The Third Week

There is a Kerala festival on at Darpana this week and it was kicked off yesterday by what was described on the poster as "traditional folk dances and music". I'm not entirely sure how best I could describe it, other than I don't entirely agree with that particular definition.

It was opened by an item that was not programmed and was very last minute which consisted of the Darpana musicians and Papin dancing (they're all Keralan). This was very good! Papin was dancing a bit of Kalari, which is a Southern Indian martial art, but he transforms it into a dance. And the musicians are great. So that was really enjoyable. I really would have like it to stop there.

The scheduled act came on. It was a musician who played a variety of traditional Keralan instruments which no doubt had a fascinating history. The problem was he only spoke Malaylam and while he blabbered on to an audience made up of about 95% of people who didn't understand him, a translator was sought after, only to find one who was a sweet, bumbling Ayurvedic doctor well known to chatter for 3 hours after your appointment is finished. So he comes on stage and starts speaking really odd English which I couldn't understand at all, elaborting on whatever the Malayli musician had been saying and adding in his own anecdotes, which from what I could understand where pretty bad. Though, as I said, I didn't really understand much.

The whole thing was pretty damn hilarious, but the humour did wear off after a while. Plus, the instruments may have had an interesting background, but the two we were treated to played essentially one note over and over again resulting in song after song after song sounding exactly the same. Well, how was the dancing, you may ask? As it was a dance and music festival. I can only reply that it was fairly non existent! There was one spectacular moment when a man appeared at the back of the audience screaming, his face painted fantastically in black with white markings all over it and red lips so still we initially thought he was wearing a mask. He looked amazing, but didn't really do anything after that. Then there was more chatting and more same song singing. Then the musician invited some children on stage to do the Peacock Dance. This audience participation was opened up to us in a very unclear way and when a few bewildered children finally shuffled reluctantly on stage they were given no further indication of what they were meant to do. Suddenly the same previous dancer now dressed in a very odd peacock costume, came screeching towards them, feathers flailing wildy towards the children's faces, grabbed their hands and started strutting around leading the kids in a sort of uncertain and confused dance across the stage. Amusing, weird and most of all not so good. After that was over he said he was going to sing a song and said it was open for anyone to come up on stage and dance. No further explanation again. This should probably have been planned a little in advance as nobody told the western tourists they needed to take their shoes off before going on stage (performers will touch the stage with their fingers then place their fingers to their face as a sort of blessing before they go on stage, even to just rehearse, to thank the floor for letting it be used). So I sit back and realise I'm watching an Indian girl who looked pretty high, two white western tourists and a really geeky looking Indian guy dancing terribly on stage to terrible music. What the hell am I doing? So I got up and left. It's pretty awkward to leave a show when there's so many people we know in the audience, but I honestly couldn't stay any longer. We blamed Indira's stomach and made a run for it. I think tonight I'm going to sit at the back. This morning Papin turned to me and said that it was no representative of Keralan folk traditions (without me asking him or saying how I felt) and we both agreed it was pretty god awful.

So this morning I got to Darpana at 8, half an hour before mum and Indira, and did a warm up, worked on a routine with Papin and taught Manoj and Kisho, then cooled down in time for chai at about 9.45. It was a pretty productive morning and we've almost entirely finished the puppets and props, so when Elsa asked if I'd like to go with her to the Art Book Shop I agreed. I'm so glad I did it was totally beautiful! It's on the corner of this gorgeous, quiet little street next to the railway bridge (so not THAT quiet). You go through a metal door painted yellow and red and up a small staircase to the balcony of this little building decorated with mirrored hangings, patterned postcards and miniatures of traditional paintings. The shop consists of a tiny room off the balcony totally filled with books, more cards and various nick nacks including a good collection of time pieces. The guy who owns it is great; really chatty. Under the stairs there is a cupboard opening out onto the street with enough space to fit a man and his sewing machine in it. And that's exactly what's in there. Brilliant.

Now I'm heading back in to Darpana to help out with whatever is needed, maybe go on the silks again as Papin seems to think we can (although there's a show on tonight so I don't know!). Hopefully we'll get some time and continue with the teaching and choreography!