A weekend afternoon. G & I set off for a walk towards the Mall in a bid to beat post-prandial coma. An unexpected treat awaits us at the amphitheatre outside Gaiety. A group of musicians is tuning its instruments. Then another group trips out lightly. These are dancers from Chamba, announces an officious little gentleman in the biggest sun-glasses you ever saw.
The dance begins.
Initially, the rhythm is gentle. The song speaks of a courtship. A boy offers a girl a flower, then the moon and finally, his life! She is flippant and shy, by turns.
The drums beat a little faster. The cadence picks up. Then, there are pauses in the movement. Together, the boy and the girl declare they desire to visit Shimla! She calls him "my gun"! He compares her to a flower! The jollity, it seems, is interspersed by a sort of spiritual elevation. As the tempo rises, feet move faster. Colours are a whirl.
The dance imparts an affirmation of life. It energises you, the spectator, with the vigour, the humour, the wonder, the enigma that life is. This is poetry with arms and legs. This is a revelation of the mystery of music, with the added advantage of being human and therefore, so much more palpable.
The music in the dancers' soul spills on to the audience....
The drums beat a little faster. The cadence picks up. Then, there are pauses in the movement. Together, the boy and the girl declare they desire to visit Shimla! She calls him "my gun"! He compares her to a flower! The jollity, it seems, is interspersed by a sort of spiritual elevation. As the tempo rises, feet move faster. Colours are a whirl.
The dance imparts an affirmation of life. It energises you, the spectator, with the vigour, the humour, the wonder, the enigma that life is. This is poetry with arms and legs. This is a revelation of the mystery of music, with the added advantage of being human and therefore, so much more palpable.
The music in the dancers' soul spills on to the audience....
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4 comments:
Beautifully written and those colours are so vibrant. I love those embroidered shoes.
Thank you, Ann! The shoes are called "pulla". Made of hemp, they are the best thing to wear when it's really cold. Everyone has a favourite pair! These are mine: http://www.photoblog.com/SoulCurry/2008/12/05/shallow-post-of-the-day.html
These are the colors of rural life here in Himachal. Great pics. Nice to know you were there at the Gaiety. Any updates on the Gaiety festival. Did you watched any of the plays?
Hi Nityin! I do. I have lots of things to say about the Gaiety Festival - most of them unkind. Mom says "If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything!". So I'm holding my counsel :D
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