 We bring music to the play!
As I said earlier our lorry driver host was a talkative fellow. But
he was a hell of a risky driver too. Of course he knew his vehicle and
the winding roads. Nevertheless we were pretty nervous from the time we
boarded his jalopy.
Although he asked us to make ourselves comfortable, there was hardly
any time to do so. He was driving like a devil and talking to us all the
time, often letting go of the steering when he particularly wanted to
stress a point.
Mr. Pelis sat back as best as he could and seemed to enjoy the ride
as if he were being driven by Matali (The Charioteer of the Sakra)
himself. Mr. Anthony groaned each time our man took a bend with
screeching tyres I just managed to protest feebly about the speed and
the dangers of the road. “Don’t you worry, Mahattaya.” The man assured
me.
“I know this road like the palm of my hand. And I know this road like
my Midula!” (compound) said the man cheerily as he avoided an oncoming
motorcycle by the hundredth of a hair’s breadth! I thought the best
thing was to pipe down and let the man take us to Elamale in his own
style.
 Fortunately we arrived in the Elamale townlet in one piece - Mr.
Anthony looking red like a peeled Jambala and visibly shaking. “There
you are Sir.” Declared our Matali, his betel stained mouth spreading
into a wide grin.
“That little shed over there is your place. The tailor you are
looking for carries out his business there. Don’t forget Sir, his name
is Ellius - Ellius the master musician!” Yes, we had been having a chat
on the way and by now he knew our mission. Having said that he sped away
like the devil himself, raising a cloud of exhaust fumes.
Mission
We climbed down a couple of steps and entered the Ellius domain. The
man, Ellius, thin, fair, wavy-haired and spotlessly dressed in white
sarong and shirt, (as most tailors are) greeted us as if he was
expecting us. There was just one stool apart from his work chair and he
offered it to Mr. Anthony to sit - rightly so. Mr. Pelis and I leaned on
his tailor show-case and we explained our mission to Ellius.
He listened carefully with his chin on his palm and only nodded his
head now and then. I told him it was an episode from the Ramayana and
explained the scenes briefly. ‘So, you have eight songs in the play,
sung by Lakshman, Sita, Rama and the mendicant?”
Ellius asked finally after I had finished. “Yes, exactly eight.” I
replied, delighted by his perception.
Meanwhile, a boy of not more than 16 brought in four enamel jugs of
steaming hot tea, balanced on a rather weather-beaten enamel tray. This
must be the thablist, I thought to myself but refrained from asking an
indelicate question.
Ellius gladly undertook the job - he had been a bit of a theatre-man
himself in his younger days, and of course he was from Matara, that
eternal spring of talent and entrepreneurship - and he promised to come
to our school Saturday and Sunday mornings with his harmonium, his
thablas and his accompanist.
Our offer of an advance for travelling was most politely refused by
him and assured us that it was a great pleasure for him to be associated
with us in this bold venture of ours.
Good news
We thanked Ellius profusely and took leave of him and we were in
great good spirits! (Incidentally, later I came to know Ellius’
son-in-law quite by accident and he assured me that Ellius had now
retired from work but was reasonably hale and hearty).
We came back to school and gave the great good news. Needless to say
everybody was delighted. Most of the children, I am sure were more
curious to find out what a harmonium and a pair of thablas looked like.
So it was going to be music and song rehearsals every weekend from now
on.
Ellius and his golaya showed up on time the very next Saturday (I was
right, that tea-boy the other day was his golaya) and we sat for our
first song rehearsal with music. Ellius sat on a baby chair with his
harmonium perched on a baby bench and his golaya sat on a mat on the
ground alongside his master.
We all sat on the floor facing them and we started rehearsing the
songs one by one. At first, most of the children - those who had not
seen a harmonium or a thabla - gaped at these wonders, but soon got used
to their musical outpourings and seemed to enjoy them very much.
Mr. Wijesuriya, who could sing quite well, sang a couple of old Hindi
film songs, just to break-in and I followed with a couple of songs from
the play. Then we got down to the ‘Namaskara’ opening song. The children
who participated in the ‘Namaskara’ opening scene were asked to sit
around the harmonium in a semi circle and our Ellius very gently
introduced the tune, playing softly on his harmonium, and urging the
children to join in.
It was a bit tough at the beginning, but those who had an ear for
music caught on pretty quickly. We soon found out who could absorb a
sruti and who just could not. So we go only those who had the Sruti to
actually sing and we got the rest to just mime the words.
Uphill task
It was an uphill task but we got along fine. By the third week, our
kids were doing quite well and the songs and the music were taking
shape. Our Loku Mahattaya was delighted that we had got music into the
play and he was more delighted that he was instrumental in doing so.
After the music came in he dropped in at rehearsals every now and then
and enjoyed the sight and sounds from a distance, nodding his head,
keeping tune - as it were.
Everything was going smoothly. Now we were concentrating on the basic
sets like the Rajasana and other accessories and of course costumes. We
visited Kandy a couple of times and purchased things like gold-paper,
gold-dust, silver-paper, silver-dust, brushes and paint and all that
were required for the sets.
This was under Mr. Pelis’ supervision - he was good at this kind of
thing. Miss Piyaseeli bought sequins and gold and silver thread and
various other trimmings for the costumes. She borrowed sarees from her
friends for the dhotis.
Work was going apace until a bombshell was dropped by Kaikei! She
said that she was withdrawing from the play and refused to give a
reason. We had barely two weeks for opening night and this happens!
Thought of the week
I wish some of our politicians think what would happen to them - or
their names - say, twenty years hence... Most politicians seem to think
that they are here for eternity and in the flush of power and pride they
do some of the silliest things. Some of those deeds could over shadow
all their good deeds and condemn them for eternity in history.
* Most Ven. Dr. Omalpe Sobhita Thera has spoken volumes when he said
that his silence could be stronger than the sound of guns (or bombs). An
Upavasa, a Satyagraha or a Satyakriya are peaceful means of achieving
mighty results even from the time of the Buddha or from even before. How
much more dignified such acts are as compared to mindless bombings or
even suicide bombers, which has become a fashion all over the world
today...!
* (I am writing this on June 13) |
