Engineering Saves DRAMSOC from “The Noose”

DRAMSOC 2014 – the inter-faculty English Drama contest at Peradeniya – was a colossal disaster, given the shoddiness and mediocrity in the performances by the Faculties of Science and Arts, whose lack of application represented 2/3rds of the contest. In an appalling first half of the show, these two Faculties gave us a very clinical display as to why one shouldn’t have been there to Peradeniya’s EOE Pereira Theater that evening, for their performances were utter embarrassments, whatever way one may want to analyze them. Science – who has over the past half a decade developed a knack for slapstick (with which they got lucky last year) – came up with a combined ear and eyesore with a tedious rehash of the Cinderella story, titled “The Substitute”. Of course, the folks laughed, but in this case, it was far from being the best medicine for a bad sense of humour and comedy that didn’t pick up above a very primitive taste and sense of the aesthetic.

Arts came on stage second, and as a Faculty that had dictated terms to the competition over the past decade (winning it on all instances except last year), the expectations were high. Earlier, a lecturer attached to the Faculty had given me a heads up saying that the Arts script was quite enigmatic. If, indeed, it was enigmatic, the enigma failed to translate into action, for what I saw was a badly rehearsed, badly coordinated, badly acted out display of a morality play, much alike “Everyman”: a liturgical dramatization from the Medieval Ages – a play put on to make English peasants feel good about God and to renew their faith in the Almighty. The Arts production was very superficial and naïve, lacking any political or social depth; which can best be summarized as a philistine enterprise from a Faculty that has seen better days (and better plays).

From “The Noose” (Photo by Sameera Abeysuriya. Copyrights acknowledged. Used in this blog for non-commercial purposes)

What was evident in both Science and Arts was that the players seemed not to have a sense of theater, or had had exposure to any serious drama. There seemed to be a lack of understanding as to what was fundamentally expected out of them, as well as a deficiency in reading society and the times, which one can do even as you produce your fairytale or morality play. Science retained a gimmick which they fielded last year – a dressed up pantomime of the Rajapakshe-oriented politic, where Prince Charming was a dimwit in a saatakaya, more preoccupied with toy trains than anything else. But, Arts disappointed at least several of us (which I am sure is as modest as my estimate gets) in the bench on which I was seated, for being a production from a Faculty that is (hypothetically) several notches more exposed to and inter-twined with the Humanities and Social Probe than her counterparts of the day.

The first half of the show can be aptly summed up by a statement made by a fellow seated quite close to me, who, after the interval, observed that it was thoughtful of the Organizers to serve snacks in the middle of the programme and not at the beginning; as, had they done otherwise, we would have puked the food out by the half way stage.

The second half, however, was dominated by a powerful performance by the Faculty of Engineering, who staged “The Noose”: a psychologically-informed, socially-conscious theatrical venture, which was the clear winner of the evening’s proceedings. The plotline covers the story of a young man, who, in order to save the life of his terminally ill sister, goes all out, selling his property and getting into debt. Finally, he even resorts to “dark arts”, where his own daughter is sacrificed in a bidding of blood-for-blood; which, however, doesn’t cure the ill-fated woman. The play ends with the man’s own suicide, where he hangs himself. “The Noose” was in many respects “theater” and manipulated the concept to an aesthetically pleasing advantage. Engineering seemed to have studied the discourse of DRAMSOC quite well, understanding the dramatic thump that was in demand and had maneuvered their energies in coming up with a relatable and palpable script which they could play “within their limits”. Arts, on the other hand, seemed to have a more ambitious undertaking, as the script they invested on was felt to be too heavy for the talent they could muster.

The cast from “The Noose”

The Engineering Faculty’s “The Noose” comes as the latest of a sequence of socially-conscious and politically perceptive theater with which they have been working over the past several years. In 2013, they staged “The Serpent”, which I felt was a radical intervention with the ultra-nationalist political discourse of Sinhala Buddhist chauvinism. Earlier they had produced “Welikada 71”, dealing with the moral and ethical aspects of Capital Punishment. However, I detect a monotony and repetitiveness in these themes perused by the Engineering drama engine; but, I wouldn’t necessarily call it a drawback, as they seem to be producing the only theater that carries a substance and resonance. After all, what the fuck can one do with the substitute to the Fairy God mother, or a morality play acted in a high school spirit?

While Arts, Science and Engineering rallied to DRAMSOC’s call, their fourth inconsistent but “elite” cousin, the Faculty of Medicine, was a non-participant this year (as well). Medicine, who used to be an award winning performer throughout the competition has been on “medically prescribed rest” more often than not, in the past few years. I am told that their non-aligned policy is owed to internal politics of the Faculty’s studentship (as DRAMSOC is seen as a non-rag / ala activity); but, then, again, I am sure these tensions were there all along all these years, too. One of the judges, Kanchuka Dharmasiri, made a brief note of the absence of Faculties other than the participant three: those categorically and unexceptionally excluded by the Ceylon Drama Society’s (DRAMSOC) Apartheid policy over the past decade or so.

The plays were judged by Kanchuka Dharmasiri, Aslam Marikar and Liyanage Amarakeerthi. Engineering bagged all the main awards, except “Best Costume”, which was won by Arts. The Organizers had a musical item at the end to “fill” either the interval taken by the judges to finalize things, if not to neutralize the cavity left by the missing play. The music, however, looked way out of place – both in song selection, as well as the need to have such an item in the first place – and was anti-climactic in the aftermath of the Engineering Faculty’s performance. The Organizing Committee, was prim and precise in their ties and coats, along with a novel item: a badge they wore pinned to the dress, much akin to what high school prefects and society members wear. Among other things, this latter item reminded us of our high school days, which seemed some way off from our days at University.    

 

 

Into Alter-Reality: Movement Away from the Metropolis in Jack Kerouac’s “The Dharma Bums” and Sean Penn’s “Into the Wild”.

Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums (1958) and Sean Penn’s Into the Wild (2007) – the latter, a movie based on the book by the same name, authored by Jon Krakauer (1996) – seam through each other at several crucial narrative moments. Kerouac’s biographical text, narrated through the protagonist Ray Smith has essentially to do with renunciation and unburdening of the self and spirit from material and worldly distraction. In fact, the axis of the book delves into the heart of Zen in practice: a form of Buddhism with its cult and rituals with which Smith immerses himself, in search of a transcendence of sorts.

Personally, the “transcendence” The Dharma Bums is in propagation of is not palpable to me; perhaps, because I am a non-believer and an alien with the unburdening that is sustained through the travels and experiences of Ray Smith. But, as a response formed and fashioned in the metropolitan cultural space of production in the post-world war II generation – and contextualized within Kerouac’s larger corpus (of which I am insufficiently familiar) – the physical and spiritual “breakaway” as championed by the text makes sense and carries weight. Kerouac’s immersion into Zen Buddhist rituals is primarily a form of “escape” and an alternation that is meant to off set the metropolitan cultural practice. This is too obviously promoted through the duality which is consistent throughout the text: the synthesis of the mutually opposed trajectories of “renunciation” and “metropolitanism”.

The descriptions of hardcore “city life”, punctuated by long drawn parties – of which Smith and Japhy Ryder are prominently featured – and in and out movements from typically metropolitan scenes form a neat juxtaposition with sublime descriptions of nature, musings on recluse semi-isolated movement and of cult rituals drawn from the Zen. However, the further the book unfolds the trajectory of withdrawal becomes more centralized and pivotal. Smith’s occupation as a fire lookout in a distant and desolate peak, at one level, gives a sense of “stability” and “firmness”, as opposed to constant movement we find in the opening sections of the book. Then, again, the same occupation gives a sense of structure and spatiality to the “reclusion” which the spirit is in search of.

The withdrawal to the mountain, once again, resonates unmistakable echoes of East Asian and South Asian spiritual forms, where the soul in search of salvation makes a symbolic retreat to the mountains. For instance, in the Hindutva tradition, one’s life span is identified in four “ashrams”, of which two are dedicated to domestic life and materialism. Then, at one point of life, the individual is expected to prepare himself for the inevitable climacteric drive. The “Vaanaprastha” and “Sanyaasi” ashrams are oriented at unburdening the self of commitment and indulgence. The third ashram often contextualizes a symbolic withdrawal from homely and domestic life. The same can be found in Japanese and Chinese traditions. Many are the folk tales and legends in these traditions where recluse and withdrawal of the discussed form are presented as an integral part of folk spirituality.

Sean Penn’s Into the Wild narrates the story of Christopher McCandless who, in rejection of the upper middle class life to which he has been conformed from a young age by his typically class and career-minded parents, withdraws into a life of isolation and nature, where he eventually perishes on his own. The story builds up from Christopher leaving his University without leaving any definite word, even as he is en route to a successful academic career, as reflected by his high school grades.

Christopher’s parents, we learn, are hardworking professionals living the crass “middle class” dreams by which their satisfactions and antipathies are governed. The non-linear narrative takes us through a tormented and uncertain child and young adulthood, where Chris and his sister Karen are consistently the witnesses of domestic abuse and discord. Chris’ leaving the family, therefore, has a strong protestant vibe, but underneath is a rupture which he effects in upsetting the “upper middle class” normative and set play.

The storyline is set where Chris fends for himself – either by taking up odd jobs while on the move – or, in the worst cases, by living off the earth and by shooting wild game. He arrives at Alaska, where he hopes to camp, and settles down in an abandoned bus, which he baptizes as “the magic bus”. Chris keeps records and notes of his experiences and feelings – the ultimate sourcebook which is found after his death, caused by poisonous roots which he consumes without being aware.

Chris’ meeting with Ron is a crucial passage in the story. Ron is an old leather worker with whom Chris stays for a while before proceeding to Alaska – his fatal trek. Here, in Ron’s company, Chris learns the trade and they form a mutual bonding which results in Ron expressing his desire to adopt Chris as a grandchild. In Ron we meet the “father figure” of whom Chris’ life is in want of. In fact, the chief catalyst of Chris’ depressive connection with his home, as shown, is his own biological father. His withdrawal from “home” in search of a more stimulating harmony is triggered by the fractured domestic state, which is offset by passages of play that introduce Ron (as well as, I must include, Chris’ stay with Raney and Jan) and his comforting facility. Ron himself had lost his family in a car accident and the classic “father-meets-son” motif is played out with much warmth and emotion.

Unlike Kerouac’s Ray Smith, in Christopher McCandless there is a deep resentment and dejection that draws him to a life in seclusion. Or rather, the way Into the Wild unfolds there is emphasis of a more “holistic” picture on renunciation: its causes and effects; its precedents and results. Kerouac’s narrative style and principles doesn’t uphold the same patterns as entertained in Penn’s cinematography. However, the film ends with a note of despair and disillusionment, as Christopher – in his dire moments – backtracks on his earlier convictions of extreme isolation. In fact, he tries to “return to civilization”, as it were, but fails to do so, as nature’s force itself stands in his way. This didactic and “revelatory” ending, I felt, was an anti-climax of a sort; specially, at the tail end of a rich and memorably woven text. This sense was heightened by the fact that, unlike Kerouac’s protagonists, Christopher – throughout the narrative – is both agendaless and uncompromising in his withdrawal to nature: a breakaway that is no self-conscious or tentative “escapism”, but an act where the means and the end coincide.

Note: My gratitude and sincere thanks to Mr. Samodh Pterodactylus for introducing me to Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums.

Aslam Marikar and Sri Theater: “The 21st Century Monk”. Pluses, Minuses and Pauses.

Aslam Marikar

In the course of the play, the needle that threads the five scenes together – Waruna, the young, disillusioned lawyer – moves from an upright vocal position to a slumped mute phase, a sprawled, seat-less passage; and finally, to an unconscious mugged up position, prostrate and senseless. Aslam Marikar’s “Twenty First Century Monk”, in its occupation with space and with movement, is a strong rebuke of Lankan politics, as we have come to inherit it. There is no open ideological barrage, but with subtle evocations borrowed from our day-to-day living spaces, Marikar provokes a discussion of how Lanka – akin to Waruna – has been pulled down and beaten senseless.

The politics of which Marikar speaks includes “domestic politics”, the politics of “the law being a document without a conscience or consciousness”, “religious politics”, “prison politics”, “caste/class politics”, “region-based politics” etc. Even as the audience greets with gusto the philandering Ajith (Sidath Samarakoon) and his pinching the bum of his mistress Catherine (Ruwanthi Karunarathna) – who, so to self-consciously exhaust the cliché, is the “best” friend of Ajith’s wife Anoma – the political underpinnings of the text have already begun to sting. In fact, the play fiddles with the political consciousness of the audience, who may howl with laughter borrowed from a Jack London novel; but who is asked to take a step back and apply the formula to their own prides and prejudices.

There are two places in the play where “regionalism” and “caste” get spoken of. One is in the extensive Ajith-Anoma domestic scene, while a reprise of the same issue is injected into the Asylum Scene. Curiously enough, part of the non-economy class rows were filled with several famous faces from Kandy’s elite, semi-elite and wannabe-elite hoods, for whom being “Kandyan” and being with “upcountry ancestry” matters several times more than the gold-plated jewellery they wear to the “Twenty First Century Monk” premier. These under-evolved specimens of the Central Province were heard to laugh a bit louder when the “lunatic” with the bandanna and Che Guevara shirt, “Rohana” (Darren David, a.k.a DJ Danny) condemns the walauva class as those who betrayed the country, as that is how elites generally laugh.

An Ashwin Jayalath shot of the play being rehearsed. Bandhuka Premawardena and Praweena Bandara.

The “Asylum scene” was a powerful role play of Lanka’s six decades of post-independence. Here, we have four characters – Richard, Samanmalee, Munidasa and Rohana – who are in a “nut house” (as Rohana constantly reminds us), contributing to mutual chaos and engaging in a series of overlapping “mad acts”. Rohana with his Che T-shirt and consistent criticism of Richard and Samanmalee (both claiming to be of aristocratic descent) could possibly be a caricature of the slain JVP leaderRohana Wijeweera. Munidasa, in Arya Sinhala suit and with pedantic speech, mock represents the “nationalist sentiment” of which all mainstream political parties, including the JVP, have been consorts since Independence. Richard – a proponent of the West and with the same first name as the country’s first Executive President – woos both Samanmalee (from a Kandyan walauva, and casted to shadow Sirima Bandaranaike) and Munidasa in a “role play” of power politics. Samanmalee, at one point, accuses Rohana of attempted rape (1971), while Richard beats Rohana up (1987-89), thus, “saving” Samanmalee.

The commentary on “religious politics” was executed with daring, as a robust, thug-like monk – in every aspect down to the brand of spectacles – who can but be the doppelganger of the Bodhu Bala Sena General Secretary interferes to disperse a “charlatan” at practice. Even as I don’t attempt a scene-to-scene analysis of the play, Marikar’s rapid shifts into diverse political spaces of the nation and his dramatization of these pluralities were intriguing, to say the least. The Prison Scene with which the play ends should also be mentioned in this regard, even though that was one of the least projected passages of play.

“Twenty First Century Monk”, I am told, was an experimentation in production. The cast consisted of a myriad talent drawn from a diverse range, bringing in different theater experience into the play. Some, I am told, had never crossed a stage before. Among the players, I learn, were Account Analysts, Insurance Salesmen, Rockers, students, Supermodels, DJs, Physician Doctors and those unemployed. However, one of my concerns was as to whether the cast in its present form could carry the weight of the demanding, multi-layered script with which Aslam Marikar opens the curtain. The play consists of a strong legal-ethical, philosophical topping, drilling into existentialist musings and questionings of the self and existence. I have a feeling that some of the punch lines were missed, resulting in our viewing experience being like watching a Boxing bout on a TV with bad reception.

Some Scenes – such as the Prison Scene, for instance – was badly compromised by amateurish / “under-rehearsed” play. This largely neutralized strong moments and passages carved through the acting of players such as Anaz Haniffa (Richard / The Don), Praweena Bandara (Samanmalee) and DJ Danny (Rohana). Marikar’s fusion of a variety of humours – from classical Old Comedy to contemporary Dark Humour forms – was a refreshing blend, with textual and situational comedy aligned along slapstick, farce and burlesque. Elsewhere, it was mentioned that the play strived to cross wires between the Nadagam Tradition and the Classical Western mould: an experiment which came out without too many short circuits; if, as mentioned, the cast could be pushed one gear atop.

From the Ajith-Anoma household; Lona Wijesekara and Imesha Athukorale (C/O Ashwin Jayalath)

Personally, I felt that casting choices could be rethought of in one or two cases, and that a re-visioning of the “tempo” of Waruna’s initial monologue could have helped things a bit. But, that is my thinking out loud and I am not the Producer or the Casting Manager. But, as a whole, the play delivered to the audience, tickling them to tears, though I wonder whether some of the nuances – of the nuances that were palpably projected – tickled the right places in the right way. Of course, part of the audience was “ready to be pleased” (which is understandable) and another was of a slightly thicker hide. It also factors in as to what and what not an audience is in search for in a play: are we all equally in search of existentialist angst and philosophical moping; or, are we equally motivated by the bum pinching and the stepping on a banana peel?

“Twenty First Century Monk” has to travel. It has to rehearse and rethink, but it must – like all good art – travel downhill and all island around. I am a writer who has made enough enemies owing to this blog space alone, but I choose to encourage “Twenty First Century Monk” with an entry of carefully chosen words, as I see in Sri Theater a positive and progressive approach to drama and the culture of moulding an “inclusive” theater team. In other words, what begins with this Premier might be an initiative which, if properly taken and groomed, can very well change the trajectory of Lanka’s English theater: a short-sighted, unenlightened, cluster of mimics of the West who can surely benefit from a simple-minded Monk.              

 

 

වරදෙහි පූර්ව-විනිශ්චය අවස්ථාව: සාක්ෂි ගොනු කිරීම සහ නිවැරදිකරු සෙවීමේ පහසු ක්‍රම.

නිලධාරිවාදය සහ රාජ්‍ය අනුදැනුම යටතේ සිදුවන ප්‍රචන්ඩත්වය උතුරු-දකුණු, බස්නාහිර-සබරගමු භේදයකින් තොරව, ඉතාම සරල හෝ අවිධිමත් හෝ නාට්‍ය පිටපත් වලට මුවා වී, අහංකාර ලෙස හා ම්ලේච්ඡ ලෙස අප ඉදිරියේ “පුවත්” මවමින් සිටී. රාජ්‍ය ප්‍රචන්ඩත්වය දෛනික ජීවිතයේ අංගයක් ලෙසට ඒත්තු ගන්වා, ස‍ංවේදන හා ශ්‍රවන ඉන්ද්‍රීය අකර්මණ්‍ය කර, පවතින නීති-රීති රාමූන් ඇස් පනා පිටම පාලක ස්ථරයේ (සහ එහි ගැති උප-ස්ථරයේ) පැවැත්ම හා ස්ථාවරත්වය වෙනුවෙන් ම ඉතා බිහිසුනු ලෙස අංග ඡේදනය කරන අඩවියක අපි හසුවී සිටිමු.

එවන් පසුබිමක, සබරගමු විශ්ව විද්‍යාලයේ පලමු වසර ඉගෙනුම ලබන මුහමාලෙයි සිට පැමිණි ශිෂ්‍යයෙක් තමාටම ගසාගෙන ඔලුවත් පලාගෙන අත් පා ද බැදගෙන ඇති බවට පොලිසිය මාධ්‍ය වෙත කරුණු අනාවරනය කර ඇත. ඒ තමාට “ගෙද‍ර ගොස්” යාපන විශ්ව විද්‍යාලයට ඇතුලු වී ඉගෙන ගැනීම‍‍ට අවශ්‍ය වටපිටාව නිර්මාණය කරගන්නට බව මේ සිසුවාගේ “පාපෝච්ඡාරනය” තුලින් ත්‍රස්ත විමර්ශන නිලධාරීන් “අනාවරණය කරගෙන” ඇත. වාර්තාවන අන්දමට ජාතීන් අතර “අන්‍යෝන්‍ය සංහිදියාවට බාධාවක්” වන යටකී හැසිරීම මත එම ශිෂ්‍යයා තවදුරටත් ත්‍රස්ත විමර්ශන අංශය භාරයේ තබා ගැනෙන වටපිටාවක්ද නිර්මාණය කෙරිනි. මෙම සබරගමු සිද්ධිය හා සමාන්තරව තෙවන වසර තවත් ශිෂ්‍යයෙකුගේ අත්අඩංගුවට ගැනීමක් ද සිදුවන අතර, මේ සමස්ත ක්‍රියාදාමය හරහා අපි අත්දකින්නේ ඉතාම බිහිසුනු ලෙස විශ්ව විද්‍යාල තුලට අද රාජ්‍ය මර්ධනය සහ එහි ඇම්බැට්ට ස්වරූපයන් පැමිණ පැල පදියම් වී ඇති ආකාරයයි.

සබරගමු ශිෂ්‍යයාගේ සිද්ධිය අපට බලකර සිටින්නේ ඉතාම ප්‍රබුද්ධ සිතින් කරුනු කාරනා මෙනෙහි කරන ලෙසයි. ඉතාම නිර්ලජ්ජී ලෙස බලය අහංකාර ලෙස යොදා ගනිමින් කෙරෙන බොහෝ පැහැරගැනීම්, රදවාගැනීම් හරහා පාපිෂ්ඨ ලෙස උච්ඡාරනය කෙරෙනා “පාපොච්ඡාරනයන්” හා මෙකී ශිෂ්‍යයා කරායැයි කියන “පාපෝච්ඡාරනයේ” මතුපිට සමාන කම් බොහෝය. මූලික වශයෙන්, පහරදීම සිදුවන අවස්ථාවේ මතුවන තත්වයට පරස්පර වන විදිහේ කරුනු “පාපෝච්ඡාරනයේ” දී මතුවීම දැක්විය හැක. පහරදීමකට ලක්වුනායැයි කියන්නා “පාපෝච්ඡාරනයේ” දී මතුවන කරුනු මත තමා විසින් තමාටම තුවාල සිදුකර ගත්තෙකි. තවද, තමා තමාටම අතවර කරගැනීමට යොදාගත් පොලු, අත් පා බැදි වයර් කෑලි ආදියද කිසිදු සැකයකින් හෝ වැඩිදුර පරීක්ෂණවලින් තොරව සනාථ වේ. කරුනු කාරනා ඉතාමත් ලෙහෙසියෙන් සහ පහසුවෙන් “සනාථ” වන විට “අත්අඩංගුවට” ගැනීමේ ක්‍රමවේද හෝ ක්‍රියා පිලිවෙත් ගැන කිසිදු කරුනු ගැනීමක් කෙරෙන්නේ නැත. දැන් අත්අඩංගුවට ගෙන ඇති “පුනරුත්තාපිත” තෙවන වසර නිරෝජන් සිසුවා “ත්‍රස්ත ක්‍රියා” වලට සම්බන්ධ විය හැකි බවට සාක්ෂි ලැබී ඇති බවද සමාජගත කොට ඇත.

මෙහි සදහන් ශිෂ්‍ය මර්ධනය කේන්ද්‍ර කරගත් සබරගමු වි.වි සිසු උද්ඝෝෂණ අවස්ථාවක්.

2012 දී විසාකේස චන්ද්‍රසේකරම් විසින් රචිත “ටයිගර්ස් ඩෝන්ට් කන්ෆෙස්” නවකතාවේ එක් ධාරාවක් වෙන්වන්නේ කොළඹ විශ්ව විද්‍යාලයේ අවසන් වසරේ ඉගෙනුම ලබමින් සිටියදී ලංකා පොලිසියේ “ත්‍රස්ත විමර්ශන කණ්ඩායම” (Terrorist Investigation Team) විසින් අත්අඩංගුවට ගනු ලබන ශිෂ්‍යයෙකුගේ වෘතාන්තය විමසීමටය. ඉතාමත් “ප්‍රබල” සාක්ෂි මත, පාපෝච්ඡාරන ද සහිතව කියවෙන්නේ අත්අඩංගුවට ගත් තරුණයා විමුක්ති කොටි සාමාජිකයෙක් බවයි. ලංකාවේ පොලිසියේ මුග්ධභාවයේ සහ එහි අහංකාරී උද්දච්ඡකමේ — විශේෂයෙන්ම “සාක්ෂි” සැකසීම හා පවතින නෛතික ව්‍යුහයේ හිල් අතරින් තමන්ගේ වාසියට “සාක්ෂි” රිංගවීම ‍සහ ඒවා හැසිරවීම ගැන — පරාවර්තනයක් ලෙස චන්ද්‍රසේකරම්ගේ වියමන ප්‍රබල භූමිකාවක් නිරූපනය කරයි. කතාව දිගහැරීමේ දී “ත්‍රස්ත විමර්ශන කණ්ඩායම” විසින් අධිකරනය ඉදිරියේ ගෙනහැර දක්වන සාක්ෂිවල වංචනිකභාවය මෙන්ම, එම සාක්ෂි “සැකසීමේ” ක්‍රියාවලිය පසුපස තිබෙන දූෂිත, අධිකාරීමය බලපුලුවන්කාරකම පිලිබදවද සටහනක් තැබේ. කෙටියෙන් කිවහොත්, තම “දේශපාලන න්‍යාය පත්‍රය‍ට” ගැලපෙන “ත්‍රස්තවාදියෙකු” බිහිකරගැනීම සදහා “ත්‍රස්ත විමර්ශන කණ්ඩායම” තම ක්ෂේත්‍රයෙන් ලද විශේෂ ප්‍රාගුන්‍ය‍ය නීතිරාමුවක් තුල ඉහලින්ම මෙහෙය වන ආකාරය චන්ද්‍රසේකරම් ගෙනහැර දක්වයි.

humanrights.asia හි ලංකාව සම්බන්ධයෙන් පලවූ ප්‍රකාශන‍යක්

1993-94 කාලය පදනම් කරගෙන ගෙතෙන චන්ද්‍රසේකරම්ගේ වියමනෙහි සහ අප අද අත්දකින “කුඩු ජාවාරම් කරුවන්” මහමගදී “විශේෂ බලකා ප්‍රහාරවලට” ලක්වී අවනීතියෙන් මියයාම, ඇතැම් චීවරධාරීන් තමා විසින්ම තමාට හානි කරගැනීම හා සබරගමු සරසවි සිසුන් “තමාටම පහර දී ගැනීම” අතර ප්‍රකම්පනයන් දැකීමට විශේෂ යන්ත්‍ර සූත්‍ර අවශ්‍යම නොවේ. මේ බොහෝ සිදුවීම් “පරීක්ෂන මට්ටමේ” තිබෙන හෙයින් අප නොදන්න පරීක්ෂන ප්‍රතිඵල පුරෝකථනය කිරීමද සිදුනොකල යුතු නමුත්, මෙහි අප නොදන්නම පරීක්ෂන-නිගමන ගතිකයක් ද නොමැත්තේමය. මෙම ලියමන ලියවෙන්නේද එම නිසාම විය හැක. සගවා ඇති අවි පෙන්වීමට ගොස් මිය යන “සැකකරුවන්” (චන්ද්‍රසේකරම්ගේ වියමනෙහි එන තරුණයා ද, සබරගමු සිසුන් ද “සැකකරුවන්”ම පමණි) පිලිබද අපට ඇත්තේ කෙබදු ඉතිහාසයක් ද? 1988-89 වකවානුවේ සිදුවන අසං‍ඛේය මනුෂ්‍ය ඝාතනවලින් පමණක් පටන් ගතහොත් රාජ්‍ය අනුග්‍රහය ලද “සැකකරුවන්” (හා එසේ නොවනවුන් ද) වාෂ්ප කරවීමේ ව්‍යාපාරයට අද වසර විසිපහකට අධික ඉතිහාසයකි. 1989 තීරණා‍ත්මක ලක්ෂ්‍යයකදී එවකට ජනතා විමුක්ති පෙරමුණේ නායක රෝහණ විජේවීර ද “අවි පෙන්වන” සන්දර්භයකදී අවනීතිමය ඝාතනයකට ලක්කෙරිනි. “දේශපාලන විරුද්ධාභාසයන්” නැසීමේ ක්‍රමවේදයක් ලෙස “නීතිය කැලඹුනු” වපසරියක කෙරෙන අවනීතිමය ඝාතන ඉතා ප්‍රබල තත්කාලීන සංසිද්ධියකි. “විජේවීර” වේවා, “කුඩුකාරයා” වේවා, “ත්‍රස්තවාදියා” වේවා, මෙහිදී “ධාරාව කෙලෙසූ” බවට ධාරාවේ “ආරක්ෂකයින්” ලෙස පෙනී සිටින රාජ්‍යය හෝ එහී කුලීකරුවන් විසින් හංවඩුකරණය කෙරුනු — නීතිය ඉදිරියට ගෙනාවද, නොගෙනාවද එහි වෙනසක් නැති බවට ජරාජීර්න කෙරුනු — “රාජ්‍යයේ විරුද්ධවාදීන් (එබැවින් ම රටේ ද, ඔබේද, මගේ ද, සැමගේද විරුද්ධවාදීන්)” මර්ධනය පිලිලයක් ඉවත්කෙරෙන ව්‍යායාමයක් දක්වා සාමාන්‍යකරනය කර දක්වා ඇත.      

2014.08.13 “සිලෝන් ටු‍ඩේ” පුවත්පතද එහි සහෝදර “මව්බිම” පත්තරේද “කුඩු රජෙක්” යැයි අනාවරනය කරගත් මිනිසෙක් ගේ නිශ්චල හා චංචල දේපල ගැන විස්තර ද, ඔහුගේ වතු පිටි ගැන තොරතුරු ද හෙඩ්ලයින්ස් ලෙස දෙන්නේ ඒ මිනිසා “අවනීතියෙන්” උපයා ගත් ධනයෙහි දිග-පළල ගැන ඡායාරූප ද සමගිනි. මෙවැනි “හෙලිකිරීම්” තුලින් තම හිරි ඔතප් බිදෙයි යැයි සිතා එසේ නොකරන ඇතැම් දේශපාලක, ව්‍යාපාරික ඇතුලු ක්‍රමය තුල සිටිමින් එම ක්‍රමයම තම ප්‍රාන ඇපයට ගත් ඇතැම් අය ගේ කුජීත ජීවන රටාවන් ගැන බැල්මක් හෝ නොහෙලේ. මන්ද යත් “වරදකරුවන්” නිර්මාණය කිරීමේ ද කලාවක් සහ දේශපාලනයක් පවතින හෙයිනි. නීතියෙන් ප්‍රකාශ කෙරෙන තෙක් “සැකකරුවෙක්” “වරදකරුවෙක්” නොවන බව අපට පොඩි කාලේ සිට උගන්වා ඇති මුත් “වරදකරු ද”, “සැකකරුද” අවනීතිමය සැකසුමක්ම වන අවස්ථාවක — ක්‍රමයේ පැවැත්ම පිණිස ක්‍රමයේම අත්තනෝමතික විචල්‍යයන් දෙකක් වන විටක — අත්අඩංගුවට ගැනීම, සාක්ෂි ගැනීම, කටඋත්තර සටහන් කරගැනීම, නඩුවක් ඉදිරියට ගෙනයෑම (හෝ එය කල් යැවීම) ආදී කිසිදු අවස්ථාවක් “වාස්තවික” හෝ “සාධාරණ” ලෙස සැලකිය නොහැකි බව අද ඕනෑම ශිෂ්‍යත්ව පන්ති ලමයෙක් පවා දන්න දෙයකි. විශ්ව විද්‍යාල සිසුන් ප්‍රායෝගිකව අත්දක්නා දෙයකි.    

මෙහිදී නිතැතින් මතක් වන අවස්ථාවකි, ෆ්‍රාන්ස් කෆ්කාගේ “ද ට්‍රයල්” සහ “ද කාස්ට්ල්”. ඉතාමත් සංයමයෙන් කෆ්කා විමසන පොදු සමාජයීය තත්වය නම් පූර්ව-විනිශ්චයන් සමුදායකින් සැදි විශ්වයක් තුල (අපි එය‍ට සමාජය හෝ ක්‍රමය හෝ කියමු) පුද්ගල ඉරණම යනු කුමක්ද යන්නයි. ගැලවීමක් හෝ ඔටොනොමියක් හෝ කියා දෙයක් නැති, තමාට හැසිරවීමට හෝ තේරුම් ගැනීමට හෝ නොහැකි මහා ආඛ්‍යානයකින් හා භාවිතයකින් මිරිකී, බේරී එන ජීවිතයකි කෆ්කා නිරූපනය කරන්නට යෙදෙන්නේ. එම යාන්ත්‍රණය තුල අධිකාරී බල කේන්ද්‍රනයක් තිබෙන අතර එහි නීර්ණයන්ට යටත්ව “පුද්ගල දෛවය” තීරණය කෙරේ. එම තීරණයන්ගේ සාධාරණීනරණය “නීතිය” යන වදනෙන් අරුත් ගැන්වේ. කෆ්කාගේ විශ්වයේ දී නීතිය යනු බලයේ සාධාරණීකරණයක් පමණක් වන අතර එය ඉදිරියේ කිසිවෙකු “සමානයෙකු” හෝ “අසමානයෙකු” යන කාව්‍යමය වැකි අදාල වන්නේද නැත. එම නිසාම “වැරදිකරු” හා “නිවැරදිකරු” ද පූර්වයෙන් නිගමනය කෙරී ඇත. “වැරදිකරු ද නිවැරදිකරු ද” යැයි ඇසීම ද හාස්‍යජනක නාට්‍යමය අවස්ථාවක්ම පමණක් වනු ඇත. එය ද පූර්වයෙන් නිගමනය කෙරී ඇති නිසාය.

වාස් ගුණවර්ධන වැනි “බලයෙන් ක්ෂය කෙරුනු” අතීත “රාජ්‍ය විරුවන්” හට ඇතැම් විපරිත මාධ්‍ය කල සැලකීම තුලින් “නීතිය සහ අවනීතිය” ගැන ලංකාවේ පවතින විෂම ගතිකය මෙන්ම මාධ්‍ය භාවිතය තුල මෙම ගතිකය අවිචාරශීලීව අපයෝජනය වන අයුරු ද මැනවින් සාක්ෂාත් වේ. “සිලෝන් ටු‍ඩේ” ‍ට කුඩු රජාගේ වත්කම් ප්‍රශ්ණයක් වූ දා “ලංකාදීප” හා “අද” පත්තරවල හෙඩ්ලයින් එක වූයේ බියුටි පාර්ලර් එකකදී වැරදි එන්නතක් ශරීරගතවීමෙන් මිය ගිය “කාන්තා දොස්තරවරියක්” ගැන පුවතයි. මෙම සියලු පුවත්පත් වලට හසු නොවූ, දවසේ ද්විතීක පුවතක් වූයේ සබරගමු ශිෂ්‍යයා ත්‍රස්ත විමර්ශන අත්අඩංගුවේ තවදුරටත් රදවන බවට වූ පුවතයි.

ෆ්‍රාන්ස් කෆ්කා (මා දන්න තරමින්) ලංකාවේ කිසිම පාඨමාලාවක, විෂය මාලා කිසිවක ඉගැන්වෙන ලේඛකයෙක් නොවේ. ඇතැම් නීති සිසුන් පවා සිතන්නේ “නීතියේ කන්‍යාවියගේ” ඇස් අන්ධ වීම සමබරතාවය හෝ සමානාත්මතාවය ගැන කෙරෙන ඇගයුමක් ම බවයි.

Of a Mortician Singing In the Bath; and of Sri Lankan School Children Debating Under Studio Lights

In Woody Allen’s “To Rome With Love” (2012), in a memorable passage of play, Jerry (played by Woody Allen) overhears Giancarlo (Fabio Armiliato) singing tenor in his shower. By profession, Giancarlo is a mortician and he insists that he sings for himself — for pleasure, in the bath. Jerry, who has behind him a career of showbiz, is moved by the vibrations of Giancarlo’s voice and sees in it a business potential: a prospect which he, later, tables at the family’s dinner table. Giancarlo is the father of Jerry’s prospective son-in-law (newly introduced), Michelangelo. Giancarlo refuses to acquiesce, as much as Jerry (in that annoying Woody Allen  nagging style) presses on the issue. Michelangelo, introduced as a young man with strong Communist sympathies, backs up his father’s claims. Jerry is forced to shut the topic, which he does with great reluctance.

Giancarlo, later on, becomes a singer / public performer. We see him singing on the open stage, his tenor vocals holding packed houses in enrapture; but, the condition under which Giancarlo sings is that there, on stage, should be a showering cubicle and a running shower under which he stands and sings. Giancarlo is naked and the showering booth is out of place on a stage facing a crowd of people who have paid to watch the show. But, nor will there be any singing minus the bathing contraption, as that is what gives Giancarlo his inspiration.

Jerry meets Giancarlo for the first time, near the latter’s funeral parlour

The Giancarlo-Jerry subplot is complemented by the thread of Leopoldo (Roberto Benigni), who is transformed from a boring, ordinary public office worker to a kind of a star by popular media. For no obvious reason — as it so happens in the media — Leopoldo is fished out of the humdrum of a personality-less, mechanical routine and “propped up” as a star of sorts. His dinner habits, his view of the weather and his getting in and out of vehicles and events cause headlines and news. Leopoldo himself does not know the cause for his stardom, but gradually comes to accept it. At one point, his “fifteen minutes of fame” is over and the media moves out of him, in search of a new and fresh “news-making” source. Leopoldo is found in an abyss of isolation and state of non-recognition: being at a loss in trying to reconcile with his own diminutive state and ordinariness.

“To Rome with Love” is not Woody Allen’s greatest movie; and is, by itself, a venture in cinema that is too self-conscious for us not to notice it. His plot situations are now cliches within his own dramatic tradition, while the exotic European cultural sites across which he moves like a cinematic gypsy is fraught and contrived. Woody Allen has “done” Rome, Spain, Rome and in “Midnight In Paris” (2013), he arrives in Paris. This is not to write off Woody Allen’s craft which has its own merits and mainstays; which, as a corpus, has established its own trajectory with a neat infusion of diverse dramatic motifs and devices from a range of traditions from the Classical Greek Old Comedy to contemporary trends in Absurdism. But, nonetheless, Woody Allen is now pretty much a “vintage author” whose work can safely reflect the dialectics of capitalist consumerism: where, his own plotline is a critique of the overwhelming consumerist mesh that cuts across and swallows our private and public spaces, while the movie (the vehicle of his criticism) is already a project of the very market that he critiques.

Leopoldo fleeing from the swarm of media flies who follows him wherever he may go

Leopoldo and Giancarlo is important to us because the ugly marriage between popular media and capitalism is more than ever on a honeymoon rampage, bending the ignorance and the insecurities of the masses into creating visual facades of types and species; but for their own business reasons. These visual hallucinations may come in the guise of “superstars”, “real stars” or in the form of “a hyper-meritorious society” drilled with bana-beats. Whatever form it may come in, it is imperative that we gauge where we, as individuals, should stand against this all-encompassing tide. How many Leopoldos do we meet among us? How many Giancarlos sing on stages with a make-shift shower-cubicle around them? The fundamental of capitalist consumerism is the ability to absorb anything and everything and moulding around them a profit-yielding mechanism. Within the consumerist machine “war” and “peace” are the most prized consumer items. It absorbs and returns to the market Che Guevara, the KGB, Osama Bin Laden, genital mutilation, exotic princesses of the Sahara and the JVP as marketable commodities.

In our recent experience, Sirasa Media was the first to copy paste (and the resolution, I believe, was dropped from the original “Britain’s Got Talent”, “American Idol” etc, in the pasting process) “reality show” culture into the mass brain-dead cavities of Lanka’s TV-viewing mass populace. This cue was picked up by other competing channels, and — as it happens in consumerism — a mass “duplication” (mass production) of “reality shows” in search of “stars” and (one night) “giants” spread like a virus. What began as a mania for the “crowning” of singing and dancing “stars” takes a dangerous shift when, in the aftermath of the military crushing of the LTTE, a state-owned TV station initiates a “Ranaviru Real Star”: a supposed talent contest for state-paid militants. This is a tangible example of how even warfare and militancy can be sanitized: as to how the profit-oriented machine of capitalism can, in the guise of “seeking the hidden singer behind the loaded gun”, can turn a profit on almost any “fashionable” seasonal item.

Ranaviru Real Star: the “reality show” of the hidden singers behind the service rifle

The bended knee and the hands raised towards teh stars

Today, we are in a situation where school debating and even school boxing have been “star-crossed” by crass media moguls such as Sirasa. The importance school students (with a lack of critical awareness and with an absence of critically-equipped teachers) are made to give these televised quasi-debates and quasi-boxing bouts is alarming; as much as they are symptomatic of an erosion of our values in education, in the face of capitalism. “To be on TV”, itself, is an achievement the student is now being pushed for; and in their ignorance theirs is an “achievement”: which, in reality, is a little concession in make belief which the capitalist can afford, in a bid for a higher profit for his business. The irony is, that school boys and girls tear their asses off and memorize arguments and speeches written on flimsy pieces of paper and role play debates under artificial lights in studio atmospheres. University students from under-provided universities are seen as showcasing talent in programmes such as “Kavitha”, run on huge chunks of money, which can more meaningfully be used for higher education purposes. What happens to these “Kavitha” winners? How beneficial to their overall development as individuals are these reactionary roadshow “talent” contests? The very artifice of this activity reminds me of Giancarlo’s singing on stage, shrouded by a bathing booth, with a shower running.

As Woody Allen suggests, consumerism is often inescapable. That is reflected in Allen’s work itself, which skins the underbelly of consumerism, while the project itself is a consciously profit-yielding enterprise. Yet, our education and school culture should be a programme that suitably equips the student with the necessary ideological tools and critical incepts with which s/he can reflectively deal with the consumerist tide at hand: the tools that will make us understand who we are and enable us, in degrees, to cope with situations, and not be beheaded like a rat drawn by the false lure of a thin cube of roast coconut kernel placed in a trap.