waters. (Photo by JC Chan)


The Sacred and the OrdinaryDonna Marks meets Sivakasi based astrologer Ganapathy Swamigal and discovers that there are

many facets to this astrologer with a gift of prophecy than just the myth associated with him about making predictions under the influence of alcohol!

In 1938, journalist Paul Brunton trav-elled to India in search of a spiritual master. What he discovered there changed his life forever and was re-corded in what would eventually be-come the highly successful book, A Search in Secret India. Just before I was about to leave my Irish home to travel to India I was given this spiritual clas-sic. Interestingly enough it focussed on where I was going to,- southern India. And even better, it turned out that my destination, Madurai, was of a great significance to Brunton. Why? Because it was just outside Madurai, a “place of the sweet nectar”, that the man Brun-ton came to find. Ramana Maharishi, his spiritual master, was born.Brunton searched all of India to find the Maharishi. He hungered for spiritual in-sight, he hungered for truth. Most of all he hungered for what all of us in the secret places of our hearts yearn for– a clear and concrete connection to God.

An Auspicious Omen When I met Ganapathy Swamigal (GS), an astrologer living in Sivakasi, I won-dered what Brunton would have made of this man. Described to me as the

“drunken astrologer” who nevertheless made uncannily correct predictions, I did not know what to expect when our car pulled up at his temple. We had driven for two hours and it was a pleasure to find myself in the heart of Tamil Nadu’s countryside surrounded by green fields filled to the brim with glorious golden sunflowers. I hoped this was an auspicious sign. As time went on though I realised that a sun-flower may simply be just a sunflower after all…

First Impressions Ganapathy Swamigal has a beautifully kind face. His eyes twinkle with the lustre of a thousand shades of amber and burnt sienna. I was fascinated by those eyes. What secrets do they hold? I asked myself. Is this man with the so kind a face really able to know the past,

predict the future and heal the sick? I wondered if is this all a delusion or even worse, a con. And is it true that Ganapathy Swamigal uses alcohol as part of his work?

Sifting the Wheat from Chaff I knew that Brunton would not have been impressed. He had little time for many of the fakirs and siddhas he met in India. He would have had no time at all for one who allegedly used alcohol in his work. Further whilst not deriding the very obvious powers some of the men he met possessed, Brunton had a sharp eye and a quick intuitive way of nosing out those who were downright dishonest or who had the “gift” but had not moved beyond these occult pow-ers. His mission was to find a man who had passed through this stage of spiri-tual attainment and reached through to the other side– to the place where bliss sits hand in hand with the divine.

Past Perfect However I am not Brunton and I was determined to keep an open mind. Ga-napathy Swamigal did his reading for me using a brass plate filled with the dried dung of sacred cows. He sim-ply wrote my name in this using what looked like the point of a pair of scis-sors. To my surprise he said immedi-ately that I have three siblings and had moved house five times. Both of these were correct. He then said that one of my relatives had committed suicide or been involved in a fatal accident and another had gone blind. This too was true. He told me I had a bright future but gave no specifics whatsoever. While this was good to hear I was obviously disappointed as any well meaning “do gooder” could tell me that. I was all the more disappointed when I realised that my reading was over as abruptly as it had begun.

How did I know? A certain “that’s all you’re getting “look in those commanding eyes.

Missing the Mark Readings were then given to four of my colleagues. Unfortunately for them, GS got as much information wrong as he got right. However what I did notice was that when he was accurate the information was quite specific. For ex-ample he was able to locate a “secret” that one had kept deep in his heart for a very long time and tell another that his big passion in life was directing films. At the same time the astrologer made serious errors telling a colleague he had five siblings when in fact he had only one! He was also totally wrong in all of the information he gave to another colleague.

Forewarned is Forearmed Just prior to giving his interview Ganap-athy Swamigal warned me that I was not to ask him “silly” questions or he would become “angry”. Not liking this at all I decided I would not be shirk-ing from any of the areas I wanted to explore with him. I was a little nervous though as we had been shown a film of GS bending steel plates into all kinds of contortions when the god sudalai Madasamys possesses him at the half moon festival! I secretly called on the spirit of my old friend Brunton to help me refrain from total cowardice. In my mind Brunton said, “Go with the easy questions first.” Good advice, I thought. Thanks, Paul.

Early Promise So, how did Ganapathy Swamigal be-come an astrologer?Ganapathy’s beautiful eyes lit up and danced as he remembered how his father, also an astrologer, had discov-ered that he too had the gift of “seeing”. This, he said, was manifested on his chest as one side had white hair and the other brown. This meant Shiva and Parvati had gifted him with their divine powers. He was nineteen when his fa-ther had noticed his calling. Prior to this, he had no interest in astrology, but was just a young man with interests like

Culture


any one else. However, after his father sensed his gift “everything changed”. He began to learn about the planets, their positions and their impact upon people. There was an obvious pride that GS had pleased his father. His eyes seemed to shine with some other emotion too- what was it? I couldn’t tell. I made a mental note though to track those eyes. I would watch him as he spoke and later moved around the tem-ple, green fields and sunflowers. Per-haps, I wondered, some helpful nature spirit would help me to do my own “di-vining” as this mysterious man’s words parted company with his lips.

The Person behind the Astrologer Are you married, I asked? (Another easy question).Yes, Ganapathy informed me. He is married and has two sons and a daughter. One son works as a pilot in the Indian Air Force and the other has a good job, and his daughter is mar-ried. And, I asked him, does he intend to pass his gifts onto one of his children so that astrology is carried in his fami-lies’ lineage?

Again a gracious golden smile folds it-self across Gs’s face and reaches up into his eyes. They are truly amazing I think. It’s almost as if some special light resides there, a warm glow with origins in a place that only he, and perhaps his father, know of. Ganapathy tells me that he has not yet found who he will train as the next family astrologer. How-ever his grandson seems promising as

“all he wants to do is pray at the temple and offer poojas,” GS beams with pride.

Of Planets and Humans What is the significance of the planets in our lives, I ask, and where does that information come from? GS tells me that the planets are of fun-damental importance to us all. “They control our lives, we are composed of their energies and it is because of this that our good and bad deeds can be stored as our karma when we incar-nate on earth”. He also says, “All of us suffer for the past sins of our ances-tors”. When GS speaks on this matter an authoritative air enters his voice. He begins to sound like the great teach-ers who stay in the minds of their pu-

pils long past childhood. He had an air about him that seemed to say– I know, it’s clear to me; I will teach you, come close and learn.Sitting at the feet of this astrologer I wondered what Brunton would have said to me as I began to fall under his spell. “Steady up girl, come on now– keep focussed– and isn’t it about time you got down to the nitty gritty”.

The Big Question Okay– the big question. The small matter of alcohol. This really couldn’t be avoided as there was a nearly empty bottle of booze just outside the temple door, the astrologer’s attendant seemed slightly the worse for wear and we were told we didn’t need to bring alcohol as an offering as there were ten bottles already there! Also the temple manager expressed concern that this would be a focus of the interview– thus of course drawing big gloopy dollops of attention to it!It is a fact that many great South Amer-ican Shamans, those great seers and medicine people, openly say they use alcohol and hallucinogenic drugs to as-

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Culture

Astrologer Ganapathy Swamigal poses alongside Hindu idols.(Photo by JC Chan)


sist their communication with the gods. It is one of my greatest interests and I have read about such people for years. Is it true, I asked the astrologer, that he also uses alcohol in a similar fashion, and that somehow it opens up some portal enabling him to see into other dimensions?

Alcohol for Pain Relief and not for Prophecy There is a slight but noticeable prickle in the air. I sense GS is displeased with the question and I immediately ask the translator if the astrologer deems this one of the “silly” questions that anger him so? I have a disconcerting image of bent steel plates flying through the air aimed possibly at my head. “No,” I am told, “it is not true”. GS tells me that he has never used alcohol for this purpose.

He says he does not like the compari-son.” I already have the gift so I do not need to do this.” Rather he says alco-hol is necessary for him once a year at the half moon festival when the god Madasamy enters him causing him pain and distress. He tells me that after the festival when the God has left his body, he is often still in so much pain that he cries. This God has caused him to dance for hours and given him such strength that he is able to express the God’s anger by the bending of steel plates.

A Trouble shooter What kinds of people come to him for help? A tells me that they usually have

“problems, the most common being lost items which they want found or mental health issues.” He advises that a judge who lives in the United King-dom came to him not so long ago as he wanted help for his son who had a mental illness. He told the judge his son would be cured in two and a half months. “And sure enough, he was”.

This is said with a definitive air and a gracious smile. Wow, I think, to have such faith, such conviction.

The Gift of Healing Does the astrologer consider himself to have healing powers too? “Yes,” he says. The answer comes back swift as if carried on the back of a very fast horse. I marvel again at the faith I see in front of me. There is no doubt that Ganapathy is convinced that he has been blessed with a gift from God. He tells me next that he has healed a woman who could not talk. She had become mute after an accident but af-ter he blessed her with the white mark she began to speak again. Another woman who could not walk was also healed. He says this simply, matter of fact even. I just stare.

As Brunton did so many years before me I tell GS that people in the Western world generally do not believe in astrol-ogy or psychic gifts from the heavens. They tend to have a rationalist mind set, science has become the materialist’s

“God” and I am interested in what he might say to them to convince them of his gift.

GS smiles again. He looks to the side, bends his head slightly and I assume I will receive a marvellous answer full of insight and wisdom. However to my amusement the astrologer tells me “I really don’t care. If someone comes from the West I will predict for him. If not I wont.” It seems this is a man who is not out to impress anyone. Secretly I like him all the more.

For the Good of All What are the best and worst parts of his job? I ask him. “I like to do good things for others. I am happy when I cure someone from disease. I hate it when I see bad things in the world.”Finally I ask GS what message would

he like to give people about spiritual-ity and himself as an astrologer? He replies simply, “I never press people to come here,- that would be ego. But I would say to all that if you want to come here for a prediction please do and I will welcome you.”

So, there you have it. The so called “al-cohol” astrologer. Perhaps it is an un-fair description, or perhaps it is not. If GS does use alcohol in his work on a regular basis he certainly wasn’t letting me know. Further he was definitely not drunk when I met him. And what did I make of him?

The truth is that I couldn’t really tell. It was uncanny how accurate he was about some of the details of my life.

Equally it was confusing that he was so off the mark with some of my col-leagues. Perhaps some people are harder to read than others? Perhaps he was just lucky with me although how did he get just so lucky? There again when he got so much wrong with my colleagues was he tired or distracted? Those dazzling sunflowers were blazing in through the open door, after all. Who can really tell the way of such things? What I did know for sure was that whilst I was not bowled over by the demon-stration of GS’s powers he did seem to be a good and well intentioned man. I suspected he was also a very intelligent and complex individual.

My lasting impression though will al-ways be those amber eyes. Just what secrets were they holding? What was the nature of that light?

Brunton would have remarked upon them too– I know.

Donna MarksBelfast, Ireland

Culture

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The color, the grace and levitation, the structural pattern in motion, the quick interplay of live beings, suspended like fitful lightning in a cloud, these things are the play, not words on paper, nor thoughts and ideas of an author, those shabby things snatched off basement counters at Gimbel‘s.

Tennessee Williams


People

A. Irudayaraj: Voice of the Voiceless Louise Soubrier meets A. Irudayaraj and is touched by the former teacher’s vision to better the lives of prisoners, through his initiative ABODE that he established in 1991. Despite innumerable initial

hurdles and challenges, Irudayaraj is clearly a man with a mission.

In the late 1980s, A. Irudayaraj taught in a school next to the Madurai jail. Up-set by the aggressive and harsh behav-iour of policemen towards prisoners, he then decided to start a rehabilita-tion programme for the prisoners and their families in which they would be treated as human beings with dignity and respect.

Swimming against the Tide As a first step, he highlighted the prob-lems he had noticed in the prison to the government. But popular percep-tions of prisoners as burdens to soci-ety made it impossible for him to get financial support for his cause. Neither were people willing to even be recep-tive to such a novel idea. Despite the lack of support, however, Irudayaraj did not give up.

“Money and service do not go together in this country,” he says sadly.

Driven by a Cause Therefore he quit his job at the school to dedicate his life to the cause of cre-ating a better life for people in prisons. Irudayaraj does not consider prisoners as marginalised people in the periph-ery of life but instead believes that they must be treated like people with the same hopes, desires and aspirations like any other people. In fact to Iru-dayaraj, they are like his brothers.

In 1991 Irudayaraj established an ini-tiative called ABODE (Akhil Bharat Organisation for Developmental Edu-cation). According to Irudayaraj, in the initial years, prison authorities were not sympathetic to his concerns. What was worse, even the prisoners were suspi-cious of his intention and doubted his intentions to better their lives.

When Irudayaraj began to work with prisoners, his family was unhappy.

They disliked his association with peo-ple branded as “criminals.” Yet he fol-lowed his heart and was not affected by the family pressure and unsupport-ive attitude. A determined Irudayaraj then explained to his family that he was not supporting corruption and crime but instead was only looking for alter-natives to make life more meaningful for people like prisoners who are shun by society. All that has since changed and today, touched by his compassion and dedication, his family is supportive of his dream.

Pointing the Way Led by his heart, Irudayaraj is doing everything possible to provide employ-ment opportunities to the prisoners. He also interfaces with the families on behalf of the prisoners and arranges for periodic family meetings. In order to prepare them to integrate to soci-ety after their sentence he organises

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skill trainings in art, craft, and com-puter and even provides a certificate to those who complete the training in three months.

A Bridge between Families Irudayaraj is the kind of person who can naturally feel another’s pain and sorrow. During his numerous interac-tions with prisoners, he realised that they did not have any contact with their families and that this made them feel lonely and isolated. Another distressing factor was that even families of prison-ers were hostile to them. For example, even if the wife of a prisoner wished to see him, the family would not permit her because the prisoner was a source of shame to them.

Therefore in order to address such deeply held attitudes in society, Iru-dayaraj initiate family meetings. Often he personally visited the families and helped them to realise that even though the family member was in prison, he or she was still a part of their lives.

Reaching out to Children Encouraged by the success of ABODE, in 1998 Irudayaraj established the Abode Children’s House. At first this house was meant to welcome prison-

ers’ children or “precious children” as he describes them. But his large and open heart pushed him to also wel-come children from victimised families.

A like minded friend donated the house in which the centre functions. The re-sources for running the centre come from local communities and the centre is staffed by volunteers.

A Second Father To the children in the home, Irudayaraj is a second father.

The 60 children living in this house are between 5 15 years, and include both boys and girls. There is a lot of fun, laughter and fellowship among the children. Although they are permitted to go home during annual and summer holidays some of them prefer to stay in this peaceful and comfortable place. They do their homework, have dinner, play, and sing together.

I was amazed and touched to see them all sing and dance together. Samaya Purathal a lovely 11 year old girl who has been there for six years said that she felt at home. Yet, she likes to go

back home during holidays to visit her mother living alone.

Karthik, a ten year old ambitious little boy wants to become a scientist. He was brought here by his aunt after he lost both parents and considers this is home.

Irudayaraj’s commitment for these chil-dren is inspiring and touching. Indeed, they have now a new family, they go to school and all express ambitious dreams concerning their future.

Since Irudayaraj began his work, doesn’t have enough time for himself, but as he says “it doesn’t matter as long as he can make people around him happy.” Indeed his extended fam-ily now consists of 60 people! And this champion of social causes feels there are several more people who need his help!

Louise SoubrierParis, France

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People

A. Irudaraj speaks about his rehabilitation programm.(Photo by Aimee Boos)


Making a difference

The Sky is not the LimitRanjith Kumar, athlete and coach, who incidentally is disabled, has redefined how the world looks at people with disabilities,

says Aimee Boos

A Star is BornRanjith Kumar contracted polio nine months after his birth. It was only when he was eight years old, however, that he managed to accept his condi-tion and the fact that he would not be able to use his legs anymore. Unfor-tunately, his father died when he was just 15 years old. This tragedy plunged

his family into poverty and Ranjith had to take care of them. In order to earn money to support them, he undertook seasonal work. Due to all these new responsibilities, Ranjith became more mature, and began to relish challenges and achievements. Thus, he started training in sports. In 1998, when he was 24, Ranjith met the coach Para-

suram, who thought he was talented and took him under his wing.

“When I started the training with Para-suram, I was like a baby, but I made progress, and than, I was able to par-ticipate in some championships.” Thus Ranjith began his unbelievable collec-tion of medals. In 2002, he participated in the Asian Games, in Busan, Korea. He won a sil-ver medal in discus throw. The same year, Ranjith hoisted the Indian flag at the International Paralympics in Ger-many, where he won a gold medal. His winning streak included two silver medals at the British Athletic Open Championship in 2003, a gold medal at the Belgium Open Championship in 2004; silver medal in discus throw and bronze in javelin at the British Open Championship for disabled persons in 2005; bronze in discus throw in the 2006 Commonwealth Games…

Family Life In 1998, when he was 24, Ranjith met his wife who is a non disabled person.

“I was interviewed for a radio station, and people could call to ask asking me questions. She was a regular caller, so she called to talk to me, and we spent a long time speaking together. We ex-changed our numbers, and finally met. It’s she who proposed to me! Now, I am a fulfilled husband and father,” says a delighted Ranjith.

Laurels all the Way Forty years ago, disabled people were considered objects of pity or were shunned, Ranjith’s achievement, how-ever, challenges such popular and widespread notions. In October 2007, the State Government appointed Ran-jith as coach for the disabled in Race Course Stadium, Madurai and also presented him a cheque for Rs.10 lakh. Thanks to this unexpected mon-ey, Ranjith was able to get some sports equipment for training.

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As Ranjith’s students are all physically challenged, their main barrier is the non availability of equipment tailored to their specific handicaps. For instance, Ranjith says that in the early years, dis-cus throwers often had to use a stone or a regular chair. Often, there was only one chair available.

Multiple Everyday Challenges “We need economic support. All of my students are from poor families, and they already make sacrifices to come to the stadium every day. People need to know that ideally, each player needs his own adapted chair. This is not the case now, because it is too expensive. Once, I lost a competition because I fell

from my chair, which wasn’t adapted to my specific requirements,” says Ran-jith. While several of Ranjith’s students have been selected for nationals or international competitions, they have been unable to participate because of lack of money.

Ranjith is not just a simple sports coach. He knows by his own experience that his students also need psychological support. Ranjith listens, encourages and counsels them individually. Also the supportive community of disabled persons is an incentive for newcomers to participate wholeheartedly in sports.

Sometimes parents don’t want to inte-grate their child in the team, or to let him or her participate in some events. Then, Ranjith takes on the counselor role. He usually gives his own story as an achievement example to convince them. During his leisure time, Ranjith isn’t idle at all. For instance, he goes to schools, and speaks about his life story to children.

“I want them to realise how lucky they are to be non disabled. But above all, to realise that disabled people are able to achieve their aims, maybe more than non disabled persons.”

Inspired by RanjithIn all, Ranjith coaches 60 disabled persons in the stadium. Among them is Syed Abuthahir, a talented student. Since he was 15 years, he goes every day to the stadium on wheel chair, to

follow Ranjith’s lessons. “Ranjith is like my idol. He knows how to motivate people. The first time I came to the stadium, seeing all these disabled per-sons made me ambitious. Now, I would like to become a coach as well, to take care of disabled persons.”

Before he met Ranjith, Syed wasn’t able to accept his condition. He would not socialize because people stared at him. But as he grew up, he overcame such challenges. At the age of 20, he had already won many national med-als. A recent accident, in which he sus-tained a broken arm, prevented him from participating in an international athletic competition.

“Don’t worry about discouragement; a disabled person can do anything like everyone else,” Syed often tells other disabled people.

Gururar, 25, works as a computer teacher. “Everyday, I feel happy to see people like me. Ranjith is like a guide for me, I would like to become like him”. Well, with 45 medals since 2004 to his credit, Gururaj is on the right track.“If you have confidence, and a goal, you can make gold from stone. Our main goal today is participating in the Para-lympic Games in 2012. My team and I will come back as winners,” says Ran-jith.

Aimee BoosLimoges, France

Making a difference

30

Madurai Messenger April 2010www.timesofmadurai.org Printed at Bell Printers Pvt. Ltd. www.projects-abroad.net

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april-2010

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