Day 68, Churuthuruthy [Saturday 9th February 2008]
Previous day: Day 67, Fort Cochin, Kerala [Friday 8th February 2008]
Next day: Day 69, Alleppey [Sunday 10th February 2008]
Banana pancakes for breakfast! That's pancakes, bananas, sugar, sultanas, cardamom and coconut milk, mmmmmmm!
We leave Fort Cochin today, so we get the ferry to Ernakulam, bus to Trissur, have lunch at Malabari — mutton dum biryani, veg curry and fruit salad — then get a bus to Churuthuruthy. There we take a look at the room we've reserved at the River Retreat hotel, decide it's not worth Rs. 2500, and leave. The River Retreat is some sort of spa resort, and when we get there a couple are having their overly dramatic wedding photos taken in the grounds.
When we reach the dusty main road of the town we see a sign for a Government Guest House, so we go up and ask if they have a room. We've obviously disturbed an important card game, as a roomful of grumpy civil servants turn to look at us as we stand in the doorway with our bags on our backs. Three of them churlishly rouse themselves from their seated or laying down positions around the office and get out a big reservations book, ask to see our passports, and grudgingly offer us a room for Rs. 220. Bargain! The room is upstairs in a large building surrounded by a veranda. We pass one room, the curtains of which have a gap in them, through which we can see several men laying on beds in the dark. Our room is big, and quite plain, with just a double bed, a fan and a couple of basic desks. It'll certainly do for one night, as we've come here specially to see the Mohiniyattam dance at the Kalamandalam, a major educational centre for the traditional performing arts.
Around dusk we walk up to the Kalamandalam theatre through the dark, dusty town. There's just one road going through it, and nowhere to eat, but we get some tea. The Kalamandalam theatre is impressive, its sharply angled tile roof and wooden slat walls resembling traditional Keralan temples. We peer through a gap in the ornate wall and see the spectacular interior, with carvings and pillars lit by candles. A boy in the shadows signals to us to walk around the other side of the building. We do so, and find that we are 'backstage'. A man sits on a straw mat, lit starkly by a single light bulb hanging down from the ceiling in front of his face. He is putting on thick makeup, and gestures to us to sit with him. He introduces himself, in English, as the principal of the Kalamandalam school. His face is yellowy-orange and he is painting on thick black eyebrows. He says the character he is playing tonight is Sita, from the Ramayana, the god-king Rama's wife. He says he will be performing a new theme tonight, a dramatisation of a poem wherein Sita is looking back on her life. He thinks this new item will draw a large crowd of his students form the school. altogether he has 400 pupils there, and 48 teachers.
He paints black wisps of hair on each of his temples, a large red bindi and bright red lips. He tells us he has performed in London, at the Nehru Centre in Mayfair (it's the Indian Embassy's cultural centre) as well as at many other venues around the world. After chatting for a while we go through the the main theatre and take a seat in the floor. The theatre is built like a temple, the traditional venue for Kathakali performances. There are grey stone pillars, wooden friezes of gods around the walls and oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. The stage is low, about 1.5 feet high, and the audience, nearly all young students, sit around us on mats.
First we watch a Mohiniyattam dance — 5 girls in identical white and gold costumes, with striking makeup and bells on their ankles. They perform a heavily stylised routine, with dextrous hand movements and expressive faces. Next up is a solo Mohiniyattam dance, which tells a story through the esoteric movements, a language of dance of which we understand neither the grammar or vocabulary. It's a pleasant spectacle, and the live sung vocals and music are piercing and powerful.
Then comes the Kathakali, stylized, drawn-out narrative dance performance. An oil lamp is lit at the front of the stage. A curtain is brought out and held at head height across the stage. The music starts — drums, cymbals and two mournful vocalists. It builds and builds, then the curtain is removed to reveal Sita, clad in a large flowing skirt, with long black hair and a medieval looking hair ribbon. She is sitting on a chair looking pensive. Over the next 2 hours she goes through cycles of recalling and acting out episodes from her life, occasionally coming back to the present day and the chair, sometimes laying on the floor clutching it in distress at the bad memories she is reliving. It's a clever dance, and compelling. Although the language of intricate hand movements and signals is incomprehensible the drama of the piece remains intact. Not least when Sita throws herself into the fire which is to become her funeral pyre, the roaring, sparking fire here represented by torrents of dropping rose petals.
We speak to the principal again afterwards and he asks us if we understood everything. We laugh and say of course not, but we got the general idea. He gives us his card and email address and says he hopes to see us again when he's next in London.
Meeting the principal, the ambience of the Kalamandalam theatre and the originality and drama of the Kathakali made tonight an extremely memorable night.
We walk back to the Government Guest House in utter darkness. There are no street lights and only one shop open where we buy some fruit for dinner.
Next day: Day 69, Alleppey [Sunday 10th February 2008]
Previous day: Day 67, Fort Cochin, Kerala [Friday 8th February 2008]