I have always loved theatre, the capacity for it to entertain far surpassed the passive, dreary output of the television or the cinema hall . Making provision to attend as much quality productions as possible, (that sadly were few and far between in Colombo), it is with much enthusiasm that I looked forwards to the novelty of attending a forum theatre for the first time. This was "Elected" a production by Beyond Borders, a youth-led, youth-run volunteer organisation that has engaged in initiatives that promote sustainable change in social and developmental issues.
I do not wish here to make a review of the production or its performance, for frankly I'm not adroit at that. Even so I cannot help but say, the characters were portrayed in all seriousness befitting the circumstances and the quality was indiscernible from professional productions I have chanced to encounter. The storyline and script was well written barring few minor flaws but even they did not adversely affect the quality of the play. Indeed it was construed so that a very stimulated forum for the topic "Racism" would take place.
The storyline is thus,
An election is to be held to appoint the president of a student union in a university. The two candidates are Mohan, a tamil (minority) student who runs a clean and simple campaign, and Mihiri, a sinhalese (majority) female student who enlists the help of all around her by playing the racial card. This leads to confrontation and undemocratic activity which ultimately leads to a tragedy.
Building on this the forum theatre was conducted quite deftly by ?Yohan? with excellent audience participation and response, many even getting on to the stage to act out their version of the characters course. It was a welcome addition to the somewhat passive theatre that is normally encountered and managed to enlighten different viewpoints of the "Racism" topic under discussion.
Following are some of my thoughts in addition to the ones already fielded at the FT.
In relation to the play and the events at the university,
The dean should have stepped in at the first place, and taken precautions to negate and anticipate any future events when Mihiri in her campaign opening speech roused the audience using racial undertones . The senior faculty/management must recognise that racism and irregularities exist and must be prepared to invest time and effort to develop solutions rather than resort to adversarial responses as happened with the female professor(@megtegal) under whose purview was the actual election. That professor portrayed a spineless character and should ideally have been firm, whilst being equally reconciling to defuse the escalating racist bias and ensure democratic elections. But the way in which she naturally unfolded, the prof lost the trust and possibly the accompanying student-teacher relationship by her clumsiness in handling the complaints.
Secondly Mohan should have wised up pretty soon to the situation and made efforts to negate the impact of the social injustice working against him. He may have been affected by already internalised racism in himself that prompted him to devalue himself(in relation to the majority/Mihiri) but that can hardly be expected from a bright accomplished student of 2-3 years in the campus now running for student body president. This point was brought up again by a lady sitting next to me, and that was her reason for voting for Mihiri if she'd had the chance.
Thirdly as Prof. Ananda had a history of influencing elections even in the past a more diligent eye on his activities should have been kept by the election commissioned prof.
The other student union/body members could also have made a better show of support to ensure that democratic elections took place, but unfortunately they weren't even featured in the play. Self Realization and commitment to change by them from the current set of racial beliefs and attitudes might have made a big difference in the final outcome.
Racism albeit slightly, has been studied for its influence on health and found to have disastrous outcomes. The person under injustice is on constant stress. Think about it, how many times don you think about your race/religion during the course of a day? I wager that if you belong to a minority you are bound to think about it more frequently. The person under injustice will have increased incidence of depression, anxiety and anger. That is but a part of the emotional and physical toll that ensues from racial injustice.
"Silence is Consent"
The jocquer, posed an interesting question close to the end of the play, "what will you do now this has happened." in a very antagonizing manner. As a thug he was directly preventing the choice of others to retaliate and wanted them to acquiescence with him, betraying their moral righteousness instead for thug protection. It would've been interesting to know the responses to that question had it been posed to the audience.
In reality all of us agree that racism is wrong, yet outrageously there is very little we do to decrease this prevalence and for that all of us are in blame,.
As physicians we claim to not practice overt racism, but though we are reluctant to admit it in ourselves and our peers, there are some aspects/influences that happen without awareness. It is important then to constantly keep a wary eye out for this.
I wish to thank all at Beyond Borders for organising and inviting us to this timely and thought provoking forum theatre, which has broadened our viewpoint and in truth created a certain selfawareness over racism. Kudos to the actors, director and assisting staff for a powerful production. Hope you will continue along these traditions to meet headon such social issues and continue to create forum for discussion and citizen participation.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Invest in time...
What is the your most valuable resource in the world? Is it money, jewellery or any other material possession? To me, it's time. Time is the only thing that starts to dwindle away even as you start to think about it. Our life, (whatever religion you align yourself with) is numbered and limited by it. Hence one must be very careful in dealing with time.
Spending time, is nothing but serious. Once gone, it cannot be dragged back. One does not at a later day, want to look back and say "Oh, if only I had spent that time better...". Hence I chose to live time, at it's best. Eke the maximum out of the day. And in that time do things that would guarantee my happiness now or in the future. I try hard not to dwell on the past, nor to dream about the future, spending the present is what is most important.
Think about it a bit... and invest in your time.
I hope this was not a waste of time for you. :-)
Spending time, is nothing but serious. Once gone, it cannot be dragged back. One does not at a later day, want to look back and say "Oh, if only I had spent that time better...". Hence I chose to live time, at it's best. Eke the maximum out of the day. And in that time do things that would guarantee my happiness now or in the future. I try hard not to dwell on the past, nor to dream about the future, spending the present is what is most important.
Think about it a bit... and invest in your time.
I hope this was not a waste of time for you. :-)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
It's a cause for celebration
Is it really..? In such a flamboyant manner?
I was wondering and thinking about this for the whole of today. Even now at 1245 am the sound of two separate 'bajjawwa', drift in through the window.
I'm not unpatriotic. No. I've done things for my country in my own small manner, which i'm mighty proud of. But i was really trying to understand why people have been driven overboard with joy at the killing of prabha n co. I mean it's good and just that they should be killed, they deserve more pain and suffering for the hurt they have caused sri lanka and it's people. But to celebrate by processions in the street, crackers that scare the shit of you, joyous singing far into the night..
Was it a kind of sadism, i wondered.
But then it occured to me that what we are celebrating here is not a killing but a liberation. A liberation of our minds from the overhanging cloud of fear. A cloud that sometimes we did not even know was existing, but nevertheless darkened the visage of every sri lankan without cast or creed. It was this relief from the oppression that we are/were celebrating.
Freedom from terrorism that has plagued us and has been almost able to crumple our beautiful country, that's the true cause for celebration. Peace was a rare commodity in sri lanka for a long long time.
I don't plan to go and join in the frolicking, but there's no denying that my heart has also taken a lift.
I was wondering and thinking about this for the whole of today. Even now at 1245 am the sound of two separate 'bajjawwa', drift in through the window.
I'm not unpatriotic. No. I've done things for my country in my own small manner, which i'm mighty proud of. But i was really trying to understand why people have been driven overboard with joy at the killing of prabha n co. I mean it's good and just that they should be killed, they deserve more pain and suffering for the hurt they have caused sri lanka and it's people. But to celebrate by processions in the street, crackers that scare the shit of you, joyous singing far into the night..
Was it a kind of sadism, i wondered.
But then it occured to me that what we are celebrating here is not a killing but a liberation. A liberation of our minds from the overhanging cloud of fear. A cloud that sometimes we did not even know was existing, but nevertheless darkened the visage of every sri lankan without cast or creed. It was this relief from the oppression that we are/were celebrating.
Freedom from terrorism that has plagued us and has been almost able to crumple our beautiful country, that's the true cause for celebration. Peace was a rare commodity in sri lanka for a long long time.
I don't plan to go and join in the frolicking, but there's no denying that my heart has also taken a lift.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Letter
Darling,
I love you. I love you more than I can say. I love your smile. I love your smell, but even more i love you bringing me tea in the morning, as we step out on a sunday and listen to the birds celebrate the joy of light, life and love. I love our walks, our talks down the bund in the evening, leaning against one another. So much, so many things, you are more to me than my love, you are my strength. You are the stiffness of my spine. You are my comfort, also my refuge. You make a man of me and let me be a boy.
I got your last letter on January 12. The posts are a little delayed after we moved on to this new camp. Yes, I was also thinking about you when new year dawned. It is my only prayer that we will be able to celebrate the sinhala new year together, hopefully this war will be over by then. But really the hardest part is now my love, when the enemy is hard to target as they are hiding cowardly behind innocent civilians. But our leadership is strong and our morale is high. Do not worry about my safety dear, regardless of what you hear in the news, I am OK and will stay that way. You know that I am an electrician. I am surrounded by several divisions of infantry whose only job is to keep us safe. So love, come April I will board that bus on my way back to you.
As for the news here: We continue to occupy into the town, rescuing more and more people as we go. The rains have stopped at last and we'll see little or no more until end June, the civilians tell me. Its getting terribly hot & dry. Did I tell I can now speak tolerably well in Tamil! I promise to teach you when I'm back. Oftentimes after talking with there people i think that only he we knew each others languages and talked a little bit more, so much of this could have been avoided. At least now they've started to teach it at school, which is very good.
About the war: Here at camp we see first hand the effects of it, rescued civilians passing through on their way to resettlement camps. Their faces filled with new hope and happiness. Those are the moments that make our whole effort worthwhile. They are out of all danger now. Really darling, I'll not lie, apart from the straw artillery shell and the very rare mine on the roads it's not at all risky here. I might be more at harm in the village from your brother. Ha ha.
Last week our division discovered another hastily covered mass grave of the enemy, where some kids found dead were even smaller than younger brother. This is the brutality of the enemy who force there innocents to the forefront of the field. We dug up the bodies and buried them proper in graves, however unmarked- somebody's son or daughter, somebody's brother or sister.
Yesterday I also helped at the security and clearing station up front for the endless stream of civilians that managed to evade enemies. I can only imagine the agony and suffering at the hands of the enemy while being forcibly held as human shields in the no fire zone. The officers there are overburdened and my Tamil came in pretty handy. I'm free tomorrow and I expect I'll go again to help them out- beats staying in camp idling and playing cards.
Well darling it's getting late and I'll end here. I love you and miss you. I'll post you from camp tomorrow. Good night and sweet dreams.
---------------------------------------------------------
Dear Mrs. Weeramuni,
You don't know me, I'm just another soldier like Saman was. But for some reason I feel the need to tll you what happened. I've waited a bit to do this, I expect Saman is home with you by now, and the Army has done their duty in this regard.
I found this letter on the ground after we picked up Saman, and held on to it. I'm sorry. I don't know why it always makes me cry. Oh hell, I said I was going to tell you what happened so here goes,
We were at the clearing station for the refugees coming from the front, sorting and directing them to the resettlement camps. We were severely overburdened and welcomed the assistance from other soldiers like Saman who helped us out. Saman was stationed no less than 10 metres from me. Suddenly there was shots fired, with a loud report and we instictively dropped to the ground. With a ball of flame, and explosion went off almost immediately.
When we got to our feet again, well, nothing, just Saman lying there on the road, among the other fallen. When we got to him he was already gone, by those bullets. There was nothing we could do but take him back to camp. As you know the others escaped with minor injuries, it was a minor explosion afterall.
It's not much if a story I guess, no big battle or anything for the papers. I still don't know why I am doing this. But, well Saman was out there volunteering and helping some people, and there were those that sadistically wanted to hurt them. I guess that is why I am writing this. Saman, was there to help protect people from those who hurt them. And so, I guess that makes Saman a hero, not the victim. I'm sure you miss him; but he was a good man and please take some comfort in knowing what he really was.
I love you. I love you more than I can say. I love your smile. I love your smell, but even more i love you bringing me tea in the morning, as we step out on a sunday and listen to the birds celebrate the joy of light, life and love. I love our walks, our talks down the bund in the evening, leaning against one another. So much, so many things, you are more to me than my love, you are my strength. You are the stiffness of my spine. You are my comfort, also my refuge. You make a man of me and let me be a boy.
I got your last letter on January 12. The posts are a little delayed after we moved on to this new camp. Yes, I was also thinking about you when new year dawned. It is my only prayer that we will be able to celebrate the sinhala new year together, hopefully this war will be over by then. But really the hardest part is now my love, when the enemy is hard to target as they are hiding cowardly behind innocent civilians. But our leadership is strong and our morale is high. Do not worry about my safety dear, regardless of what you hear in the news, I am OK and will stay that way. You know that I am an electrician. I am surrounded by several divisions of infantry whose only job is to keep us safe. So love, come April I will board that bus on my way back to you.
As for the news here: We continue to occupy into the town, rescuing more and more people as we go. The rains have stopped at last and we'll see little or no more until end June, the civilians tell me. Its getting terribly hot & dry. Did I tell I can now speak tolerably well in Tamil! I promise to teach you when I'm back. Oftentimes after talking with there people i think that only he we knew each others languages and talked a little bit more, so much of this could have been avoided. At least now they've started to teach it at school, which is very good.
About the war: Here at camp we see first hand the effects of it, rescued civilians passing through on their way to resettlement camps. Their faces filled with new hope and happiness. Those are the moments that make our whole effort worthwhile. They are out of all danger now. Really darling, I'll not lie, apart from the straw artillery shell and the very rare mine on the roads it's not at all risky here. I might be more at harm in the village from your brother. Ha ha.
Last week our division discovered another hastily covered mass grave of the enemy, where some kids found dead were even smaller than younger brother. This is the brutality of the enemy who force there innocents to the forefront of the field. We dug up the bodies and buried them proper in graves, however unmarked- somebody's son or daughter, somebody's brother or sister.
Yesterday I also helped at the security and clearing station up front for the endless stream of civilians that managed to evade enemies. I can only imagine the agony and suffering at the hands of the enemy while being forcibly held as human shields in the no fire zone. The officers there are overburdened and my Tamil came in pretty handy. I'm free tomorrow and I expect I'll go again to help them out- beats staying in camp idling and playing cards.
Well darling it's getting late and I'll end here. I love you and miss you. I'll post you from camp tomorrow. Good night and sweet dreams.
---------------------------------------------------------
Dear Mrs. Weeramuni,
You don't know me, I'm just another soldier like Saman was. But for some reason I feel the need to tll you what happened. I've waited a bit to do this, I expect Saman is home with you by now, and the Army has done their duty in this regard.
I found this letter on the ground after we picked up Saman, and held on to it. I'm sorry. I don't know why it always makes me cry. Oh hell, I said I was going to tell you what happened so here goes,
We were at the clearing station for the refugees coming from the front, sorting and directing them to the resettlement camps. We were severely overburdened and welcomed the assistance from other soldiers like Saman who helped us out. Saman was stationed no less than 10 metres from me. Suddenly there was shots fired, with a loud report and we instictively dropped to the ground. With a ball of flame, and explosion went off almost immediately.
When we got to our feet again, well, nothing, just Saman lying there on the road, among the other fallen. When we got to him he was already gone, by those bullets. There was nothing we could do but take him back to camp. As you know the others escaped with minor injuries, it was a minor explosion afterall.
It's not much if a story I guess, no big battle or anything for the papers. I still don't know why I am doing this. But, well Saman was out there volunteering and helping some people, and there were those that sadistically wanted to hurt them. I guess that is why I am writing this. Saman, was there to help protect people from those who hurt them. And so, I guess that makes Saman a hero, not the victim. I'm sure you miss him; but he was a good man and please take some comfort in knowing what he really was.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
It starts dripping...
Drip.. drip.. drip.. drip..
Pooling..
Gathering together..
Preparing..
For a new journey..
Down.. Continuing..
Breathing life back in..
Assisting..
Overflowing..
Heralding.
Drip.. drip.. drip.. drip..
It has no beginning..
There might be no end..
If it's allowed.. to flow..
With it's will.
Drip.. drip.. drip.. drip..
Pooling..
Gathering together..
Preparing..
For a new journey..
Down.. Continuing..
Breathing life back in..
Assisting..
Overflowing..
Heralding.
Drip.. drip.. drip.. drip..
It has no beginning..
There might be no end..
If it's allowed.. to flow..
With it's will.
Drip.. drip.. drip.. drip..
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