Pirith

For a good description of a standard Sri Lankan Pirith ceremony visit: www.kothmale.org/kcrwebsite/english/past_events/pirith/site/index.htm

Nathaliege Palaweni Upan Diniya

(Sinhalin kataa karanne onee, itin teranne amaruy, sinhalin kataa karanna baeriot)  Mee pintuuree Narada ayyay, Chamelika akkiy, Nathalie babaay.  Ada Nathaliege palaweni upan diniya, ee nisa gedera gihilla, saemaruwa.  Raeae kalaye, hamduruo awila pirith kiuwa.  iita passe, waninaakirima tibuna.  Mama santoosa una gihin tiyenawa.  Mage pawulouy, eegolange yaluwouy bohoma honday.  Hambawela godak kaemeti una.  Samahara sinhalin kataa kera, namut waDama baeluway aehuway.  yata, video eka pirith kiyanna kotta, man gatta.  mage amma kiuwa kamak naeae kiyela, video keranna puluwan una kiyela.  awaasenaawantaTa, mame kalin piTat una mokeda Asanka awila itin maTa yanna onee una.  kamak naeae, mama inne kotta hari satatuy, passe ayeth hambawenewa.  

Just to clarify, above is a picture of Narada ayya, Chamelika akki, and their daughter (my niece) Nathalie - pronounced "nuh-taaah-lee."  Below is a video of a small portion of tonight's pirith.

It Rained

On the 10th of August 2006, the final day of the Aesala Perahera (the annual tooth relic procession in Kandy), I was sitting in Sinhala class when the skies opened up and let forth a deluge of rain.  It was the first rain of the season, and I noted it my journal at the time because the rain literally began at the moment that Punchi Meegaskumbura (mage guruwaraya) finished describing the legendary rain-producing power of the Tooth.  

The tooth relic, considered by many to be the most important corporeal relic of the Buddha (and certainly the most socially and politically relevant in Sri Lanka) was brought to the island in the 4th century A.D. whereupon it became a symbol of sovereignty; the "palladium of Sinhalese kingship" (as a side note: the British captured the relic in 1818, thereby symbolically assuring their political domination).  The relic developed as a symbol of sovereignty largely because of the understanding that it had rain-making powers, –  powers that legitimized a ruler's sovereignty by assuring his control over the (agricultural) prosperity of the kingdom.  

About one hundred years after its arrival, the dalada (tooth relic) and its perahera (procession) were described in the travel accounts of Fa-Hien, a Chinese monk who visited the ancient Sri Lankan capitol of Anuradhapura in the 5th century.  Fa-Hien's descriptions locate the perahera as having occurred during the height of the dry season, thereby tying the celebration of the relic to a petition for rain.  The relic now resides the in Dalada Maligawa (the Temple of the Tooth) in Kandy, and though it is featured in the annual perahera, the full exhibition of the relic occurs only once every seven or so years.  Well, the once-in-seven-years event happens to be occurring right now (for ten days–from the 6th of March until the 16th).  It seems that in consideration of the Central Province's current dry spell, the lay custodian of the relic (the diya vidana nilame - literally: "water-increasing-official") scheduled the exhibition for early March.  So, thousands upon thousands of people from all over Sri Lanka are making the pilgrimage to Maha Nuwara (Kandy) to see the dalada.  There are five separate lines into the temple and most people spend up to half the day waiting in one of them before they get a chance to get a brief glimpse of the relic.  

After three rainless months, the exhibition of the Tooth began yesterday.  At five o'clock, it rained.  

Vestiges of British Colonialism: Harry Potter sans Quidditch

The British educational system, established in Sri Lanka during the 19th century, may be one of the most obvious vestiges of Sri Lanka's British colonial heritage.  This week I attended two events in Kandy (the Kandy Girls' High School Annual Inter-House Sports Meet and University of Peradeniya's General Convocation) which demonstrate the ongoing influence of British academic customs and conventions (paired with Kandyan flare).  

The Kandy Girls' High School Annual Inter-House Sports Meet was straight out of Harry Potter (minus the quidditch).  The school, which has about 4,500 students, is divided up into four houses (Sanson, Lawrence, Eaton, and Langdon) in order to compete annually for the school cup.  Marks are given to houses throughout the year for good disciplinary records, athletic victories, and the like, but the final competition and marks tally comes down to the annual Sports Meet.  This year's event (the 130th annual Sports Meet) began, presumably as it always has, with the four house captains circling the arena and lighting the ceremonial torch (think olympics) as "Chariots of Fire" blared over the sound system.  [Other epic songs blared over the sound system throughout the day included Queen's "We are the Champions" and Europe's "The Final Countdown"]  By 1 o'clock the events had begun.  Most events were related to track and field, but there were also band displays and dancing.  My favorite portion of the meet involved about 400 girls (100 from each house) and 20 minutes of dancing: the Drill Display (see video footage above).  

On Thursday, I donned my Kandyan saree and ventured off to Peradeniya to attend the 2008 General Convocation.  After wandering around campus for about fifteen lonely (deer-in-the-head-lights type) minutes, I finally found the entrance that I was supposed to use (I'd been given a faculty ticket from the director of the ISLE Program who couldn't attend due to a scheduling conflict).  It turned out that I didn't need to wait in any of the parents' lines which, in order to accommodate the thousands of attendees and create an orderly process, stretched out across the university grounds, winding around buildings and through fields.  For security purposes, no water, cameras, bags, umbrellas, or even cell phones were allowed into the gymnasium where the convocation was being held, so I entered with just my ticket.  Though I was seated by about 8:30, it took another hour for all of the 1,500 "graduands" to be seated and the Chancellor's procession to arrive.  Apart from a few ceremonial flourishes–like the Kandyan drummers leading the procession and the lighting of the traditional oil lamps–the convocation was not unlike your run of the mill U.S. university graduation.  So, in other words, attendees were subject to the usual boredom of listening to two hours worth of names being read.  Don't get me wrong, I am so glad to have seen the convocation, but there's not a Sri Lankan there who would tell you that it wasn't a little tedious, including the "graduands."  

I'm grateful to have attended both the sports meet and the convocation, as they provided insight into not only the Sri Lankan iteration of the British educational system, but also into student life in Sri Lanka and the educational experiences of my Sri Lankan family and friends.  

Program Photo Album

For pictures that I've taken of the ISLE Program check out:

http://www.bowdoin.edu/isle/2009-spring-program/s09-arrival.shtml

and

http://www.bowdoin.edu/isle/2009-spring-program/s09-session1.shtml

(you may need to cut and paste the URL)

U.S. Senate Gives its Two Cents

Excerpts from Deborah Tate's report today (25 February 2009): US Senate Panel Discusses Sri Lanka

"Senator Bob Casey, a Pennsylvania Democrat, chaired [a U.S. Senate hearing yesterday on Sri Lanka].  He called for both sides in the conflict to come to a political settlement.  'Should the war end and the broader Tamil population continue to face systemic discrimination by and inadequate representation in the Sri Lankan government, the Tamil Tigers may once again be driven underground to carry out acts of terror, perpetuating another go-around in this vicious cycle of violence.  So far, there are few indications that a political deal is imminent.  The government of Sri Lanka will not negotiate directly with the LTTE, but it does not appear the government has much interest in finding alternative Tamil interlocutors, nor have the Tamils presented credible alternatives to the LTTE,' he said.

"Sri Lanka's military says its forces advanced Tuesday into the last rebel stronghold in [the] northeastern part of the country.

"The LTTE has said it is open to a limited cease-fire and a political solution, but has rejected calls to disarm.  The government has rejected anything short of the rebels' unconditional surrender."

Charandas–a South Asian Robin Hood

In 2002, I saw a production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream in Lyon, France.  The production, performed at one of the city's massive open-air Roman amphitheaters, was quirky and ludic–an embodiment of Puck's mischievousness.  The dialogue (in French) was largely lost on me, but the creative splashes (the mirror-surfaced stage, Bottom's costume after his transformation into a donkey, the eccentric interpretation of the play within the play, Puck's miniature bicycle that he used to catapult himself across the stage...) translated across linguistic barriers.  The production was, for me, accessible as a form of live art despite my inability to comprehend the nuances of the dialogue.  And isn't this the essence of theatrical creativity,–that even if the dialogue is incomprehensible to certain audience members, the art of the performance and production translate to everyone in the audience.   

I think that A Midsummer Night's Dream in particular lends itself to idiosyncratic artistic interpretations and creative licensing, but the beauty of all live theater is the potential for the singularity of its creation, its transitivity and temporality, and–as Shakespeare's title professes–its capacity to be like a dream.  

The reason that I am recalling my experience in Lyon is that I recently attended a theater production in Sri Lanka, and like the production in France, the language barrier (this time Sinhala) resulted in me struggling to follow the dialogue.  Despite my confusion about characters and plot, the overall experience was one of great cultural and artistic appreciation.  

Last week, the University of Peradeniya theater festival brought acting troupes from all throughout Sri Lanka to perform at its Sarachchandra Open Air Theater (named for a former Peradeniya professor who is considered to be the father of Sinhalese drama).  The theater seats somewhere between 3,000 to 3,500 people, as there are about 30 - 35 rows with room for at least a hundred people in each.  It's clear that the amphitheater's architect made an effort to accommodate the natural environment when the theater was built, as is evident in the steepness of the arena seating (built directly into the natural hillside) and the massive tree that grows undisturbed about half-way up and half-way into the half-moon radial of the stone seats.  On campus, the open-air theater is referred to as the "wala" or the "hole."

The theater may seat 3,000 to 3,500 people, but for a popular play – like the one that we went to – the rows fill long before the play begins.  So as to avoid the last minute scramble for seats, we arrived an hour early for the production of Charandas (a subaltern Indian classic; written first in Hindi, then translated to English, and then translated from English into Sinhala).  We settled down and munched on fresh peanuts as we waited.  By the time the show began, all 3,500 seats had been filled.  The monks in the audience were the last to arrive.  Because the monks have two rows reserved for them, they don't need to arrive early and avoid the crowds.  Our seats were located directly behind the musicians: two drummers, a serpinaa player, and a violinist who played his instrument backwards–making chords with his right hand and holding the bow with his left (maybe it was the Sri Lankan equivalent of Jimi Hendrix's upside down guitar?)  

The title character of the play, Charandas, is essentially a South Asian Robin Hood; he's a lovable rogue who steals from the rich and gives to the poor.  The play begins with Charadas swiping gold trinkets from the local monarch and distributing the stolen goods to the townspeople.  Soon thereafter, he is caught and exposed as a thief.  In the midst of Charandas' capture, however, the King discovers that his Queen has been having an affair with his chief minister... I'm still quite mixed up about the rest of it, but mayhem, hilarity, and dramatic denouement ensue.  

The outlandish plot twists were sometimes difficult to keep up with, but the actors gave excellent comedic performances that negated the need to understand the subtleties of Sinhala.  My favorite scenes capitalized on the slap-stick brilliance of Charandas (the thief) and the maladroit (yet lovable) constable.  The audience validated their exaggerated exchanges and zany gesticulations with eruptions of laughter.  

The evening was wonderful.  Magical.  (And when I think about the production, I taste freshly roasted peanuts.)