My first 'Theatre Night' and Gosconcert

THEATRE: Readers may have been wondering about Vasily calling me "Dhjayasena" and calling our country "Tsylon'. Later, I found out that it has all to do with the Russian alphabet.

Unfortunately for me there is no 'H' in it. That must be why, my friend Vasily carried a placard with 'Tayasena' written on it.

Well, the next best thing he could have done was to have 'Gayasena' on it. I was glad I did not make a fuss about it. "h" is simply not there in the Russian alphabet. Neither do they have an equivalent to 'J'.

They use 'G' for 'H' and a kind of 'DHJ' for 'J'. So I become 'Gyenry Dhjayasena' in Moscow. To hell with it, what's in a name after all! Why shouldn't I be simple 'Gyenry' when the greatest anti-hero in Shakespeare, Hamlet, becomes a 'Gaamlet' in Russia?

Of course how dear old 'Ceylon' became 'Tsylon', I cannot quite explain. It must be a matter of phonetics, like 'Muskva' becoming Moscow' to us, or 'Nihon' becoming 'Japan'. I learnt a little habit of the Russian alphabet and just enough day-to-day words to get along, as the weeks went on.

But certainly not enough to understand a play, as my friend Reggie predicted. Nevertheless, actually, there was no difficulty in understanding and following a given play whether it be one I knew in English, or did not. The interpreter helped a little, but the 'flow' of the play could easily be grasped.

I was thankful to Reggie for telling me that you don't only 'hear' a work of art like a play, but that you also 'see' and understand and grasp its nuances.

Let me get back to my first 'Theatre Night' in Moscow, Swan Lake at the Bolshoi. It was stupendous. It was totally mesmerizing. Indescribably beautiful.

I had never seen anything like it before - I mean a real ballet with all its intricate moves, rapturous music, unbelievable stage effects, lighting and ethereal costumes.

One is wafted into a totally different, beautiful and poignant world. Of course the great Ulanova - best known prima ballerina of Soviet Russia - was not there at that time.

I believe she had retired just a few years ago. But to a novice like me, even the new Prima Ballerina (in 1964) was heavenly. Unfortunately I have lost the play-bills and I cannot quote her name.

Ethereal swans

The Prince was as effective as the Swan herself. He was all grace and suppleness. All the dancers in the actual swan lake scenes did look like ethereal swans with so much grace and sheer beauty of movement. Strangely enough, the bad guy in the ballet reminded me very much of our own Chitrasena in Karadiya.

The particular actor either looked like him, or maybe it was the make up, but he did look as formidable as vicious as our own man as the 'Mandadirala' in Karadiya!

The Bolshoi Ballet Theatre House itself is a marvel. It looks imposing enough from the outside with its huge arches and ornate pillars. Once inside, one marvels even more.

I believe it is a symbol of the grand old Tsarist Russia. The seating is excellently and expertly deployed. They are very comfortable.

The special balconies left and right of the proscenium are extremely imposing and as ornate as a Tsarina would have been! I believe the Bolshoi Ballet Theatre House in Moscow is as sacred to Muscovites as the Dalada Maligawa is to us.

In Moscow, indeed in the whole of Russia, there are two intervals in between the performance, and any performance rarely went under three or two and a half hours. The first interval lasts fifteen or twenty minutes during which most of the spectators rush to one of the several food and beverages outlets and give themselves a substantial feed.

And they always find the time to savour a bit of their favourite vodka or cognac. The second interval would be shorter - about ten minutes. The no smoking rule inside theatres and in the foyer etc. is strictly adhered to. One could take a puff in an ill ventilated smoking room almost always by the side of the toilets and that is no pleasure in deed!

In our enthusiasm to view the whole place and to talk about the night's performance Vasily and I missed out on the customary snack. In fact I felt no hunger at all in my elated mood.

After the curtains came down to repeated rounds of thunderous applause, which lasted a good ten minutes at least, Vasily left me at the entrance to my hotel and departed. We were to meet at 8 a.m. the next day too.

Suddenly I began to feel hunger pangs and went towards the restaurant. It was closed. I was to learn later that most restaurants and eating places in the city closed by 10 p.m. I had not had even a cup of tea after lunch. The time was past eleven.

Foreign guests

In most hotels in Russia, at least in the big ones, there is always a 'Babushka' (an old lady) seated at the entrance to each floor. They look stern, but could be very kind too.

As I approached her after climbing two flights of stairs, I indicated to her, by sign language, that I was hungry, very hungry. She looked at me with wide eyes and asked me several questions in Russian.

I signalled to her that the restaurant was closed. I am sure she knew I had been to the Bolshoi. I believe it is their duty to be informed of the comings and going of their guests - especially foreign guests. She babbled further, admonishing me perhaps, for not eating something, at least at the theatre.

I put my hands up in hopelessness and was about to proceed towards my room, when she stopped me. "Pashaluista.." (could mean please, excuse me, go on, wait a minute etc. etc. - it is a many splendoured word in the Russian language)

She said and walked past me towards a cabinet out of which she brought out a whole lot of assorted biscuits, a couple of bread rolls and a some cheese.

It was my turn now to look bewildered. "Spaceeba...!" I said "Ochen Spaceeba..!" (thank you, thank you very much - I had already learnt the phrase)

I went into my room and brought a small packet of Ceylon tea. I had brought a whole lot of such packets. I was advised to do so. I already knew that Russians were very fond of our tea. The Babushka was overjoyed when she was presented with the tea.

She thanked me profusely. She ran hither and thither and collected quite a few more women and started making the tea while I enjoyed a dinner of biscuits, a bread roll and some cheese.

They made a toast of the tea and kept saying "Harosha, Ochen Harosha...!" (excellent, absolutely excellent) I must say I felt like a bit of a hero. I was in a way glad I had missed that snack and made good friends with a lot of Babushkas!

Next morning I related the incident to Vasily and he was very happy. He was also a little upset that he had not warned me to have something to eat before going to the Theatre.

"You must always eat something before going out to Theatres. Or have some snack there. Our people close their restaurants and eating places early because of the cold nights." he said. "Of course during summer it is different," he added.

Supervision

That morning Vasily took me to the place from where the 'Gosconcert" functioned. The Gosconcert, as I have already mentioned, is the place from where all theatre activity, concerts and musicals that took place in Moscow were planned.

Any foreign guests coming in connected to these spheres of activity also came under their supervision and guidance. Even the theatre fare of each Theatre House was decided in consultation with the Gosconcert. So I came to know. I don't know if the system prevails still, Perhaps most unlikely.

They had a very cordial and friendly chat with me at the Gosconcernt. They had drawn up a schedule of activity for me based as far as possible, on my own proposals. My main proposal was to see as much theatre as possible, and visit as many Actor Training Institutes etc. in Moscow, during the first four months of my fellowship.

I proposed to travel to other cities such as Leningrad, Riga. Kiev, Baku and Tashkent and see their (provincial) theatre as well and visit places of interest.

Student-observer

At the Gosconcert they told me that they were very happy to have a student-observer from the East. Apparently I was their first student-observer in the recent past from our climes. They were very happy to accommodate me in Moscow and expose me to as much activity as possible.

"There would be certain problems when it comes to sending you to other far away cities." They told me. "There would be problems of providing you with an interpreter to travel with you, his or her expenses etc. But anyway let's come to that when the time comes. Meanwhile do enjoy your stay in Moscow and make full use of it."

The spectacled man behind the imposing table told me further. "Sir, I am very keen to travel and see and experience your other marvellous cities too." I replied earnestly.

"I am sure UNESCO will agree to bear the expenses. "Gaspadin Jayasena, (he pronounced my name correctly) let's address that matter when the time comes." The man smiled broadly, ending our interview.

Interview

Something I noticed during our interview was that my interpreter, Vasily, hardly ever spoke, neither did he offer to make any suggestion. When he did venture to on just one or two points, there was a look from the 'big man' behind the table which clearly said that his contribution was unnecessary and Vasily obliged with a tight little smile.

That evening, being a holiday for Theatres, I was to meet my unseen friend from our Embassy in Moscow-Karen Breckenridge.

Thought of the week

One of our veteran Civil Servants, now retired, has written a very interesting book consisting of his childhood memories of his native village - Mullegama situated in the green spreads of the Western Province. The man is Amaradasa Gunewardhana, who has served in a number of capacities under several Governments.

I believe the highlight of his career was his long spell as Govt. Agent, Polonnaruwa, to which beloved home from home, he returns annually to immerse himself with the people he loved and served and to breathe the rustic air he had enriched with many a new venture.

The book titled 'Ma Lama Kaalaye Mage Gama' (My village of my childhood) is written with love, nostalgia and a deep rooted belonging. Amaradasa dedicates his book to his mother - 'To my Rattaran Amma, born in the village of Mullegama and buried in the cemetery of Katukurunduhena of the village itself, who brought us up with incomparable love and led us on the good path.'

The book is extremely good reading. With this book, Amaradasa joins the small fraternity of retired Civil Servants who have wielded their pen for the greater good of future generations - who may never see a Pinna bloom, a 'unahapuluwa', a 'sudu redi hora', or a 'kaha kurulla'.

My humble salutations to you, my friend, for this piece of wonderment, joys and sorrows and above all, the memory of a real village as only we saw it.

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