Cover story
Kooththu: more than merely a mirror unto nature
Source: Northeastern Monthly
By: J. S. Tissainayagam
“Usually, neither the players nor the audience understand why something is happening when kooththu performances are staged. If you ask a spectator why such-and-such a thing was going on, he would say, ‘ask the annaviyar;’ the annaviyar, stuck for an explanation, would maintain dogmatically, ‘that was how things are traditionally done,’” said S. Sivanayagam.
A more enterprising annavyiar would however interpret the text in an entirely subjective manner leading to further confusion due to multiple, and sometimes absurd, explanations put forward. “The basic point is: if the annaviyar finds it difficult to make sense of the script, how the audience can be expected to do so,” said Sivanayagam.
Sivanayagam is an edttu annaviyar, or a script writer-director, from Seelamunai, an eastern village traditionally renowned for kooththu. He is among those who are passionately involved in efforts to reformulate kooththu to make it more relevant to contemporary times and avoid situations where the director blindly appeals to tradition as his guide for structuring a kooththu performance in a certain way.
Sivanyagam says however that it was not only ignorance that dictates the rigidity of the script; it is also the power relationships theatrical performances such as kooththu sought to reinforce through captive audiences. He says that though the annaviyar might understand what was taking place, he was powerless to do anything about it because there were strong social sanctions against changing the script. All the annaviyar could do was to change the rhythms or the beat of the music, but not the lines, making even an independent-minded annaviyar think twice before tinkering with the script.
Kooththu, is community theatre, not folk art. “Folk theatre is, ritually, intimately linked with the environment from which it springs. Kooththu is different. Its origins are in seasonal rituals in temples. I believe koothtus deliberately used the Ramayana and Mahabaratha for the project of Sanskritising Tamil society,” said S. Jeyasankar, a theatre activist and lecturer in drama and theatre, at the Eastern University, Batticaloa.
Jeysankar says that traditional kooththu, which might have had folk origins, was quietly displaced when the poets (pulavar) used the kooththu form but foisted on it stories from the Sanskrit epics.
Though projecting a value system and worldview of the upper castes, kooththu was degraded as uncivilised by that section of society that considered itself as refined and economically affluent. Therefore kooththu became identified as an entertainment of the lower orders and associated with drunkenness and general disorderly behaviour.
“The traditional kooththu reflected Brahminic values and referred to women and the lower castes in derogatory terms,” said T. Gowriswaran, a final year student in fine arts at the Eastern University and a kooththu artiste.
Such portrayal of women, promoting caste differences and using obscenities in the script, when played before contemporary audiences that were changing from the experiences of war, exposure to the media, and general education, led to disenchantment with the content of kooththu performances.
Realising that blind repetition of the lines in a script and watching performances portraying archaic values were leading to audience disenchantment, a movement began to gather momentum that tried to look anew at performances, scripts and the impact of social experience on kooththu.
The way forward therefore was not conserving the traditional kooththu, but reformulating it in a way that it reflected the concerns, aspirations and suffering of contemporary audiences, and thereby engaging their attention.
“Kooththu is community theatre. Therefore it is intimately linked to society. I realised that any meaningful research for reformulating kooththu had to be community based and participatory,” says Jeyasankar, pivot of the movement for reformulation.
“Therefore if kooththu was to be reformulated, there had to be extensive participation in the process by the community. There had to be a symbiotic relationship between research in drama done through an academic institution like a university and the practitioners of the art,” Jeyasankar continues.
As in many parts of Sri Lanka, in fact in the subcontinent, traditional arts and craft are associated with geographical locations and social formations within them. Kooththu is no different. In Batticaloa among the villages celebrated for kooththu performances are Seelamunai and Kannankudah. And it is to Seelamunai that our focus now turns.
“In the past, there were people who came to Seelamunai saying they were doing research on kooththu, but they never consulted the annaviyar. And neither the village nor the community benefited from the research,” said Sivanayagam.
But with the objective of reformulation capturing the imagination of artistes and audiences, a series of discussions began in Seelamunai that not only involved those traditionally connected with koothtu such as performers and/or the annaviyar, but also the general public and the researchers. The idea was to find out what lay behind formulating an art form to be performed in a particular way.
Among the debates that figured during these discussions was a reappraisal of the Sanskrit epic Mahabaratha, which is the source of well-known kooththu performances such as Tharmapuththiran. Among the questions asked was on stereotyping the Pandavas as noble and the Kurus as evil, while others brought up the question of the moral depravity of Yudhistra for losing Drupathi for a wager.
These questions led the way to deepen the discussions. “Yudhistra gambling away Drupathi was a wonderful opportunity to begin a discussion on gender,” said Gowriswaran.
“It is only when you get involved in such projects you realise the depth of knowledge possessed by people who are not conventionally well-educated,” said Jeyasankar.The reformulation and its product – a script incorporating amendments the community wanted – brought into the process strong female participation in the performances. Traditionally, men played the role of women on the pretext that they (women) did not have energy to dance throughout the night. However, the actual reason was ritual un-cleanliness associated with menstruation since the kooththu was performed in the precincts of the temple. But this has begun to change and the reformulation movement used women and girls as much as possible to increase participation.
At the end of the reformulation exercise, Tharmapuththiran kooththu, based on the Mahabaratha, was transformed by the collective wisdom from the discussions at Seelamunai and renamed Simmasana por (Battle for the throne). This kooththu is known as the ‘fount of Vadamodi kooththu’ (thai kooththu) because it encompasses all aspects of a kooththu performance.
A significant aspect of the kooththu debate was the appropriate venue of its performance. In the 1950s, important kooththu performances were played before urban audiences, when it was for the first time trans-located from its traditional roots in the village to the metropolis. It was a time of cultural revival, which saw the birth of Sinhala national theatre, alongside which kooththu was performed as Tamil traditional theatre.
During the reformulation however, the appropriateness of performing kooththu on the proscenium arch stage, where it is now usually performed, was raised. To some critics the fullest theatrical experience of a kooththu performance could be got only in the vattakalari, or theatre-in-the-round on which kooththu was, and is, traditionally performed in villages like Seelamuniai and others in the northeast.
“Kooththu performances reflect the motion of the earth revolving of itself and at the same time rotating around the sun. This concept is brought out best when staged in the vattakalari,” said Gowriswaran.
He says when kooththu is staged in the conventional proscenium arch theatre there is a feeling of confinement and restriction, both for audiences and performers, which is not there in the vattakalari, which is usually set up in the village square. “In a conventional performance the interaction is only between the performers and the group of theatre goers who have come to see the play. In the vattakalari you involve the whole community,” Gowriswaran said.
Kooththu artistes are also concerned that the proscenium arch stage ignores the centrality of the annaviyar to the performance. As the director or stage manager in a conventional western play is away from the footlights, kooththu performances in a proscenium arch theatre attempts to ‘hide’ the annaviyar.
“In a traditional performance the annaviyar is absolutely central. He monitors the performance all the time. If the footwork of the dancer goes awry for some reason, the annaviyar can do a subtle change of the beat to accommodate it. Or if the performer misses a line the annaviyar can prompt him unobtrusively,” Gowriswaran said.But kooththu artistes emphasise this does not mean they devalue the performances of kooththu on the proscenium arch stage. They say such theatre has come to stay and undermining it is not their project.
“All we are saying is that performances in the vattakalari should go side by side with those on the proscenium arch stage. It is just that the performances in the vattakalari are a different experience and will take kooththu to a new stage in its development as community theatre,” said Gowriswaran.
“Performances in the proscenium arch theatre and at the vattakalai could learn from each other: they could complement each other,” says James Thompson, director, Centre for Applied Drama Research, University of Manchester.
Though controversial and potentially dangerous, contemporary politics found its way both into the discussions during the reformulation, as well as in the casual conversations about the performances. Tharmapuththiran or Simmasana por, based on the epic Mahabaratha, which is set against background of the contest of two royal houses for supremacy – the Kurus and the Pandavas – set the stage.
Tharmapuththiran or Simmasana por is about power and sovereignty, which is what the ethnic conflict in Sri Lanka, is all about. It also demonstrates the futility of war because of the suffering it brings about. But its greatest contemporary relevance perhaps is astute manipulation by Krishna, who is essentially an outsider to the conflict between the Kurus and the Pandavas, to fulfil his own agenda.
The performers and audiences give positive accounts of how the revival of kooththu through the reformulation project has impacted on their daily lives. For one, its revival has given greater exposure to kooththu artistes and accorded honour due to a skilled performer.
“In the old days, though there were many people who performed the kooththu some found social recognition because of their skills in performance. So much so they came to be known as penn pillai Sinniah or mirthangam Sellathurai,” said T. Muththulingam, an edttu annaviyar.
Both Muthulingam’s father and grandfather were well-known kooththu artistes in their time. His father Sinniah, became known as penn pillai Sinniah because of skill in taking women’s roles or penn kooththu, in the performances. “Penn kooththu is the real test for an artiste and if you are famous for playing such roles you have to be really very skilled,” said Muthulingam.
Kooththu, its admirers say, is an education by itself. For one, the performer has to be absolutely physically fit. But this is not all. Kooththu is a good way of banishing stage fright among the young and due to having to commit large chunks of material to memory, a sound way of activating the mind.
The discussion and community involvement in the reformulation exercise infused the desire for community participation in other aspects of existence as well. “I remember during our kooththu discussions someone asked, ‘If you can discuss kooththu why can’t we discuss our economic problems?’” said Gowriswaran.
Kooththu’s immense contribution in relieving mental anxiety, especially in a population as in the east that was caught up in cycles of violence is also acknowledged. Not only could watching a performance be a cathartic experience for troubled souls, but also the collective, participatory effort allows the community to share the individual’s trauma, anxiety and loss.
“Watching and participating in theatre and ritual helps in restoring mental well-being,” says Thompson, who is a participant, observer and commentator on the reformulation of kooththu going on in Seelamunai.
To the artistes, the academics and annaviyars the sustainability of the reformulated art form is very important. Fortunately, a group of young people seem to be interested. “Like in the case of cinema, continuous exposure has kindled in them an interest. As in any craft, one or two of them who were helping around, but have now begun taking on minor roles,” said Sivanayagam.
Another test of sustainability is whether performable scripts are generated from the community. Here again the response appears positive. “We performed Simmasana Por. We are now in reformulating a new one – Avimanju Illakanan vathai,” said Sivanyagam. “Kooththu is a participatory exercise and touches the life of the entire community. I am hopeful its multifarious aspects will help the development of the community in Seelamunai and other adjacent villages to live a community-oriented spirit,” said Jeyasankar.
