Victor's 'Sa' - still refreshing

As Victor Ratnayake begins to sing, the packed Elphinstone Theatre bursts into applause. 

For three hours Victor kept us spellbound just as he did 27 years ago, on July 20, 1973 at the Lumbini Theatre inaugurating the 'Sa' musical presentation. Having enjoyed his performance that day, it was with mixed feelings that I walked into the Elphinstone. The man is older by 27 years. Will he have the stamina to go through the three hour performance all by himself, as he did then? Having stopped performing 'Sa' nine years ago (after a record thousand performances all over the island including the North and East where the response was marvellous), how would he fare? 

These were my concerns. They disappeared as soon as Victor began singing.

Victor's voice still has that golden touch. He hasn't aged except that his long hair gives him a mature look. He is still the same disciplined musician. 

He doesn't believe in unnecessary trimmings-there are no youthful dancers accompanying him. He depends solely on his voice, as he did then. What a satisfying performance it was. An abject lesson to all those who resort to numerous gimmicks in the name of music. 

It was a fine gesture on the part of Rohana Weerasinghe, Edward Jayakody, Lakshman Wijesekera, Ananda Perera and Niranjala Sarojini to join in the chorus as they did at the inaugural show. Then they were hardly known. Today they are big names in the music scene. 

Yet they were there for the memorable occasion. Victor paid tribute to his fellow artistes who had helped to make 'Sa' the grand success it has been over the years. And to all those who had appreciated his music over the years. He called the show 'Sahurdabinandana'.

Victor proved how good songs stay for ever. The lyrics are meaningful. The melodies are beautiful. The singing is full of depth. 'Devuram Vehere', for instance, creates a tremendous sense of devotion in the listener due to a fine combination of these factors. 

Super mix

Victor confessed that he had never learnt Indian classical music in the traditional way from an Indian institute of music. After learning the basics from 'guru' Cyril Perera he joined the Heywood School of Fine Arts. Then he started composing using the Indian 'ragas'. To illustrate his effort, he sang just one song, 'Hopalu vanaye' which the crowds loved. And paying tribute to John de Silva, he sang a 'nurti' song - 'Esa Preethikarana' - from the play, 'Manabharana' originally sung by one 'Bandaiya'. 

Victor showed his versatility by presenting 'Andura Bindinnnata' on a faster beat. 

A song is born

And when I read the words and came to the second line, I realised how the words fitted in beautifully to the eternal lullaby, 'Doi Doi Doi Doiya Putha'. 

His story about how he sang a Karunaratne Abeysekera number without knowing who the writer was, was equally interesting. "P.L.A. Somapala wanted me to sing a song for a film he was directing music in. I agreed. He gave me the words and I sang 'Pembara Madhu' - a song which became a hit overnight. I never bothered to find out whose words they were but I liked the words very much. When I came to know it was Karunaratne Abeysekera's, I realised I had broken a pledge. I had vowed never to sing his compositions. But I was happy I did for I would have repented had I heard someone else singing it." 

He paid tribute to another lyricist, Bandara K. Wijetunga who also left us at an early age. 

The recent presentation marked another milestone in 'Sa'. A VCD of the programme was launched along with a compact disc (CD) and an audio cassette. Ideal for anyone's collection or as a gift, particularly to overseas friends.

Keeping the Indian-ness

By Alfreda de Silva 

Nandy himself says of it: "I have attempted this somewhat heretic, breakaway selection." What is notable about this is that in doing so he has retained the Indian sensibility, its imagery, customs, traditions, foods, festivals, love, marriage, birth and death, joy and grief. 

It moves, tells stories, weaves colourful patterns, warms the heart or rips it apart. It has taken a different path from the early musical romanticism of Sarojini Naidu and the gentle, philosophical rhythmic chants of Tagore and walked audaciously into today. But it is a today that reveres its beginnings, its rites and rituals, its religions and languages. 

When, after Independence, English went out of fashion in India, as it did in this country, Indian poets travelled back to their roots. They discovered the beauty and music of their own languages, which began to fashion their thinking. And what emerged was a felicitous blending of that knowledge with contemporary themes and ways of expressing them. 

There are well-known poets among the thirty represented here and those who have not been anthologised before; also those who have used the lexicon of poetry daringly. Unafraid to explore the deeper meanings of what Nandy calls "words at risk". 

A number of these poets, speak and write in one or more of their native languages, and in English, which some of them perfected in halls of learning in England or the USA. 

Nandy has given us the fresh, exhilarating work of Arun Kolatkar, one-time winner of the Commonwealth Poetry Awards for his memorable first book, Jejuri. 

Kolatkar was born in Kohlapur. He works as a graphic artist and designer in Bombay. His influence on the work of young Marathi poets has been considerable. 

In Jejuri, he draws lively, up-to-the-minute word-pictures, of a busful of travellers on a pilgrimage to Jejuri. Humour, colour and vivid imagery take us along with the pilgrims. Here is an excerpt from a section of it: The Priest

"The sun takes up the priest's head
and pats his cheek
familiarly like the village barber. The bit of betel nut
turning over and over on his tongue
is a mantra.
It works. The bus is no more a thought in his head,
It's now a dot in the distance..... 
.........The bus goes round in a circle, stops inside the bus station and stands
purring softly in front of the priest, 
A catgrin on its face
and a live, ready to eat pilgrim
held between its teeth." 

"Everytime I think of Indo-English poetry," states Nandy in his preface "..........I dream of bespectacled poets with alien accents mumbling apologetically before Sunday coffee-club audiences." 

But this anthology - Strangertime - gives us no such caricatures. It is a vibrant poetic compendium of the whole business of being an Indian. "Our roots lie here. This is our literature," he says. 

A.K. Ramanujan born in 1929, after his education in Mysore and Deccan College, Poona, left for Indiana University as a Fulbright scholar. He has been Professor of Dravidian Studies and Linguistics at the University of Chicago. Some of his books of poems have been published by Oxford University Press and he has some translations from classical Tamil poetry. His first book of poems The Striders, was a Poetry Society Recommendation. 

The ironies expressed in Ramanujan's Small-scale Reflections on a Great House also reveal the realities in these excerpts. 

"Sometimes I think that nothing that ever comes into this house goes out. Things come in every day
to lose themselves among other things
lost long ago among 
other things lost long ago.....
Nothing stays out: daughters
get married to short lived idiots; sons who run away come back
in grandchildren who recite Sanskrit
to approving old men, or bring
betel nuts for visiting uncles
who keep them gaping with
anecdotes of unseen fathers,
or to bring Ganges water
in a copper pot for the last of the dying
ancestors' rattle in the throat..........." 

Mrinalini Sarabhai, one of India's most distinguished classical dancers, whose first book was Captive Soil, a poetic play about the Independence struggle, interprets the songs of Shiva as related to Bharat Natyam in Looking for the Beloved. Her famous school for the performing arts, Darpana, is in Ahmedabad. 

These lines are from her poem Ananda. 

"I knelt at his feet
His hand lifted in the Abhaya Mudra,
his eyes looked into mine.
Compassionate. Loving. Distant.
From his feet I scraped
the dust. Mutti, Vibhuti.
I touched it to my forehead 
.....The pilgrims passed me
Climbing, climbing. 
Ananda, Ananda, Ananda." 

Pritish Nandy was born in Calcutta in 1947. Poet, photographer and graphic artist, he is the author of over thirty books of poetry, photography and translations. His poems have been filmed and set to music and EMI has brought out a long-playing record of his poems. 

He has received the Padma Shri and several national awards and distinctions for his creative work. 

These lines are from Nandy's The Nowhere Man. 

"Goodbye is not always a great exit line. There
are simpler ways of saying you are wrong. The
sign on the window says you are lonely. The void
in my heart says you are gone. There is still
Some place unknown where we can drift and watch
the springtime grow. In silent praise of the love
we as strangers today shall recognise and know." 

Painting paradoxical pictures

By Meg Williams

What this gifted artist endeavours to express is the very impossibility of expression that he perceives as characteristic of the postmodern condition.

There was an irony of sorts underlying my meeting last week with Jagath at The Gallery Cafe where his work is being beautifully exhibited.

It was ironic because the notion behind Jagath's abstract depictions of "Silent Figures" is the involuntary silence of the Sri Lankan people.

This thematic silence is, as Jagath's own stumbling with words demonstrated, by its own nature hard to explain.

He talks of "playing with space" and his striking paintings invariably involve bold primary colours and simple but definite contrasts between pensive bodily contours and sharp angles within and around the frames.

As a young boy he loved to paint. In his childhood travels with his father in the Sixties and Seventies he recalls seeing artists painting temples, waterfalls; the beautiful landscapes that were the essence of Sri Lanka in those days.

Jagath feels he is not alone in perceiving that the essence of the island has changed profoundly for the worse during the period within which his own art has flourished.

Yet his vibrant work contains no element of nostalgia nor of idealism. Rather it deals singularly, urgently with the present.

"The pictorial expansiveness of his new works alludes to a broad and forlorn psycho-scape, heavy with voiceless figures." (Jagath Weerasinghe).

The delicate compassion with which these figures are depicted spares the viewer from a surging feeling of despair.

But the sensation is of fragmentation, of a breaking down of human values.

Love, that which lies at the heart of Sri Lanka, is lost.

"It's universal," he urges, "there shouldn't be boundaries." 

The voicelessness finally lends itself to political apathy.

Many of the paintings focus on solo figures, shining white, but made impotent by their solitude, struggling to find a place for freedom of expression and communion.

Even the series of paintings that go under the title "Lovers" portray love as "victorious" yet the couples stand alone.

Their victory is like a fragile refuge, with the dark horizon stretching out behind them.

"The people are in darkness," says Jagath, "we struggle to come back out into the light." The shadows prevail and the figures remain mute for as long as love is eclipsed by greed and fear.

The exhibition continues until August 8th at The Gallery Cafe, 2, Alfred House Rd. Colombo 3.

The owner of The Gallery Cafe, Shanth Fernando, is passionate that the beautiful space inside the gallery should be used specifically for the celebration of young, contemporary Sri Lankan artists. Thirty-six-year- old Jagath Ravindra, who is also a lecturer in the philosophy of art at the University of Kelaniya is unquestionably a great representative of the up and coming modern art movement in Sri Lanka. The tranquil and sophisticated environment of The Gallery Cafe perfectly compliments this outstanding exhibition.

I would recommend it to anyone. 

But be quick if you are interested in buying. The paintings are selling like hot cakes.

Amaradeva Trust to help talented youth

The Forties saw two pioneer musicians Ananda Samarakoon and Sunil Shantha making their mark on the Sinhala music scene. We as students of the middle school at Ananda began appreciating their songs. For our luck, Ananda Samarakoon started coming to Ananda to teach. We began going for his classes, more to sing his songs rather than to learn the intricacies of music. 'Podi Mal Ethano', 'Besa Seethala Gangule', 'Endada Menike', 'Pudamu Me Kusum' and a host of other songs soon became our favourites. It didn't take us long to gather the words of Sunil Shantha's 'Olu Pipeela', 'Handapane' and 'Bovotiya Damg'. These were the songs we sang on school trips and other gatherings. 

Among many other lessons, Ananda taught us to appreciate good Sinhala music. Mr. K. S. Perera led the way. He would come with his violin and teach us the College song. I remember the first prize-giving after the war (possibly in 1946) being held at the Town Hall. And we sang 'Dina Dina Kithu Gosa Bovee' to commence the proceedings. 

By the time we entered the University in the early Fifties, Amaradeva (then Albert Perera) was on the scene. We didn't really appreciate his violin playing but when we heard his 'Peenamuko Kalu Gange', 'Shanta Me Re Yame' and 'Handapane Welithala', we soon learnt the words. Even though our favourites were ' Hai Hooi Babi Achchige Bicycle Eka' and 'Uda Rata Sita Menike Kenek Ava Varsity', at university outings, we never failed to sing a Sunil Shantha number or an Amaradeva song, often annoying those who insisted on singing 'Moratuwe baila'. In fact, my friend, (ace athlete then) K.L.F Wijedasa's (himself hailing from Moratuwa) voice used to reverberate through the corridors of Arunachalam Hall early morning singing 'Uda Geetha', Amaradeva's numbers from the then popular 'morning songs' programme broadcast over Radio Ceylon. 

By that time, having made an initial impact, (starting with 'Ai Kere Yamek Aale' & 'Bhave Bheetha Hera' in the second Sinhala film 'Asokamala') Amaradeva had 'vanished' to Bhatkande University in Lucknow thanks to the initiative taken by 'Lankadipa' editor D B Dhanapala and Professor Edirirweera Sarachchandra. His tutors included Pandit Vishnu Govind Jog who was most impressed with his violin playing. He excelled in his art and by the time he returned after a five year stint at Bhatkande, he had collected a 'double degree' - 'Sangeeth Vsharad' (vocal) and 'Vadya Visharadh' (instrumental - violin). 

On his return (by then Albert Perera had become Amaradeva) he had the challenging assignment - of composing music for Chitrasena's epoch making ballet, 'Karadiya'. It was right up his street and the music for the theme song 'Hoiya,Hoiya' by Mahagama Sekera became an instant hit. The music was appreciated by 'rasikas' both here and abroad. Amaradeva had created a new path in Sinhala ballet music. 'Nala Damayanthi' followed. Again Sekera and Amaradeva created a classic - 'Aetha Kandukara Himaw Arane'. 

'Jana Gayana', the radio programme he pioneered with Madawela S Ratnayake, was an experiment in presenting the traditional folk music in a new garb. It marked the beginning of a creative effort in developing an indigenous music based on folk melodies. Then came 'Madhuvanti', a novel radio musical programme with Mahagama Sekera where a combination of Ragadhari music with folk traditions was used to create some of the most beautiful songs. That's how songs created in the early Sixties - 'Sannaliyane', 'Irata Muwaven', 'Mala Hiru Basna Sande Yame' and a host of others - occupy a special place in our music scene. 'Vijaya Geetha' written by Dalton Alwis produced some of the most memorable patriotic songs like 'Sasara Vasana Turu'. 

Another noteworthy combination was Amaradeva and Sri Chandraratne Manawasinghe. 'Jagan Mohini', created for the Sarasaviya Film Festival in 1964 has come to stay as a unique invocation to Sarasawathie. When Amaradeva sings Manawasinghe's words in 'Maha Bo Vannama', we could feel the movement of the leaves of the Bo tree. The music created by Amaradeva for Sinhala films stands out way ahead of others, as evidenced by the music scores in 'Gamperaliya', 'Ranmutuduwa', 'Ransalu', 'Getawarayo', 'Delovak Atara', 'Akkara Paha', 'Sadol Kandulu', 'Tung Mang Handiya', 'Parasathu Mal', 'Saravita' and 'Madol Duwa'. Equally unique was his rendering of film songs. 'Pipunu Kusuma' and 'Sinindu Sudu Muthu Thalawe' ('Sath Samudura') written by Dr Siri Gunasinghe set to the music of Somadasa Elvitigala or 'Sansara Gamane' ('Senasuma Kothanada' - Premasiri Khemadasa's music) are just a few examples.

One can go on and on about Amaradeva's lasting contribution to Sinhala music. The journey is not over. It's encouraging to see him continuing his mission. He is still full of ideas, ever ready to take up challenges. We need him to show the way at a time when our music, as most other things, is drifting aimlessly.

Pandit Amaradeva, we know you can do it.

–D. C. Ranatunga

His voice - the greatest musical instrument

This is my favourite snapshot of Amaradeva, the picture that always comes to mind, whenever I think of our collaboration.

Different films needed different talents and he was big enough to accept the premise. This is one of the most endearing traits of Amaradeva - his great, unflappable, unruffled equanimity, serene almost to a point where you begin to wonder whether he quite belongs to our other more mundane world of petty squabbles over fees, contracts, deadlines, recording schedules etc. True, an occasional detractor will say - but he is disorganized, impractical, unpunctual, a dreamer. But of course he is all these things. It is a part of his make-up, part of the serenity of his character. It would not be Amaradeva, the maestro, if he worked like a computer. We have found him endearing, despite his little foibles, indeed because of them. 

For me, with an amateur's abiding passion for Western and Eastern music, he is as a singer and writer of songs, our country's gift to the world of international music; and for me his voice is the greatest musical instrument we have in this country. I would rather have his voice on my films than half a dozen 'virtuoso players' from our orchestras. 

His music, at its best, for its supreme artistry and sensitivity is unsurpassed and his songs in their gentle reverberations evoke the memories of our beautiful land, of our people, of our musical folk heritage as few songs have been able to do.

–Lester James Peries

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