A Q U A R T E R LY N E W S L E T T E R F R O M N AT I O N A L F O L K L O R E S U P P O R T C E N T R E

VOLUME 1

ISSUE 3 JANUARY 2002

Public Sector Folklore

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National Folklore Support Centre (NFSC) is a nongovernmental, non-profit organisation, registered in Chennai dedicated to the promotion of Indian folklore research, education, training, networking and publications. The aim of the centre is to integrate scholarship with activism, aesthetic appreciation with community development, comparative folklore studies with cultural diversities and identities, dissemination of information with multidisciplinary dialogues, folklore fieldwork with developmental issues and folklore advocacy with public programming events. Folklore is a tradition based on any expressive behaviour that brings a group together, creates a convention and commits it to cultural memory. NFSC aims to achieve its goals through cooperative and experimental activities at various levels. NFSC is supported by a grant from the Ford Foundation.

S T A F F
Programme Officer
N. Venugopalan, Publications

Regional Resource Persons V. Jayarajan Kuldeep Kothari Moji Riba K.V.S.L. Narasamamba Nima S. Gadhia Parag M. Sarma Sanat Kumar Mitra Satyabrata Ghosh Shikha Jhingan Susmita Poddar M.N. Venkatesha

B O A R D

O F

T R U S T E E S

Ashoke Chatterjee
B-1002, Rushin Tower, Behind Someshwar 2, Satellite Road, Ahmedabad

N. Bhakthavathsala Reddy
Dean, School of Folk and Tribal lore, Warangal

Administrative Officers
D. Sadasivam, Finance T.R. Sivasubramaniam, Public Relations

Birendranath Datta
Chandrabala Barooah Road, Silpukhuri, Guwahati

Dadi D. Pudumjee
B2/2211 Vasant Kunj, New Delhi

Programme Assistants
R. Murugan, Data Bank and Library Jasmine K. Dharod, Public Programme Athrongla Sangtam, Public Programme M. Ramakrishnan, Public Programme

Deborah Thiagarajan
President, Madras Craft Foundation, Chennai

Jyotindra Jain
Professor and Dean, Department of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi

Komal Kothari
Chairman, NFSC. Director, Rupayan Sansthan, Folklore Institute of Rajasthan,Jodhpur,Rajasthan

Support Staff

INDIAN FOLKLIFE - EDITORIAL TEAM

Munira Sen
Executive Director, Madhyam,Bangalore

Santhilatha S. Kumar P.T. Devan K. Kamal Ahamed V. Thennarsu C. Kannan

M.D.Muthukumaraswamy
Executive Trustee and Director, NFSC, Chennai

M.D. Muthukumaraswamy, Editor N. Venugopalan, Associate Editor Ranjan De, Designer

K. Ramadas
Deputy Director, Regional Resources Centre for Folk Performing Arts, Udupi

P. Subramaniyam
Director, Centre for Development Research and Training, Chennai

C O N T E N T S EDITORIAL.......................................................3 ANNOUNCEMENTS......................................4, 8 INTERVIEW......................................................5 SPOTLIGHT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 HAPPENINGS.......................................11 INNOV ATIONS.................................................14 COMMENTS.....................................................16 VIEWPOINT.....................................................18 REVIEW. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 4
Cover Illustration: Vibhishana, wearing his demon mask, sits in his hut waiting for his cue line Courtesy: Actors, Pilgrims, Kings and Gods by Anuradha Kapur, Calcatta: Seagull Books, 1990

Y. A. Sudhakar Reddy
Reader, Centre for Folk Culture Studies, S. N. School, Hyderabad

Veenapani Chawla
Director, Adishakti Laboratory for Theater Research, Pondicherry

http://www. i n d i a n f o l k l o r e . o r g NEXT ISSUE The April special issue is on NFSC Folk Festival, March 2002: Oral narratives, Folk paintings, Musical instruments and Puppetry of India. Closing date for submission of articles for the next issue is March 31, 2002. All Communications should be addressed to: The Associate Editor, Indian Folklife, National Folklore Support Centre, No: 7, Fifth Cross Street,Rajalakshmi Nagar, Velachery, Chennai - 600 042. Ph: 044-2448589, Telefax: 044-2450553, email: venu@indianfolklore.org

On Syncretism April, 2000

On City Landscapes and Folklore July, 2000

On Ecological Citizenship, Local Knowledge and Folklife, October, 2000

On Arts, Crafts and Folklife January, 2001

The Advent of Asian Century in Folklore April, 2001

Religion and Folklife July, 2001

Museums, Folklife and Visual Culture October, 2001

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NFSC Folk Festival, March 2002: oral narratives, folk paintings, musical instruments and puppetry of India M.D. Muthukumaraswamy

This festival subscribes to the poetics of invisible

connections. Operating between the twin poles of totality and plethora NFSC s festival intends to show how different performances, folk paintings, oral narratives, musical instruments and puppetry traditions refer to one another, organise themselves into a single discourse, converge with institutions and practices and carry meanings that may be common to a whole period. Inter-textuality, as it is known in the parlance of literary criticism, is the measure, practice and enunciating principle behind the organisation of this festival that cuts across genres, traditions and languages of Indian subcontinent. The intention is to create interpretative events that provide cultural encounters for the urban audiences in the city of Chennai to revisit their memories, selves, concepts of modernity and global culture. The feasibility of such interpretative transfer depends ineluctably on our context. The dawn of twenty-first century appears to be a harbinger of an age of forgetfulness for the Indian subcontinent where the proliferation of information has strangely quelled the possibilities of meanings. Spread of information devoid of significance and signification characterise contemporary Indian city life with junk mails, short message services on mobile phones, empty advertisements, mutilated language of the internet chat and television mediated realities of human experience. We seem to have forgotten the rich reservoir of oral expressions. The tangible erosion is immediately felt on the loss of vocabulary in the language of everyday use. Our capacity to capture, articulate and elaborate human experience in words seems to be continuously dwindling. If information is power, power seems to be absolutely meaningless and as a corollary, powerlessness is where meaning is. Artistic folk traditions have been viewed as totally powerless in our society stratified by class, caste and cultural strands. While the knowledge on the caste and class stratification of our society is commonplace, the politics of cultural stands is not. Commercial mainstream, hegemonic classical, insensitive popular, invisible avantgarde and suppressed folklore are the five strands of Indian culture. The inter-relationships between these five strands vary from state to state and language to language. What remains constant is the tendency of the commercial and popular mainstream to misrepresent folklore as things of the underdeveloped past. What follows is a condescending urban patronage towards unchanging, traditional and authentic folklore and materials and mechanisms associated with it. NFSCs attempts have always been to challenge these notions and to present folklore as they are found. In other words, our attempts have been to present folklore as changing contemporary phenomenon and to encourage the view of the tradition as evolving and dynamic process. We have found allies in the practitioners of avant-garde art, be it, drama, painting, literature, music, cinema, dance or design. This festival is no exception to our consistent efforts and it further strives towards consolidation of our allies. In that sense, in our modern contemporary times, the task of the true folklorist (and hence the festival) is to

restore his specialised idiom to the communal, collective structures, which underlie speech, language and artistic expressions. Public presentation of folklore in a context other than where it originates from would first of all mean that our discursive world is never on its first day. Its prospects precede us, saturated with use, with reference, with connotations more or less buried but recuperable sediments of recall and meaning. This alone enables all communicative, semiotic notions to designate and to signify. It is these informing planes that generate metaphor, metonymy and the symbolic. In the festival situation, the sources of such semantic planes emerge in comparison as genres, as systems with differences and as expressions having relations of resemblance. Semiotic creatures we are, we are born to retell tales to participate, to traverse through, to alter, to interpret and to make sense of the discursive world that precedes us. Retelling is an existential instance of all linguistic and

cultural resources rushing to ones rescue at the crucial juncture of communicative act. The philosophical proposition of memory aiding narrative confrontation of the world has endless fascination for anyone who strives to see the existential drama of retelling beyond the insights of oral formulae theory. It may also be seen as an effort to view the vast corpus of Indian oral epics as a kind of Saussurean langue for Indian civilisation and culture. While the ideas and concepts behind why we chose to do a festival on oral epics were clear from the beginning the practical aspects of presenting them underwent several changes from the original conception. Most of the oral epics are very slow to develop and they do not hold the attention of the audiences who do not belong to the communities. In the original contexts the admiration with which the oral epics are held is mainly due to their functions such as construction of communitys identity, its values and models of human conduct. In several cases, oral epics serve as referential points for symbolic structure of the community s history and mythology. So the insider s identification with the characters and events in the epics is one of ritual awe and community obligation that go beyond the interests in the narrative texts. These processes of mediation are common not only to epics that are intensely community specific but also to performances of pan Indian nature such as Ramayana and Mahabharata.

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Initially I thought we should avoid bringing performances of pan Indian nature and we should focus only on community specific epics. I abandoned this view as we progressed with our research and I realised that even performances of particular episodes from the pan Indian epics have specific contemporary meanings for communities as it is in the case of Chitrakathi performances of Maharashtra. How do I communicate this to urban audience who think these are stories of the past? I decided to present Pata painting and narratives from West Bengal in comparison to Chitrakathi because Pata painting narratives deal with explicit contemporary themes. Whoever sees both the forms would soon learn that both are contemporary artistic engagements although one is an interpretation of an old myth and another is thematic representation of our times. The trouble is Pata narratives are not epic length stories but I decided to ignore it for the obvious reasons. As we proceeded to include tale of Pabuji from Rajasthan and Padam Katha performances of caste myths of Andhra Pradesh purely on the basis that these are forms that use paintings as aids for oral narrations it became clear to me that genre is an outside construct imposed on forms that do not inherently pledge to interpretative categories. The opportunity to test the limits of genre as an interpretative category came our way as we started putting together events of folk theatre from different parts of the country. While Therukkoothu, Chindu Yakshagana and Yakshagana share several features of South Indian folk theatre tradition, Chavittunatakam as Christian folk theatre historically grew with new generic qualities and established itself as a tradition in its own right. Is Tamasha folk theatre or popular theatre? Is Mayurbhanj Chhau folk theatre or classical dance? The sequencing of folk theatre events in the festival is bound to raise these questions and we hope that such an enquiry would allow us to go beyond the limits of the genre in order to see continuity between cultural strands. The puppetry festival organised at Dakshinachitra intends to show the connections beyond the cultural strands and into the spheres of technology such as digital animation.

Once you transgress the limits of genre, what you might like to see is free variety of expressions. That exactly is what we intend to provide under the category of events called epic singing and dancing. While Villuppattu, Khamba Thoibi, Chandaini and Ponung offer excellent representative samples of epic singing and dancing available through out the country, we have included two evenings of folk singing by child musicians of Rajasthan. They are not epic singers and their performances have nothing to do with epic singing and dancing. What they intend to perform is songs connected with life cycle ceremonies. The idea is to convey how folk singing per se is intimately connected to contexts. Please do see the calendar of events in this issue (pp.12-3). However much we try we cannot convey the contexts of oral narratives through performances alone. We hope the exhibitions of folk musical instruments; photography and folk paintings together would communicate the contexts of oral narratives through their iconic presence as artefacts, images and representations. Through this festival we convey the knowledge of folk forms; we convey the knowledge on folk genres; we convey the knowledge of contexts; we convey the knowledge of cultural strands and we convey the knowledge of changes in expressive traditions. We do that through variety of participatory events through out the city of Chennai in all available cultural spaces from March 4,2002 to March 13, 2002. If this can be called reconstitution of the public sphere in favour of folk culture, well yes, that exactly is the intention. Can we succeed in this experimental exercise? That is the challenge of public sector folklore.

Announcement ifrj Indian Folklore Research Journal

Inaugural Issue Volume One Number One May 2001

FOR KINGS SAKE: NARRATIVES AS DESIGNER TEXTS - Soumen Sen / POPULAR CULTURE AND THE NORTH INDIAN ORAL EPIC DHOLA - Susan S. Wadley / ALTERNATIVE PARADIGMS IN FOLKLORE STUDIES: THE INDIAN CHAPTER - Nita Mathur / AFRO-BRAZILIAN AVATRAS: GANDHIS SONS SAMBA IN SOUTH AMERICA - Pravina Shukla / THE FIVE ELEMENTS IN THE AA RITUALS OF ORISSA - Ileana Citaristi / WHEN THE STONE CRUMBLES - Desmond L. Kharmawphlang / PATTERNS OF MYTHICAL RECONSTRUCTION IN OODGEROO NUNUKULS DREAMTIME - V. Bharathi Harishankar / NORTH AMERICAN FOLKLORISTS FACING THE MILLENNIUM - Lee Haring / MYTH AND IDENTITY - THE NARRATIVE CONSTRUCTION OF SELF IN THE ORAL TRADITION OF VADR COMMUNITIES - Guy Poitevin / Book Reviews: LIVES OF INDIAN IMAGES Richard H. Davis - Review by Aarti Kawlra / EXPLORING INDIAS SACRED ART Selected Writings of Stella Kramrisch. Edited with a biographical essay by Barbara Stoler Miller - Review by Aarti Kawlra / THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC Edited by Nils L. Wallin, Bjrn Merker, and Steven Brown - Review by Ludwig Pesch

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Folk performers have a dynamic relationship with other traditions

Peter Claus is an anthropologist and folklorist working at California State University, Hayward, America and the author of many books and articles. Visit www. isis.csuhayward.edu.ALSS/auth/ claus/index.htm for viewing his online articles: Variability in Tulu Paddanas,Ritual transforms a Myth,Unity in Folklore, Kadu Golla Dualism and Ethnography of Spirit Possession. E-mail: pclaus@csuhayward.edu. Interview with Peter Claus by Venu You have devoted a great deal of your research to the study of Tulu Paddanas; about the space of womens singing, their bond in matrilineal relationship, etc. Also you attempted to develop a methodology that is more attentive to its content and expression. Do these songs approach the past to unsettle the stability of imposed hierarchies and divisions? What do they signify for our current folklore engagements and can we hear a kind of rebellious murmur in those songs? Thats a complicated question, because you are talking about social system on one handmatrilineality-and a song tradition on the other hand. To use the word song of course is to make small of what is really great: these songs are mini-epics often 4 to 6 hours long, or more. Some are clearly epic in length, and the Siri Paddana is a very specific set of those. The genre called Paddana, itself is complicated with male sub-genres and female ones. I have to say that with regard to the song part of it, the actual recitation, I was attracted both to the male subgenres of this tradition which occur during the bhuta kolas (bhuta rituals), which are different from the Siri Jatras. Both of these are ritual contexts. But I was also attracted to the women s songs, which are sung when women are transplanting paddy in the paddy fields. These are attractive for very, very different reasons. They are all different in some ways, and I have tried to talk about the differences in some of my articles. But the womens traditionssinging the very same songselaborates the stories in beautifully poetic ways. My original research proposal in 1975 was to collect ones related to specific bhuta cult activities (and I use the word cult here not in any derogatory sense a label for a group of people that have a common sense of interest in religious matters). I chose the Billava Koti-Chennaya Paddana cult as one, the Mundaldakalu,(a so-called dalit caste), Kordabbu Paddana and thirdly the Siri Paddana, which is totally different: it is associated with a cult which is not caste associatedit is multi-caste. Initially I did work on the male hero traditions, especially with the Koti Chennaya tradition, but then when I started working with the Siri Paddana I was drawn to the womens traditions. And from that Paddana to other womens Paddanas that they sing in the fields. The sheer beauty of those Paddanas made me want to collect a whole bunch of them just to listen to them, just to experience the imagery. This is what brought me back about five years later to do research pretty much exclusively on the womens tradition. And as I collected more and more of those I was able to see the Siri one, as well as the mens song traditions in much better perspective. As to matrilineality in any of these, I dont think its an important feature. Even in the Siri tradition, it is about men and women, no doubt, but matrilineality, I think is secondary. I think all South Indian Dravidian cultures (maybe not all but certainly the majority) give a lot of prominence to women in comparison with other types of kinship systems. They all give, I think, an outsider, a male such as myself, much freer interaction with women. I dont know, maybe matrilineality gives a slightly greater edge to this but I dont think so actually. As to rebellious, I dont think that is what characterises the Siri Paddana or any of these Paddanas. The Siri Paddana is particularly associated with the Siri Jatra, the Siri cult ritual that occur once a year. It s not about rebelling, it is about a mutual sense of curing, help, and aid. It s true that in those cult activities, women have a visible prominence. That is what amazed me the first time I saw a Siri Jatrathe thousands of possessed women doing and acting in ways that were extraordinary. However quite as equally extraordinary for men s behaviour toobut there are fewer men who are participants in the Siri cult. In the fields when the women sing the Siri Paddana, that s where you see the greatest elaboration of the story and the narrative takes its fullest form. Whatever rebelliousness there may be in the narrative it is most elaborately detailed in the womens field song. When you get to the cult recitation, it s the male control of the women s possession, which predominates, but again there is not a sense of rebelliousness, but of competition between women: sisters. There is also a sense of collaboration, there is a sense of curing, there is a sense of focussing everyones attentionmen s and women s attentionon a woman, a single and usually young woman, who is experiencing difficulties, and how the aid of the Siri spirits can be brought to bear on that. Her difficulties are with one of the Siri spirits. If indeed she is possessed by a Siri spirit, then the issue is how that possession can be turned from a difficult one in to one that she can control for the benefit of everyone involved. Once she can control the spirit herself, she can help others. So the male involvement is what transforms spirit possession from difficulty to social good, but women also participate in that transformation. I dont see a competition in which there would be rebelliousness. So your full question was about Tulu Paddanas, matrilineality and rebelliousness has been atleast partially answered. Siri narratives brought me to look at the women s Paddana tradition, but what brought me to do the collections that I have done on them is the sheer beauty of the women s traditions. When you say that they contain a curative value it is

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interpreted. The uneasiness and vigilance is in a way connected to your comments about margi and desi.also. You are of the opinion that some of the words which regional languages developed are not very subtle or productive categories for understanding the idea of folklore. I can see that there is a kind of imagination behind refusing to accept these limited definitions. However, would you explain that tension more clearly? It is one thing to say that these categories are not useful anymore to understand the history of the present. At the same time, it is important to identify those categories, which are operational or conceptually useful to understand the idea of folklore. Maybe the idea of folklore itself is undergoing change in our times. interesting to see a social fabric which supports male dominated perspective and within that structure women occupy a space other than what is known in general. It is significant to the study of the narrative mode of Paddanas and also to conceive it as a chronicle of our time. Is there any singular point or multiple factors which makes them so unique and what is that seminal position which women occupied in that? I remember your article also stress the role of women and the supportive role of men. So does that make the feminine voice very seminal in the narrative? Well, the terms margi and desi are terms that were not in any way developed by people who deal in terms of folklore today. There was a relationship between regional and Sanskritic traditions, and folklore was left out of this. Folklore, the culture of the untouchable, the marginalized, the tribal was never part of that binary. Perhaps a new category had to be introduced to draw attention to their traditions and that it is very much a part of what people have done under the label of folklore. But I also have an objection to folklore and its implied opposite, whatever that may be. I dont exactly know why a category of folklore exists as if that is something that has to be different from everything else. In anycase , folk vs. the rest of us is a European and English and American set of distinctions that have a wholly different baggage to them with a very different set of historical significance, that I dont think apply very well to India, or to Africa or to other parts of Asia. Is it because of the cultural diversity? No, it has to do with what needs to be distinguished, and I dont think folklore needs to be distinguished. It is sort of the baseline of culture. In fact, it is the new kinds of movements which are distinguished by people within a culture, such as America, with movements like postmodern having to distinguish itself and Modern and before that enlightened, etc. Those were types of writing or types of art that, as they developed in a culture, get labels, and get distinctions because of those labels, or along with those labels. Nevertheless, folklore never needs to have a distinction because that was the baseline from which other things seek to distinguish themselves. We view all of this from our perspective as if modern and post-modern and enlightened was normal and folk is something different, needing a label: it s not, it is what s normal, usual, everyday thinking and practice. Why we needed to create a word like folklore to identify the baseline, I am unsure. Because culture is always changing and the word folklore implies that there is some point at which that baseline was solidified and made static, made unchanging. If that s the intention of use of that word is, then I have no interest in that word because it does not pertain to any sort of reality that I have ever encountered. Everything that I have studied in folklore is under constant change. Change, not only in terms of

It is important, there is no doubt about that. But I dont see it as unique or extraordinary. It s definitely also a part of Keralas Pampomtullal, where women play a very prominent role. It is part of Andhra PradeshDavid Knight has written about the Veerabhadra cults and the Perantalu cults there. I understand from Isabelle Nabokov s writings and Margaret Trawick s writings that women play a very prominent role in Tamil culture too, and in Tamil families. I dont think there is anything extraordinary about the Tulu situation, within South Indian context. But perhaps it is revelational what I have written about how narrative song traditions view womens role in the kinship systems and society in south India. I dont know why other anthropologists did not write about it. It may have been my focus on the oral literature that women sing. But I always felt that Dravidian kinship systems placed women in equal positionnot equal as in democracy, individuality but equal prominence, equal importance in the family. Although that is malleable too in some communities, it is more subtle, in some it is more exposed. Much has been made in the folklore literature by Kannada folklorists about the nature of Siri and how it expresses the women s rebelliousness, but I have never entirely gone along with that. Anything I might have written that suggests that, was not meant to support that sort of idea. There have been many kinds of extravagant ideas expressed by Kannada folklorists about the Siri material, and viewing the Siri Jatra activities. The word Siri in Kannada in some parts of Karnataka means a rebellious, headstrong woman, but I dont get the impression in Tulunad, among the Tuluvas that it means that; maybe it has something of that connotation but not to be over-

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content but change in distribution and spread, and its accessibility by small, limited groups or mass groups, in other words, popular culture, to apply another label to distinguish it from folklore, which implies a more restricted use. But I dont think these labels identify anything. Perhaps they identify, if anything, maybe a process: something becomes loosened from restriction within an identity group to become more popular, then you call it popular culture. When it is constrained and identified with one group, then you call it that groups folklore. So that you talk about Italian customs, food and stories and you call it Italian folklore and that identifies a group of Italian Americans, or German folklore, or British folklore. These phrases identify a collection of things, practices, stories and so forth within a restricted group of people as an identity. But you dont need the word folklore either when you talk about German customs, German tales: there are few (if any) customs or tales that are found only among the Germans. All can be shown to have developed out of practices and stories shared far more broadly than just among Germans. There is a process by which they may have become restricted to Germans (If they did) that leads them to be identified as German folklore. Why I asked you the question about cultural diversity is that during our afternoon interaction at NFSC, you were talking about border communities and nomadic peoples folklore. We did not pursue further but the idea of nomadicity generates new possibilities in understanding folklore. The idea of nomad provides new dimensions to the study of folklore. The idea of nomad does not support the idea a fixed place in space and time. It also contains lot of creative potential, which the idea of group or community doesnt have. When we did a series of workshops on visual art traditions of India, I always thought that it is the communal which contains the individual. The individual is like a picture of that being. The individual exists only during the singularity of that event or performance or during the making of that work of art. This status of nomadicity also allows variation within the collectivity. They dont govern the practice. It allows the performer or artist to be close to his/her community as well as makes possible the movement away from it. Why you hold the opinion that folklore does not really need all that? Well, I dont know I agree although I have thought about all which you have mentioned about nomadicity. But I like the idea, I think it is something that hasnt been explored very well, especially with regard to Indian folklore of course, it has been done with European folklore, especially in America because American folklore is all about where your ancestors came from: Italy, Germany, Sweden, England, Spain or where you supposed your ancestors came from, those you want to identify with. But it also happens in India, and the material that we are talking about, lets call it folklore, often or sometimes has that characteristic of nomadicity (I like that word). Right now I am studying a group called the Gollas of Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka and the Kuravas too,

which are widely dispersed people. Actually my interest in them was to get myself back to looking at more thoroughly anthropological issues, less folklore ideas, but I found myself concerned with folklore once again in just exactly that aspect of folklore that nomadicity implies. It is what holds a people together, in a sense, a microdiaspora of Gollas. The Katama Raju Katha for some Gollas, or for Kuravas, the Mallana, Maillara, or Kandhoba story and others they have a huge repertoire of folklore hold these diasporic peoples together. There are performing groups and importantly, I believe, they travel throughout the Kuraba and Kurama and Golla diasporas, performing these stories about the Golla and Kuraba heroes. Their performances have the effect of maintaining a certain cultural unity within the diaspora, it holds together an identity group and keeps them as a social group, as opposed to a group that disperses and dissolves. And what I found myself doing in my present research is seeing the degree to which those performers and their songs and performances are effective in holding the group and the group identity together. Our research is in progress and I dont have any answers, although my preliminary findings are in an unpublished paper from a conference of the Hyderabad Central University Centre, which speaks about some of these issues. The Social Effectiveness of Performance is I think what I call that particular paper, and it begins to address some aspects of your question, your identification of nomadicity of folklore. It doesnt address some of the aspects that you mentioned the aesthetic dimension, the artistic dimension I dont know quite how to address those. My expertise lies in social anthropology, not in aesthetics, although the aesthetics of folk traditions always attracts me, but in terms of what gives me something to work with is the social effectiveness. Everything that I have done with folklore actually is on the social effectiveness of folklore. You are also involved in the setting up of few folklore institutions in India. These institutions in a way attempt to reinvent wheels-ones knowledge or entire work become another individuals tool or baseline. The folk artist also transforms his/her expertise, innovativeness, through what is preserved, archived and presented by these institutions to the community. These processes may also revitalise the tradition. What are your experiences in working in India?

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I dont think that the folk ever-needed folklore centres to become inspired. I could give innumerable instances to show that folk performers draw techniques and content they see in other traditions into their own tradition. Folk performers are not as isolated from one another as most of us like to think. We like to imagine them as pure or something like that ,but they are not. They have a dynamic relationship with other traditions around them. That is as it should be. So its not for the sake of the folk that the centres are needed. It is for our sake, to inform us what we are missing in our isolated lives, to bring us in touch with those who share our times. In that regard, there is an enormous amount of material that needs to be gathered. We need to use the most up-to-date equipment to record it. It has to be stored in an environment such that it isnt lost as fast as it is gathered. It needs to be understood in so many different ways and it needs to be accessible, conveyed to those of us who are interested. All of this takes huge sums of money. The Ford Foundation has provided all this. My primary association with the centres has been through a series of workshops meant to enhance links between folklorists within India and between Indian folklorist and folklorists around the world. One of the most important aspects of those links, in my view, was communication and a mutual understanding of one another s methodologies and uses-primarily interpretative uses-of the material gathered in the centres. Our hope was to develop a cadre of younger folklorists who could establish these kinds of links. The actual results of the workshops may be seen in the works of those who had participated, and in the activities of the institutions such as NFSC (Muthukumaraswamy had participated in the

workshops), Fossils (most of its leading figures had participated) and the Centres themselves (most employ folklorists who had participated in these workshops). I think it can safely be said that the hoped for linkages have come about. I think there are further kinds of development which need to take place, though I dont know whether The Ford Foundation is still willing to provide its monetary support, but I am always willing to continue my interaction with Centres and the folklorists. Infact, I am in touch with many of them every time I come to India, we continue to communicate and share ideas. Of course the materials collected in folklore Centres may be of value to people of many different interests: artists, scholars, school children, the general public in urban as well as rural areas. All are welcome, as long as they use the material in ethical ways, respecting, acknowledging and protecting the property rights of those who created the art in the first place. NOTES
The following words are used without diacritical marks in the text: Siri Paddana (Siri Pddana); bhuta kolas (bhta klas); bhuta rituals (bhta rituals); bhuta cult (bhta cult); Billavakoti (Bllavakti); Chennaya Paddana (Chennaya Pddana); Koti Chennaya (Kti Chennaya); Paddanas (Pddanas); Siri Jatra (Siri Jtra); Katama Raju Katha (Ktama Raju Katha) Editor.

Announcement Indian Folklore Research Journal - Call for Papers - May 2002 (Closing Date: March 31, 2002)
Instructions for Authors: Please send articles (not more than 5000 words) in a double spaced (A4 size), single-sided typescript or Microsoft word 95. The articles should be original, unpublished and not submitted for publication elsewhere. The copyright in any form of the article shall rest with the publisher. References and footnotes should be included at the end of the file or typescript. Also it can be e-mailed to Associate Editor at venu@indianfolklore.org. Articles should confirm to the latest edition of MLA style manual. Line drawings or illustrations should be provided in camera-ready form. It could be either at 100% or 50%. For figures the maximum display area is 4.5x7.25. Submissions: IFRJ invites the submissions of articles on all aspects of folklife, including articles in English or works in other languages, offering multidisciplinary, historical and cultural approaches to folklife. Please send your copy script in accordance with the latest MLA style manual. Submissions are evaluated anonymously, the authors name and address should appear only on the cover sheet of the copy script. We also welcome submission of illustrations. Authors are responsible for obtaining copyright permission and send your submissions in three hard copies to Associate Editor, IFRJ. Copyright: In assigning copyright, authors may use their own material in other publications provided that the IFRJ is properly acknowledged as the original source of publication. Periodicity: IFRJ is published annually in May every year. Website: www.indianfolklore.org for viewing abstracts and full text of Indian Folklife, Newsletter. Resource reviews: Resources to be considered for review (print as well as audio visual) should be sent to Review Editor, IFRJ. Scholars wishing to review folklore resources should write to Review Editor, outlining their interests and competencies.
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S P O T L I G H T

Among the Varkaris: A journey to Pandharpur

Scharada Bail is currently working as an internet consultant and interested in cultural studies. E-mail: scharadabail@yahoo.com

India abounds in examples

where the collective tradition has evolved out of the fierce longing for one s personal, very own relationship with God. When Sri Jagannath of Puri is adorned and then carried on the shoulders of the millions who adore him, each one of the crowd is feeling a tangible love akin to what one may feel for more human ties, but far more intense and exalted. When millions of people walk for almost four weeks to reach their beloved Vithoba at Pandharpur every year, they are placing this annual pilgrimage above all their other mundane, domestic tasks. The Pandharpur yatra takes place in the month of July-August, the Hindu month of Ashaadh, in Maharashtra. It is an annual ritual in the lives of millions of peoplea month long journey on foot that begins at Alindi on the banks of the Indrayani river, and culminates on the Devshayani or Ashaadhi Ekadashi day at Pandharpur. Here the river Bhima has taken a turn which makes it appear like the crescent of the moon. It is therefore called the Chandrabhaga river. The famed Vitthal temple is in Pandharpur. There is another smaller yatra later in the year during Kartik, or November-December. But the Ashaadh one is the defining journey, the most significant characteristic of the Varkarisa Vaishnav sect which draws followers from the small rural farmers across Maharashtra. To be a Varkari is to be free of too many cumbersome rules and rituals. It is to merely love ones Vithoba with all one s heart, wear tulsi beads around one s neck because tulsi is dear to Him, and a spot of black powder on the forehead because Vithoba, like all forms of Vishnu or Krishna, is the Dark One. For a Varkari, liberation is meant to be through love, and love for Vithoba is to be realized as love for ones fellow humans, and creatures. The simplicity of this particular path to salvation is what has made the Pandharpur yatra such a powerful and

memorable journey for around 700 years. Varkaris refer to the poet saint Sant Jnaneshwar (12751296) as Mauli, an endearment which can refer to one s mother, and in this case, conceives of the saint as a spiritual parent, both mother and father. Infact, the sect grew out of the teachings of Jnaneshwar, who brought the Bhagawad Geeta out of the clutches of the priestly class and into the hearts of millions of peasants by rendering it into Marathi as the Jnaneshwari. Jnanadev, his siblings Nivruttinath, Sopan and Muktabai, Namdev, Eknath and Tukaram are among the saints who are venerated each year at the Yatra. Their songs, or abhangs are sung to the accompaniment of dhol, small brass manjiras, and veena. Their wooden padukas, or footwear encased in silver, are carried in palanquins the entire length of the journey from Alindi to Pandharpur. In Maharashtra, the towns and villages where important temples are situated are called Sri Kshetras. The route of the yatra is marked with concrete painted boards which greet the pilgrims, and inform all others that it is the Mahamarg on which the devout travel to their destination. The sheer scope of the yatra is awe-inspiring. It begins on the Ganesh Sankashta Chaturthi Day at Alindi. Jnanadev s padukas are carried from this spot, his birthplace. The other large group carrying Tukarams palkhi sets off from Dehu, and some 40 odd palkhis from other destinations also begin the journey, where they join the Mahamarg at different stages, to finally converge at Wakhri, 6 km. before Pandharpur. Here they set up their last camp, sing, dance, perform theatre, rejoice in having come this far, and reach Pandharpur the next day, to keep their tryst with their Lord. Sri Krishna as Vitthal came to live in Pandharpur, due to

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S P O T L I G H T

the request of Pundalik, many centuries ago. Pundalik was a delinquent youth, who had shown great disrespect towards his parents, even turning down their plea to help them in a journey to Kashi. However, he himself felt impelled to go to Kashi shortly thereafter, and losing his way close to the holy city, had to sleep the night in Sage Kukkuts ashram. It is said that here he saw how the three maidenly forms of the great rivers Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati came each night to refresh themselves by labouring in Kukkut s ashram. When he questioned them, they revealed that Kukkut was so pure a devotee, that merely working for him was enough to cleanse and refresh them, after their exhaustion at washing away the sins of the multitude at Prayag. And what was the secret of Kukkuts pure devotion? He had selflessly and lovingly served his parents. This was the eye-opener that Pundalik needed to abandon his neglectful ways and turn into such a devoted son, that one day, when Sri Krishna arrived to beckon him from outside his Pandharpur home, Pundalik did not rush out, as he was busy massaging his old parents tired feet. Instead he threw a brick outside, known as a veet in Marathi, and asked Krishna to stand on it and wait for him, till he finished his work. Thus Vitthal stands with arms akimbo, in the classic waiting position, the Bhaktavatsal, ready to wait forever for the love of his devotees. The Pundalik story has a theme underpinning it, that illustrates a fundamental facet of Indian culture when we serve one s parents, we are actually serving God.

of the journey, because this is all we have The big, beautifully curved and embossed silver handles of the Tukaram palkhi beckoned, and as soon as I had finished paying my few moments of homage to the saint, I was asked if I had eaten. Would I like dinner? The question came from an elderly man with twinkling eyes. Over a dinner of khichdi, potato and peas sabji, and large round rotis, he told me that he had been coming with the palkhi from Dehu for forty seven years, and before that, from Alindi for another twenty five. Forty seven years! I exclaimed. Im only forty! Well, Im in my eighties, said the man, indulgently. His smile was that of a man who is absolutely contentto be walking for a three-week period at eighty, without any sign of strain. I stretched under the stars on the ground, along with hundreds of others, wondering about the spirit that held the whole community together. Was this mortification, walking for weeks, sleeping in the open, enduring every discomfort for a demanding God? It seemed to me like a river of love and contentment, with every person in the throng attuned to the others around him or her. The lady already asleep next to me woke at 2 am and left to bathe for the final trek to Pandharpur. When she returned, she was ready to talk. She asked me to join her for the Yatra every year from Dehu, even pointing out her address from certain landmarks! She was warm and welcoming, and did not even feel the need to know my name. My clothes, accent, obvious social status, nothing held any importance for her only my desire for Vitthal s blessing. The rest of the night was enlivened by the performance of bharud, a form of folk theatre that showed Tukaram s struggles with his shrewish wife on this occasion. After the drama, and in between, there was abundant song the devotional abhangs of the saints. I walked into the watery rising sun of an Ashaadh morning towards Pandharpur with the others streaming around me, fortifying myself with the stunningly sweet amrit tulya chaha or nectar-like tea, sold at intervals. This heavily sugared brew is especially for the walkers who may be running low on blood sugar. For me, it was sheer indulgence! Pandharpur town was decked up for the great event, and crowds packed the temple where all the pilgrims would not be able to have darshan. But this does not discourage them. For this annual event is its own reward. The Lord lives among his people, and to have been a part of this journey, is to have recognised this. Other incentives are unnecesary. An endless procession of humanity, with the bright colours of sarees, turbans and pennants heightening its already colourful character, is the final, delightful sight of this unique event. As I stood on the appointed day at the gates of Pandharpur, seeing before me the river of arriving pilgrims stretching to the edge of the horizon, I felt the stirring deep inside that informs us we are close to our Source. It is at moments like this, when it seems obvious that the intelligence that guards over all of us, and goes by the name of God, is not on some distant galaxy, but here, very close at hand.

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When I joined the Yatra at the end of June, 2001, the Varkaris had already been walking for weeks, and had set up the last camp at Wakhri. I stumbled off a bus onto the highway near Wakhri at night, and for a few moments stood in a disoriented haze. Then I began walking towards distant lights, where others were already silhouetted before me. I reached a lantern lit expanse of tents where the smells of cooking, and the sounds of chorused bhajans revealed a nighttime routine that had become second nature for these thousands. Pilgrims walk in organised groups called dindis, with their leaders carrying saffron coloured pennants on tall sticks. Many have the brass manjira in their hands that helps them to keep time with the abhangs which the whole group is singing. Women sometimes carry little square brass pots holding tulsi on their heads. The more mundane necessities for the pilgrims, like food, clothes, and tents, are carried alongside in trucks which can go ahead and pitch camp for the night, at each respective stop. The yatris are sustained by an enduring community culture. Families in villages and towns along the Mahamarg have traditionally fed and hosted the pilgrims. In addition, a Palkhi Mahasangh administers the important issues around the Yatra. The dates, various stops, timings of special poojas are printed on leaflets and available to all who care to join the Yatra. I was joining at a very late stage, but I comforted myself with the thought that I was coming from distant Chennai. As I walked towards where the Tukaram palkhi was parked, I stopped to listen to some of the discourses and songs being sung by the campers. An elderly yatri with the elaborate silk turban of a leader was addressing his fellow men and women. It is not enough to merely be here on this occasion. One has to express ananda. The saints want us to dance and rejoice, to love every moment

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H A P P E N I N G S

Embroidery: The Universal Thread

Sabita Radhakrishna is a freelance writer, broadcaster and Vice Chairperson of Crafts Council of India based in Chennai. E-mail: sabita@vsnl.com

The pastoral tribes of India and many parts

of South and South East Asia have for long been rich storehouses of art and craft. Many of these tribes are famed for their needlework, especially embroidery. Passed on from mother to daughter, embroidery is an important part of the repertoire of the tribe s skills. But sadly, this is a legacy that is showing signs of decay in the present day, mainly because of lack of awareness among the general public. To raise awareness about the art of embroidery practised by several tribes, the Crafts Council of India in collaboration with the Crafts Council of Andhra Pradesh and the Asian Secretariat of the World Craft Council organised an international embroidery seminar in Andhra Pradesh. Held at the National Institute of Fashion Technology, Madhapur, Hyderabad, in early 2001, the seminar was planned to create awareness of the kind of embroidery that was existent in India and the 13 participating countries. It was also intended to give young designers an added dimension to their work and study of textiles and design. Most of the speakers were designers from NGOs who worked with the tribes and helped them with their work. Spectacular examples of this work were presented on colour slides that served to illustrate many of the lectures. More important, the spirited discussions between speakers brought into focus the numerous problems faced by the needle-craftspeople and attempted some solutions. The weeklong seminar was spread over eight sessions, covering historical perspectives, regional expressions, pastoral and nomadic traditions, South East Asian embroideriestradition and change, and the influence of market places. There were joint sessions with the embroidery workshop, as well as a bazaar that displayed and sold embroidered saris, shawls, pouch bags and table linen. The craftspeople, most of them women, also had a session where they interacted with each other and discussed their strengths and weaknesses with the help of moderators who spoke their language. Among the papers presented was one by Judy Frater, who discussed Rabari embroidery as a reflection of the tribe s adaptation to the environment. The paper, Rabari Embroidery: Chronicle of Tradition and Identity in a Changing World, described how Kala Raksha, an organisation set up by Frater, guided the craftspeople to view embroidery through contemporary idiom. During the devastating earthquake of January 2001, Frater geared up her organisation and arranged for many exhibitions and sales which took the tribe through a dark period. The seminar also discussed the applique and mirror work of the Banjaras, a pastoral tribe of Andhra Pradesh. The

state Crafts Council had identified this needlework as a project that could help alleviate the poor socio-economic condition of the Banjaras. Yellama Thanda, a Banjara village near Hyderabad, was chosen as the model village, and the women of this village were trained by the crafts council to hone their skills for a demanding market. Viji Srinivasan, the woman behind Aditi, encouraged women to describe their thoughts and fantasies through quilts which they embroider beautifully and it is the inventiveness of these sujni quilts that make them outstanding. Dinh Thu Huong, a textile designer from Hong Kong, described her group Craft Link as a centre that helped craftspeople to adapt designs to suit the contemporary market, if only to prolong the life of the craft. Eric Ong, president of the Artelier Sarawak society, spoke of the beadwork that played an important role in the cultural history of the peoples of Sarawak in Borneo. Beads were worn not only for ornamentation, but also as talismans and status symbols. Apart from glass beads, cowrie shells, bear claws, leopard teeth, shell discs, mirrors and brass bells are used. Today, moving with the times, these beads have become part of evening wear accessories! Indrasen Vencatachellum, Chief of Craft and Design at UNESCO, chairing the wrap-up session, said crafts should be considered a part of the national cultural heritage and that due honour should be accorded to the makers of the crafts. The UNESCO Craft Awards for 2001 were also presented during this seminar. There were 51 entries from 12 countries, and the entries were judged on the basis of technical proficiency and creativity in the context of tradition and design innovation. The first prize of $2,500 went to Basheer Ahmed Jaan of India for his embroidered shawl and Kaim Tae Ja of Korea for her embroidered panel screen. The second prize of $1,500 went to Jasiben Meriya of India (Kutchi wall panel) and a group of eight Banjara craftspeople (Banjara wall panel). Sufia Begum of Bangladesh (kantha bedcover) and Hatice Muskaya of Turkey (hand towel) shared the honours for the third prize of $1,000. All six entries were sent to Unesco in Paris to be part of a permanent exhibition. This was not only a pat on the back for CCI, it should help keep the tradition of embroidery alive.

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NFSC FOLK FESTIVAL, MARCH 2002: ORAL

NARRATIVES, FOLK PAINTINGS, CALENDAR OF EVENTS

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

AND

PUPPETRY

OF

INDIA -

Time: All performances starts daily at 6.00 pm Venue: Government Museum premises, Egmore
Date March 4 March 4 March 4 March 5 March 5 March 5 March 6 March 6 March 6 March 7 March 7 March 7 March 8 March 8 March 8 March 9 March 9 March 9 March 10 March 10 March 10 March 11 March 11 March 11 March 12 March 12 March 12 March 13 March 13 March 13 Phad Therukkoothu Khamba Thoibi Phad Therukkoothu Khamba Thoibi Chitrakathi Tamasha Phad Chitrakathi Tamasha Child Artists - Langas and Manganiars Pata Yakshagana Ponung Pata Yakshagana Ponung Padam Katha Mayurbhanj Chhau Villuppattu Padam Katha Mayurbhanj Chhau Villuppattu Chavittunatakam Chindu Yakshagana Chandaini Chindu Yakshagana Chavittunatakam Chandaini Event / Art form Pabuji Kandavavana Thakanam Khamba and Thoibi Pabuji Bageeratha Prayathanam Khamba and Thoibi Aranya Kand Marathi Tales Pabuji Aranya Kand Marathi Tales Folk Songs Sabitri and Satyaban, Chandi Mangal Lava - Kusha Abangs Manasa Mangal Pandavaswamedha Abangs Rupavathi Kalyanam Chakrabiyuha Muthupattan Kathai Rupavathi Kalyanam Tamudia Krishna Pulithevan Kathai Karlman Natakam Keechaka Vadham Chandaini Keechaka Vadham Karlman Natakam Chandaini FT = Folk Theatre; MT = Museum Theatre; Story of Venue CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT CEH OAT MT OAT CEH MT CEH OAT MT From Rajasthan Tamil Nadu Manipur Rajasthan Tamil Nadu Manipur Maharashtra Maharashtra Rajasthan Maharashtra Maharashtra Rajasthan West Bengal Karnataka Arunachal Pradesh West Bengal Karnataka Arunachal Pradesh Andhra Pradesh Orissa Tamil Nadu Andhra Pradesh Orissa Tamil Nadu Kerala Andhra Pradesh Chattisgarh Andhar Pradesh Kerala Chattisgarh Genre SPN FT ESD SPN FT ESD SPN FT SPN SPN FT ESD SPN FT ESD SPN FT ESD SPN FT ESD SPN FT ESD FT FT ESD FT FT ESD Guest of honour Jayakanthan Na. Muthuswamy S. Vaitheeswaran La. Sa. Ramamirtham Prabanjan Asokamitran S. Ramakrishnan S. Dharman Thilakavathi

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H A P P E N I N G S

Vannanilavan Poomani Anand Dilip Kumar Konangi Gnanakoothan Gopikrishnan Gnana Rajasekaran Bama Yooma Vasuki Charu Nivedita Pa. Jayaprakasam Indira Parthasarathy Jeyamohan Imayam Jayanthan A. Rajamarthandan S. Albert Sa. Kandasamy Inqulab Vallikkannan

Keys used (Genre) : Keys used (Venues) :

SPN = Scroll Painting and Narrative; CEH = Centenary Exhibition Hall;

ESD = Epic Singing and Dancing OAT = Open Air Theatre

EXHIBITION CUM SALE OF FOLK PAINTINGS OF INDIA *

Date March 4 - 13 Time 11.00 am 5.30 pm Guided Tour 3.00 pm All Days Artist at work 11.00 am 5.30 pm All days (Except Thanjavur Artist) Art Form Thanjavur (Tamil Nadu) Madhubani (Bihar) Kalamkari (Andhra Pradesh) Pattachitra (Orissa) Gallerys Name Manasthala Foundation and Amethyst Meet the Artists At Manasthala Foundation: March 5 at 11.00 am, Guest of honour: Dakshinamurthy Artists : Lakshmi Krishnamurthy (Thanjavur), Kiran Devi (Madhubani), Narasimhalu (Kalamkari), Ramachandra Moharana (Pattachitra) At Amethyst: March 6, 11.00 am, Guests of honour: Alphonsa and T.R.P. Mookaiah Artists: Lakshmi Krishnamurthy (Thanjavur), C. Subramanyan (Kalamkari), Phoolmaya Devi (Madhubani), Shanti Devi (Madhubani), Rabindranatha Sahoo (Pattachitra) Artworld Alliance Francaise De Chennai At Artworld: March 9, 11.00 am, Guest of honour - R.B. Baskaran. Reena Santhya Umbersada (Warli), Belgur Mandavi (Bastar), Kochar Bhai (Pithora)

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March 4 - 13

11.00 am 5.30 pm Guided Tour 3.00 pm All Days Artist at work 11.00 am 5.30 pm

Warli (Maharashtra) Bastar (Chathisgarh) Pithora (Gujarat) Pata (West Bengal) Phad (Rajasthan) Kishangarh Miniature (Rajasthan)

H A P P E N I N G S

At Alliance Francaise De Chennai March 8, 11.00 am, Guest of honour M. Natesh Artists : Kusum Shyam Kharpade (Warli), Mansing Dhanji (Pithora) Vinyasa Little India At Vinyasa: March 11, 11.00 am Guests of honour: Athimoolam and T. Perumal Artists: Pulin Chitrakar (Pata), Sree Lal Joshi (Phad), Banwari Lal Joshi (Kishangarh), At Little India: March 12, 11.00 am, Guest of honour Chandru Artists: Nanigopal Chitrakar (Pata), Kalyan Joshi (Phad), Prem Das(Kishngarh)

March 4 - 13

11.00 am 3.30 pm Guided Tour 3.00 pm All Days Artist at work 11.00 am 5.30 pm

* Select paintings of all forms mentioned above will be exhibited at Contemporary Art Gallery, Government Museum, Egmore from March 4-13, 10.00 am 5.00 pm Curator: Lakshmi Krishnamurthy, Programme Co-ordinators (Meet the Artists): Shihan Hussaini and Balaji Srinivasan
EXHIBITION OF PHOTOGRAPHS
Date March 4 - 13 Time 10.00 am - 5.00 pm Venue Contemporary Art Gallery, Government Museum Curator R.V. Ramani Team members S. Anvar, Ranjan De, C.P. Satyajit, Vinayagamani, Moji Riba, Sanjoo Guest of honour Inauguration of Photography, Folk Paintings and Musical Instruments exhibitions by Barry Gabberman, Senior Vice - President, The Ford Foundation, New York on March 6 at 11.45 am

EXHIBITION OF MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

Date March 4 - 13 Time 10.00 am - 5.00 pm Venue Contempory Art Gallery, Government Museum Curator Karaikudi Subramanian Brhaddhvani

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I N N O VAT I O N S

Surabhi: The limitless earthen vessel

Siddharth Kak is producer and presenter of Surabhi and based in Mumbai. E-mail: cvi@indiasurabhi.com This vessel contains all of nature Within it lies all Creation. This vessel brims with the Seven Seas Within it lie the infinite Galaxies. This vessel contains priceless Treasures Within it resides the Supreme Evaluator. This vessel resounds with Cosmic Sound Within it flows the Fountain of Life. Says Kabir, Listen all you Faithful Within this vessel dwells the Creator! Saint Kabir It showed the various facets of the individualsome glossy, some rustic, some coloured, some monotoned, some antique, some new. It was the first programme to reach out to people on equal terms, to ask them questions and elicit answers that would reflect in the show, something taken for granted in today s programmes. This rich content and viewer-friendly format were both integral to Surabhi s appeal. But the real challenge was in giving importance to the supposedly less classy, less popular and less star-valued subjects to retain its essence and reality, while still catering to popular taste. In a sense, sometimes the folk and the rural were romanticised using slow motion shots, lighting effects and mood music; but this did not make the subject kitschy. Instead, it appealed to an audience that was not prepared, informed or initiated to appreciate it. To that extent, Surabhi was a course in cultural appreciation for the masses. It presented to India the lives of its peoples and how art was a reflection of those lives. Thanks to Surabhi, art and culture were no longer the domain of the elite. The common man was introduced to artists and craftspeople from all over the country, from Jangarh Singh Shyam, a tribal artist from Madhya Pradesh to a modernist like M.F. Hussain. The subjects chosen were eclecticthe BMX stunt cyclists of urban Maharashtra, the coconut tree climbers of Kerala, the architecture of the Hampi temples, Laurie Bakers work, the carvings on the Taj Mahal, the decorated walls of the traditional Bungas in Gujarat, the Ramlila of North India, innovative contemporary plays, the lost process of metal casting practised by Sri Karunanidhi Sthapathy in Tamil Nadu and by folk craftsman Jaydev Bhagel in Bastar (M.P.). Change and innovation, tradition and modernity, folk and classical, all were represented and treated with zeal and passion. A passion that was derived from the art and artistes themselves. Surabhi aimed to salute this passion, seek it even in the oft-ignored and highlight it as a thread that binds lives, communities, cultures and nations. Surabhi provided a platform for lesser-known artists like Abdul Majeed Ansari (a Surahi maker who makes exquisite clay-ware by pasting together delicate strips of clay), or for local art forms like that of Karagiri pottery in Vellore, Tamil N a d u . Ye t , i n e s s e n c e , t h e
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This verse by the famous Saint Kabir

has often been quoted in Surabhi brochures and episodes. It presents succinctly in poetry what the programme strove to present using mass mediaa slice of the rich plurality that India has nurtured. `Surabhi denotes fragrancethe fragrance of clay, the fragrance of a child and mother, an accumulation of a wider fragrance. Surabhi began in the early 1990s when the documentary format had a negative perception among television audiences in India, who equated it with Government propaganda. Surabhi stormed Indian television with its interactivity and content, interactivity that reached out to its audience as well as those who were presented through this cultural showcase. The content brought to the people a glimpse of their own life and livingtheir own culture; the vessel that is part of us and within which we grow.

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Karigari potter brothers at work

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Abdul Majeed Ansari making strips of clay for creating his pots

programme was a platform for its audience; they participated to extend their understanding of living culture, they presented their views and suggestions and ideas. It was a two-way process where they learnt about other cultures within the country and even abroad and got insights into their own ways of life. The two-fold learning included the interaction of the Surabhi team with those being filmed. A new dimension was added to their understanding of culture. Infact, the broad definition of culture that Surabhi now boasts of imbibing and propagating is one grown out of their experiences in the hinterlands of India. What was presented to the audiences was rich with the understanding gained through that interaction. Surabhi thus evoked a new understanding of the aspirations of the people of India and touched a deep chord of cultural connectivity. It gave people a sense of pride in their culturea pride that had been battered by centuries of colonisation, followed by years of liberalisation. The audience was heartened by the sense of confidence they received; there was an overwhelming sense of reassurance that we were culturally equal to the rest of the world. Whats more, Surabhi demystified classical culture and elevated popular culture. It showed that classical music was not superior to folk

music but a continuum. It offered two planes of expression at the same level. It pioneered a new form of interactive communication to go beyond a television show to become a symbol of national identity. When Surabhi first went on air on national television, the channel with the greatest outreach at that time, it was different from other programmes. It spoke with and not down to the people; it created a niche for itself, reaching out to both the urban and the rural audiences. Today, with so many private channels, dishing out popular entertainment to mainly urban masses, the rural majority is ignored. This is a new challenge for Surabhi; to find a new format and deal with the paradox of bridging the urban-rural gap and forming an urbanrural interface in its new avatar`New Surabhi on the Star Plus channel every Sunday morning.*
* I would like to thank Rahela Padachira, who provided the research and background information for this article

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Adivasi music and the public stage

Jayasri Banerjee is an independent researcher and is working on folk and tribal performance genres of the Jungle Mahal. E-mail: jayasribanerjee@rediffmail.com

These days, no festival or utsav is considered complete

without some sort of folk music or dance. The idea of presenting the music and dance traditions of the Adivasis in a public forum is generally well-meaningto create general awareness among the urban/rural public about Adivasi lives and to generate a sustainable development of Adivasi art forms. Unfortunately, these good intentions are far removed from reality, as I found in the course of a two-year study I conducted in the Burdwan and Birbhum districts of West Bengal.1 This article examines the impact of public presentations of Adivasi (in this case Santal) music and dance upon the distinctive traits of such traditions. Public presentation here refers to the presentation of the music and dance traditions of the Adivasi communities outside their everyday lives and natural performance contexts; that is, outside the context of their parav (festivals), rites and rituals. Presenting music and dance outside community contexts radically changes the norms and inner dynamics of their performance. It is by now common knowledge that Adivasi artistic-creative traditions have been organically interwoven into a total way of life, which has, over generations, been developed on the basis of an eco-centric world view that considers the human world and nature as parts of the same continuum. Such traditions, whether wall/floor decorations, iconography, fine and/or performing arts, are deeply related to one another, and all of them are related to the everyday Adivasi way of life. This means the displacement of one formsay music and dance from its everyday association with others seriously disturbs the very physical location of their culture. Of course, change in location is inevitable with changing times. But the popularity of Indian classical music, another of our oral-aural musical traditions, clearly shows that relocation need not destroy a tradition completely, provided its core competence and characteristics are not interfered with. The political exigencies of nineteenth century India needed the investiture of our raga sangeet with the epithet classical, which insulated it against mindless intervention. But marginal music of people such as the Adivasis of Jungle Mahal, has not enjoyed the same status. So, this music is victim of the dominant culture, including the state, which seeks to civilise by imposing regimented change 2 on these traditions. Such regimented change occurs in the core area of Adivasi musical tradition in the process of negotiation with urban/semi-urban audiences. The major change is in the perception of audience. In Adivasi culture, there is no distinction between performer and audiencethe entire community takes part in the music and dance. This distinction is created in public presentations, and seriously disturbs the very ethos of Adivasi culture. By

imposing alien ideas of excellence, it willy-nilly transforms part of the community into a passive audience. What s worse is that public performances interfere with the traditional spatial arrangements of the performers. In their traditional group dances, the Adivasi women dance in a semi-circle holding each others hand or waist, and the men face the dancers while playing their musical instruments. But in most public presentations, instead of facing the musicians in a performative dialogue, as is customary, they face the audience; the women stand in a row (or two) in front of microphones on the stage. The instrument players stand in the wings and are relegated to providing background to the dancers. Possibly the greatest damage has been done to performer and performance alike by confused experiments with Adivasi music. The result of blundering experimentation with instruments has resulted in the use of musical instruments entirely unsuited to Adivasi music harmoniums and synthesisers are predominant, with the madal being used very rarely. Using keyboards restricts the musical notes to standard frequencies or pitch points, totally destroying the finer nuances of intonation patterns and displacing musical notes from their original positions in the Adivasi musical scale. Using a harmonium or similar instrument also means that the musical movement is a sharp jump from one note to another, instead of the distinctive gradual undulation or traversal across the finer intervals between two notes. This also inscribes musical elaboration onto the keyboard, and, in a way, externalises musical notes and distances this specific knowledge from the knower. 3 One other issue I have with the public presentation of Adivasi art forms concerns the use of such musical traditions as medium to spread developmental messages. For instance, during the initial environment building phase of the Total Literacy Programme, Adivasi musical forms and melodies were indiscriminately used to popularise educational programmes. In the course of my study, I found a large corpus of songs on literacy and family planning, which were first written in Bengali and then grafted on to Adivasi, mainly Santal, melodic and metrical moulds of different musical genres. This distorts the formal structure of different genres of Santal songs, since melody and language are integrally related in Santal music. Multiple song texts are seen to be set in limited, genre-specific melodic moulds. Since, in Santali tradition, tune/melody provides structural values to its text 4 , the imposition of Bengali linguistic tendencies is deeply disturbing. This not only changes the formal structure of Santal music, singing and dance, it affects the instrumental accompaniment, which closely follows the melodic and metric moulds of the Santal songs. Whatever may be the reasons underlying such publicisation and re-presentation of Adivasi art forms, it is possible to identify certain trends resulting from

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them, which must be negotiated as soon as possible. Public presentations of Adivasi music and dance traditions are gradually changing them into context-free art forms. This process, I think, began when the Adivasi performing arts in general, and Adivasi musical traditions in particular, started being used for instrumentalist and functionalist purposes. The problem is compounded by the reluctance of urban audiences to negotiate aesthetics that are different from what they are used to. The result is that Adivasi musical traditions are not appreciated on their own terms; they are either made to echo popular film music or they are preserved as quaint elements of times past. At the same time, this process has led to the Adivasis professionalising their art forms. Now, Adivasis are

NOTES
1. The project, Adivasi Musical Instruments of Jungle MahalStudy of a Tradition in Transition [1998-2000] was funded by Bangalores India Foundation for the Arts, Sangeet Natak Akademi, New Delhi, sanctioned a supporting grant for related documentation. The target area of this project was the forest region [called Jungle Mahal] in four administrative blocs of two districts Burdwan and Birbhumin West Bengal. Though reference has been made to this geographical specificity, one can safely say that the general scenario of Adivasi artistic-creative culture in our country in general does not present a very different picture. 2. Jain, Jyotindra, 1993, Commercialising Tribal Art in Seminar, No 412, December, Pp 43-44. I use the term

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negotiating public presentations in order to dictate fees and organise regular earnings. A few of them are even daring urban audiences to appreciate their specific aesthetics rather than adjusting to the dominant taste. This emerging professionalism could be the only hope for this musical culture. It is high time the public accepts the fact that the Adivasi way of life and culture has changed radically. As things stand, romanticising the Adivasis pure, holistic, eco-centric way of life will only lead to treating this entire culture as museum pieces. To conserve Adivasi music and dance traditions as living traditions, it is time we treated these as context-free art forms and welcome professionalism in these traditions. It is even likely that the Adivasi musical tradition, like classical music today, will be able to save itself by setting its own terms and dictating its own aesthetic norms.

regimented change in music to mean artificially grafted change from above by ignoring the inner logic of a musical tradition merely for catering urban middle class taste and market. 3. The use of harmoniums in classical music has been a highly contested issue historically. The debate has not even been initiated in case of Adivasi music. 4. Prasad, Omkar,1993, Text-Tune and Tone-Tune Relations in Santal Music : Some Preliminary Observations in Bonnie C Wade (Ed) Text, Tone And Tune : Parameters of Music in Multicultural Perspective, Oxford & IBH Publishing Co Pvt. Ltd., New Delhi, pp. 235 241

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Public folklore: Pursuing cultural democracy in the 21st century

Richard Kurin is Director, Smithsonian Centre for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, America. He is a cultural anthropologist and the author of Reflections of a Culture Broker: A View from the Smithsonian and Smithsonian Folklife Festival: Culture Of, By, and For the People. E-mail: Drkurin@aol.com

Where is public folklore heading in the 21

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century? Much of what has become public or public sector folklore in the United States grows out of the experience of the Smithsonian Institutions folklife program founded in 1967 and now known as the Centre for Folklife and Cultural Heritage. Examination of that program is revealing of where public folklore has been, and where it might be heading. While the Smithsonian program has exhibited a continuity of basic values and philosophy, it has also changed over time. In general terms, its origins are found in an appreciation for and desire to properly recognise particular folk traditionslargely performative and decorative. As the program has matured, activities for the representation and presentation of those traditions have expanded and became increasingly institutionalised. The future seems to point in the direction of considering a wider scope of cultural production than typically engaged by folklorists, advancing theoretical and analytic work through the examination of practice, seeing folk traditions at the intersections of contemporary political, economic, and artistic life, co-operating with increasingly varied congeries of civic and community partners, diversifying fiscal sources for support of institutional work, and developing more strategic means to help diverse cultural communities to persevere and even flourish in an age of globalisation. Origins The Smithsonian program was spearheaded by Ralph Rinzler who put together a new, broad coalition of diverse cultural workers, scholars, politicians, and institutions in the most dramatic of ways to coalesce a field of practice. In 1967 he developed the Festival of American Folklife, now renamed the Smithsonian Folklife Festival, in the heart of the U.S. capital, on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. Drawing about one million visitors annually and extraordinary media attention, this massive exposition of musical performances, crafts and cooking demonstrations, workshops and celebrations presented by traditional performers and aided by scholars proved instrumental in the public appreciation of folk culture, and its official recognition. It led to the creation of programs in a variety of national and state institutions, as well as local and private organisations. It encouraged cultural practitioners in various communities and has provided a common experience for two generations of folklorists, ethnomusicologists, and others, from around the United States and indeed, from around the world, to hone their skills and ideas of public cultural representation. Rinzler was motivated by an ideal of cultural democracy drawn from such teachers as Woody Guthrie, Charles Seeger, and Alan Lomax and incubated through the folk music revival and the Civil Rights movement. Guthries songs like This Land is Your Land expressed an American populist and participatory democracy. Seeger, the founder of ethnomusicology and a public

documentarian, found in Americas communities a diversity of cultural treasures embodying wisdom, artistry, history, and knowledge that could not be delegitimated because of considerations of wealth and power. Lomax saw the growing problem of cultural gray outthe worldwide spread of a homogenised, commercial, mass culture at the expense of most local and regional cultures. Rinzler saw the problem of cultural disenfranchisement, as people lost touch with and power and control over their own cultural products. He saw that in rural Appalachia and in Cajun Louisiana the spirited performances by old-timers of superb musical skill were under-appreciated by their descendants. Ironically, with the folk music revival these same music achieved popularity among youth in New York and other cities. He saw the strength of cultural enfranchisement in the powerful role music played in the Civil Rights movement, where it mobilised people in community churches, on picket lines, and in the streets for a great, moral battle. For Rinzler, the grassroots creation and continuity of culture in contemporary society was a building block of democracy. The democratic force of culture was raised to a new level on the National Mall when the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., led the March on Washington in 1963. In the 1960s, while serving as research director for the Newport Folk Festival and carrying out his own fieldwork, Rinzler drew these strands together and created a plan. For Rinzler cultural work was empathetic, studied, advocacy for the traditions of varied communities. Though invited to the Smithsonian Institution, the national museum of the United States, to design the content for a folklife festival as a popular attraction on the National Mall, Rinzler envisioned a project of cultural conservation and recovery, through which, with the efforts of people like action-anthropologist Sol Tax and the leadership of then-Secretary S. Dillon Ripley, endangered cultures and traditions could be revitalised and the larger society educated. The Festival was inserted into the national museum with all the challenges and opportunities it entailed. Rinzler enlisted folklorists Roger Abrahams, Henry Glassie, Kenny Goldstein, Archie Green, and Bess Lomax Hawes, key African American and American Indian cultural workers like Bernice Johnson Reagon, Gerald Davis, Clydia Nahwooksy, and Lucille Dawson, and a variety of those specializing in a variety of ethnic and regional cultures like Ethel Raim, Martin Koening, and Mike Seeger to plan Festival programs and thus bring into the nations cultural life a range of perspectives and aesthetics truly reflective of the people. Rinzler worked with Nancy Sweezy and economist John Kenneth Galbraith to revive Southern pottery and crafts operations and aid cultural and economic development in the region, in part by getting their goods into the museum shops. Sales generated income and regenerated American cultural traditions. The 1976 Smithsonian s Folklife Festivallasting for three

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months and including over 5,000 artists from all over the United States and from 35 nationswas a centrepiece of the American Bicentennial celebrations. The Festival provided a redefinition of Americas cultural heritage in the face of European nationalist and American elitist models. American culture has its multiple levels and interpenetrating sectorsnational, regional, local, ethnic, religious, occupational, folk, popular, elite, communitybased, commercial, institutional, and official. Most importantly, American culture could be seen as diverse, vital, and continually creative, situated in a larger economy, a larger society, indeed, a larger world of technological and social transformations. Rather than recreate an older world of utilitarian crafts or purge music of electronic media, or reconstitute the nation or world into villages the Festivals message was to move the contemporary world towards more culturally democratic institutions. Older aesthetic traditions, forms and systems of knowledge, values, and social relationships did not have to inevitably fade away, but rather could be used by people to design and build their own futures. The village might get bigger; the forms of communication more wideranging, the systems of exchange more complex, but skill, knowledge and artistry based in human communities could still remain and prosper. If voices that could contribute to cultural democracy became silent, everyone would lose. Persisting Programs and Ideals The Centre continues to produce the Smithsonian Folklife Festival which to date has had more than 35 million visitors over the years, involved more than 25,000 artists and musicians from the United States and some 76 nations, relied on the efforts of more than 1,000 folklorists and other scholars, generated more than 20,000 media stories, numerous policies, laws, and spin-off organisations, events ranging from local and state folklife festivals to Olympic arts and presidential inaugural festivals, an archival collection of photographic images and recordings, and a healthy number of scholarly papers, articles, and books. The Centre also publishes Smithsonian Folkways recordings include an incredible range of American and other folk musics and verbal arts. To date, some 300 new recordings have been produced over the past decade, joining more than 2,000 other recordings published by the historic Folkways Records and other labels acquired by the Centre. Millions of recordings are in print in a cultural conservation project that supports research and documentation, collections acquisition, archival preservation, and broad distribution. Recordings are used in a variety of ways, in schools, for example, to teach history, or by American Indians to maintain their heritage, or by Indonesians to understand the diversity of their island nation. Recordings have generated millions of dollars in royalties that return to musicians. The Centre also produces museum and travelling exhibits, documentary films and videos for television and lecture halls, symposia, educational materials, and several websites, all encouraging people to take an active role in accurately and respectfully studying, understanding, and representing their own cultures, and those of their neighbours. The Centre s archival collection, developed through the Festival, Folkways, and other projects, is a resource annually used by scores of fellows, researchers, and educators. The Centre advises a variety of multinational and national government agencies, service groups, and community organisations on folklife and cultural heritage theory and practice. The Centres involvement is of broad scope. In 2001, the Centre worked with almost 300 community cultural groups in the United

States and abroad. These included local artisan cooperatives, organised groups of elementary school teachers, and a variety of cultural advocacy organisations. The Centre enlists a host of people from a variety of sectorsthe arts, government, entertainment, and academiato help with its projects. Such have included Hilary Clinton, the Dalai Lama, Yo-Yo Ma, B. B. King, Bob Dylan, Mickey Hart, Pete Seeger, John Hope Franklin, and many, many others. The Centre for Folklife and Cultural Heritage has about 45 permanent staff, including 15 Ph.D.-level scholars and curators, and a complement of production support and technical staff. They are annually joined by some 30-40 temporary staff, 75 interns, 10 fellows, and more than 500 volunteers. The Centre s programs are strengthened by distinguished advisory groups. Collaborators with the Centre in any one year include more than 1,000 traditional culture practitioners, 100 lay and academic scholars in a wide variety of disciplines, as well as numerous cultural heritage and advocacy groups, and scores of governmental, cultural and educational organisations, foundations, corporations, and small businesses. The Centre s annual budget is roughly $14 million, with about $1.8 million from the U.S. Congress, about $1.2 million from the Smithsonian, approximately $5 million generated by gross sales revenues through recordings and Festival concessions, and about $6 million in grants, gifts, contracts, and in-kind support for Festival programs, educational, research, and archival projects. The Centre s philosophy continues to encourage cultural democracyso that people can access their own culture, represent themselves, develop their own cultural heritage, and benefit from their efforts. The Centre works as a partner, joining high-quality scholarship with strong community engagement and an active, entrepreneurial spirit. This has led to activities that have affected policies and practices at local, national, and international levels. Programmes and products have earned community respect around the world, serious scholarly review, popular acclaim, broad media attention, and professional recognition in forms such as Academy, Emmy, and Grammy Awards. The Future The Centre recognises that cultural democracy is threatened in todays world on a variety of fronts ecological, political, and socio-economic. The environmental degradation of ecosystems destroys the infrastructure supporting many traditional peoples and cultures. Displacement, famine, lack of economic viability drastically changes ways of life. People die and cultures with them. In other cases, local, regional, ethnic, and other forms of culture are suppressed by state authorities. Despite major gains in democratic and human rights achieved in the last part of the 20th century, much of the world still lives under authoritarian and repressive national governments. Those governments often seek to limit or destroy cultural diversity within their borders. Globalisation in the form of the unprecedented worldwide spread of mass commercial cultural products, forms, and sensibilities also threatens local cultures. Many see their own ways of national, regional, or local life threatened economically, socially, aesthetically, and even morally, by the availability, popularity, and packaging of global mass culture. They also witness the appropriation of their own commodifiable traditions by outsiders without adequate compensation or benefit to the home community.

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The Centre recognises its limitations with regard to influencing ecological systems, the rule of nations, and the forces of the world economy. But it does seek to work with a numerous and broad range of cultural organisations and communities to affect conditions, circumstances, and consequences in ways that do justice to diverse human culturesso that they may persevere and flourish. How best to do this is always a subject of discussion and debate. Despite the grave challenges, there are positive signs for cultural democracy on the horizon. There is an increasing institutional consciousness that healthy ecosystems are necessary for economically viable communities. International and local policies increasingly recognise possessing culture and practising traditions as legal human rights. Many governments, faced with the prospect of representing multicultural nations, are increasingly searching for peaceful means of social engagement. And while cultural production is increasingly managed in the corporate business sector, the marketplace is becoming democratised with the entry of cultural enterprises initiated and controlled by members of culture-producing communities. We are proud to be engaged in the work of cultural democracy, in which we find many allies, friends, and collaborators. We are encouraged by civil society groups who have connected cultural advocacy to political democratisation and economic opportunity. We are hopeful that academic initiatives that address cultural policy issues from a research-based perspective can bring new vigour to ways of studying cultural communities, examining public policies, and figuring out how cultural resources may be preserved and best utilised for broad benefit. We are heartened to see that organisations in the culture industry and the legal profession are wrestling with questions of who owns culture and benefits from its products. These debates over copyright and cultural ownership are a healthy development and can provide a basis for fair national legislation and international accords. Economic approaches to cultural democracy also abound. Small non-profit organisations are trying to appropriate contemporary global technologiesthe World Wide Web and networks of markets and communicationsfor local benefit and with local involvement. Other, larger multilateral organisations are developing globally linked programs for utilising local-level cultural industries to stimulate economic and political development. The desire for a diversity of flourishing local cultures exists not only at the institutional level, but also at the personal. A number of individual artists, scholars, advocates, philanthropists and others are strongly committed to the fullest range of human cultural achievement. The realisation of that goal would maximise not only humanitys chances of future survival but also the quality of life we might hope to enjoy. What then are we likely to see more of in the public folklore practice of the future? We will see a tendency for particular cultural communitieswhether they are of a locality or ethnicity, or of a religious or occupational groupto increasingly assert control over their own cultural futures. This means more training for local, native, or indigenous folklorists, and more scrutiny of the values, orientation, expertise and work product of outsiders. Since issues of culture and traditions will become increasingly tied to questions of political and legal rights, folklorists will need better training and more experience in those realms dealing with conventions, laws, and intellectual property rights. This will extend into the economic realm as community members seek fiscal gain from their cultural

productswhether they are songs, handicrafts, local herbal cures, or whole regions visited by tourists. Folklorists need to be trained in cultural economics, and well-versed in different ways of modelling, enabling, and analysing sustainable cultural enterprises. The range of what is included under the purview of local culture is likely to expand. Expertise in music, crafts, and tales needs to expand to areas of local ecology, medical care, architecture, and a tremendous variety of occupational skills and knowledge systems. Folklorists themselves will have to become more skilled at representing the folk. They will need to enhance their own brokering skills, as well as work on ways of transferring folk cultural practices and expressions in digital media to broad audiences. Folklorists will have to work with the educational establishment in a much stronger way than heretofore to ensure the transmission of knowledge to the younger generation. Folklorists, if they are to play a role, will have to gain expertise dealing with radio, television, Internet site and other producers; they will have to deal in increasingly common and complex ways with commercial purveyors of cultureHollywood and Bollywood, theme park operators, and the entertainment industry. The difficulty will be that folklorists face a number of disadvantages based upon their own lack of institutionalisation and support. Folklore has suffered as an academic discipline and in the United States is on the verge of extinction at the doctoral level. The advanced, demanding, interdisciplinary training needed to adequately work with cultural communities is generally unavailable. This means that, at least in the United States, the roles, at the highest levels, will fall to others coming out anthropology, history, arts and cultural heritage management programs who will need a great deal of onthe-job training. The situation in public cultural institutions in the United States is not much better. Public fiscal support for culture is at low levels. Generally speaking, public folklorists labour in one or two person operations. Even at the national level, overall support is quite inadequate for the task; such organisations, such as at the Smithsonian, the Library of Congress, and the National Endowments are always seeking foundation, corporate and other support for their activities. Private non-profit units have been inventive in generating resources through grants and contracts for their project work, but continue to exist on the edge of sustainability. So while the needs and opportunities are great, the resources are scarce. This situation is not dissimilar to that found in other nations. A few years ago I analysed a survey of public folklore policy and practice sent to all member states of UNESCO. The bad news for the future was that so little public folklore was being done. Training was largely inadequate, archives needed great help, education programs needed funding, public programs at festivals and in exhibitions were always a struggle to support. The good news was that public folklore programs of all types were very widely distributed. The ability to act was not correlated with a particular level of GNP or literacy or industrialisation or urbanisation. The latitude for action was great, and nations and people, large and small, rich and poor could indeed, through strong will and effort put into place high quality programs that did justice to their cultures. Perhaps, one day, they will.

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A maharajahs festival for body and soul

Richard Schechner is Professor of Performance Studies at the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University, America. Currently he is working on a book about Indian theatre and ritual. He can be contacted at: rs4@nyu.edu

RAMNAGAR, INDIA A king, his prince and

his courtiers ride in full pomp atop richly caparisoned elephants. They, along with tens of thousands of spectator-devotees, their hands pressed together in the Hindu prayer-salute, admire and worship the gods Vishnu and Lakshmi in their incarnations as Rama and Sita. Titanic battles pit human-size gods against 50-foothigh demons. For a whole month there is continuous theatre, 31 daily episodes of love, war, exile, intrigue and adventure. The stages for this performance of great magnitude are locations dispersed, filmlike, throughout Ramnagar (literally, Ramatown), a midsize settlement across the Ganges River from the holy city of Benares in the north Indian province of Uttar Pradesh. Ramnagar is the seat of the Maharajah of Benares, Vibhuti Narain Singh1, still revered by multitudes of Indians more than 50 years after losing his crown and his kingdom when the Princely State of Benares was dissolved into the Union of India in 1949. This is Ramlila, or Ramas play: participatory environmental theatre on a grand scale. Ramlila is theatre and it is religious devotion, pilgrimage, a festive fair and political action. Audiences range from a few thousand for some episodes to 100,000 for others. Every Hindu Indian, and most Muslims, know the story of Ramlila; it is always being presented in films, on television, as graphic art and in literature, ranging from great poetry to comic books. There are thousands of local Ramlilas enacted all over Hindi-speaking India and in the diaspora, too, from Trinidad to Queens. But the Ramlila of Ramnagar is different. It features the Maharajah of Benares as patron, director and player. It is many days longer than other Ramlilas. It is more skilfully produced theatrically. It draws much larger and more devoted crowds. And its future may be more precarious. During Ramlila, Ramnagar is transformed into a living theatrical model of the entire Indian subcontinent, from the Himalayan mountains in the north to Sri Lanka off the southeast coast. Nothing of Ramlila s size, totality and intensity has been seen in the West since medieval times. Compared with Ramlila, the Oberammergau Passion Play and Peter Brook s Mahabharata are small scale. Like all great art, Ramlila changes its meaning over time. Nationalist sentiments, present mostly as a vague background 25 years ago, now operate openly, especially among many younger male spectators. And today s Hindu nationalists, wanting to turn India into a Hindu state, hold Ramraj up as their ideal.

Under the watchful eye of the Maharajahs of Benares, Ramlila has been performed in Ramnagar every year since the early 1800 s. But how long it will continue is no longer certain. The pressures of Indias ever-increasing population and the nations vigorous economic growth threaten this unique theatrical-religious cycle. Ramlila needs lots of time and space scarce in todays India. People who once would support Rama in his war against Ravana now run businesses that cant be ignored for a month. At the same time, forests, ponds and open sites are being eaten up by housing and highways. Even finding younger actors and technicians to replace those already well past retirement age is proving difficult. As an American theatre director who has studied Ramlila since 1976, I am fascinated by its scale, by the attention to detail in its staging, lighting, scenic design and costuming, by the acting and singing, and by the convergence of narrative, spectacle, devotion and politics. I have seen all 31 episodes twice and, along the way, interviewed the Maharajah, the Rajkumar (crown prince) and many participants and performers in the play, as well as a number of spectators. In September, I went to Ramnagar to see portions of this year s spectacle, as I have in other years. Ramayana means Rama s journey, and Ramlila suggests this journey literally. There are no seats. People sit on the ground, stand, watch from rooftops or perch on walls. When the action calls for it, the crowd moves from one location to another. Following in Rama s footsteps is fundamental to Ramlila. This movement is a kind of pilgrimage, a worship-in-action. The festival itself transforms an area of many square miles. Some of the stages are enclosures in the middle of the town, others are deep in what was once forest and jungle, or on grassy hillsides and in open fields, or amid large gardens of fragrant blooming trees and temples and marble gazebos built by former maharajahs. For one scene, the stage is the Maharajahs own palace, known as the Fort, which it really once was.Each episode is called a lila. On most days, Ramlila begins at 5 pm and continues until 10 at night. Some episodes last late into the evening and one, Rama s coronation, does not end until dawn. The staging is simple and iconographic, replicating images from temples, religious paintings and popular posters. The costumes are richly woven silks in resplendent gold and red. The faces of some actors are adorned with glittering jewels. Many colourful masks and large, brightly painted papier-mche effigies animate

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the performances. Certain roles are passed down in families and are usually played by the same actors year after year. This year, for example, Ravana was played by Kaushal Pati Pathak, a farmer living about eight miles from Ramnagar. When I first saw Ramlila in 1976, Kaushals elder brother, Swami Nath Pathak, shared the role with their father. But this tradition is no longer secure, though it has persevered for more than 100 years. Kaushal said he did not want his son to portray Ravana. Life as a farmer is too hard, he said. The Maharajah has no money anymore. I want my son to work in the city. The sentiment is heard frequently these days. The original Ramayana poem itself is never spoken because Sanskrit is a language very few Indians understand. Instead, what people hear is the Ramcharitmanas, a 16th-century Hindi version of the epic. The entire Manas, as it is called, is chanted by 12 men sitting each night in a circle close to the Maharajah. But even though at Ramlila one can see dozens of people reading texts of the Manas, many others cannot understand its archaic Hindi. To enable everyone to follow the story, a maharajah in the mid-19th century, Ishwari Prasad Narain Singh, commissioned a group of poets and scholars to compose dialogue in vernacular Hindi for the Ramlila.Until that point, the performers mimed the action but did not have lines to recite. Today, the dialogue is spoken or rather, shouted with great vigour by the actors. It is necessary to shout because Ramlila uses no microphones. This adherence to an earlier technology kerosene lanterns and flares provide the lighting is a major aspect of the production. Once, in the 1940 s, microphones were used, but angry spectators stormed the stage and smashed the equipment. Ramlila exists partly as a window in time, a conscious conservation of preIndependence traditions. Not only the techniques, but the underlying socioreligious structures of Ramlila are extremely conservative. Tradition, of course, has its own role in the presentation of the epic. Virtually all of the Ramlila actors are Brahmin men and boys, the highest Indian caste. The exceptions include a boatman and the small boys who play the monkey and demon armies. The roles of Rama, his brothers, Bharata, Lakshmana and Shatrughna, and Sita are enacted by young boys, usually between the ages of 8 and 13, whose voices have not yet changed and who have no facial hair. These children, it is believed, who are still innocent, are the only ones fit to embody the gods.When I asked why a girl might not play Sita, I was told that any female onstage would be considered by villagers to be sexually compromised. It is also said that any girl who portrayed Sita would never find a husband because the action in Ramlila is considered real, including the wedding rites for Sita and Rama. Thus, No one will marry a girl who has already been married. When asked why the youth playing Sita does not face the same

problem, my informant laughed: He is a boy. He cant be married to another boy. The contradiction that what is true for a girl-as-god is not true for a boy-as-god did not seem an issue. As for Rama, no problem: a king can have more than one wife.The boys who enact the five most sacred roles of Rama, Sita and Rama s three brothers are gods for a month, and people literally worship them by touching their feet, singing hymns in their praise, or simply staring intently at these divine beings. This intense gazing, called taking darshan of the gods, is adapted from Hindu temple worship, in which looking at images of the gods is thought to be beneficial. The actual felt presence of the divine is the core of the Ramlila experience.At the other extreme, thousands of people come to Ramlila mostly to enjoy everything from snacks to dinners and to obtain goods ranging from trinkets, posters of the gods, books and good-luck charms to marijuana and hashish. Ramlila is a time and place of pleasure as well as devotion. The largest crowds attend the final battle between Rama and Ravana. This occurs on the 10th day of the Hindu month of Ashvina, almost always in October. It is the occasion for a great theatrical spectacle, a moment of supreme religious fulfilment and yet excited festive celebration. First, the Maharajah ritually worships weapons and horses the symbols of his royal power. Next, he and his court mount magnificently adorned elephants and parade through the adoring crowd from the Fort to Lanka. The Maharajah then proceeds through the battleground and departs. It is not proper for one king to witness the death of another, the Maharajah told me. Therefore, I do not stay to watch this lila. After the departure of the royals, Ravana and Rama fight. Ravana s death is marked relatively undramatically. The actor crosses the battlefield and touches Ramas feet in humble surrender. A three-hour celebration ensues. The people are happy: Rama is victorious, Sita liberated, Ravana dead. It s a great, happy picnic on a warm early autumn night. People are eating, singing, socialising, flirting and praying. Towering over the scene is Ravana s giant effigy. About 10 p.m., in the words of Anuradha Kapur, an Indian theatre director and author of a book on the Ramlila: All at once, the effigy bursts into flames. Firecrackers explode, bamboos crackle, sprays of sparks shoot out. The customary five hot-air balloons ride into the sky. Ravanas mighty spirit rises heavenward. The balloons soar into the clouds until they are no more than little yellow specks. The demon is liberated. One group that always gains maximum pleasure and devotion from Ramlila are the sadhus, holy men who have renounced worldly goods, live on alms and spend their days and nights singing praises to the gods. The Maharajah provides all sadhus with daily rations of rice and lodging. But despite this generosity, there are many fewer sadhus than before. Who wants to renounce the world these

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days? a man asked me. And where there used to be lightly travelled paths leading into the quiet countryside, now there are streets clogged with diesel fume spewing trucks and buses, horn- blasting cars and motorcycles, not to mention bicycles, cows, water buffalo and goats. The deeply rutted dirt roads have not been filled or smoothed for years. Why is the Ramlila enormous? The most direct answer is that since the early 19th century, the Ramlila has been the defining project of the Maharajahs of Benares. The current line was established in the mid- 18th century and, caught between a failing Mughal power and an emergent British presence, was not secure on the throne. Sponsoring a large Ramlila was the way for the Maharajahs of Benares to shore up their religious and cultural authority at a time when they were losing both military power and economic autonomy. Vibhuti Narain Singh ascended the throne in 1939 when he was a boy of 12. Ten years later, his kingdom was dissolved. But the Maharajah continued to rule, not in political fact but by virtue of his learning, his religious devotion and his patronage of Ramlila. Wherever he goes, people greet him with ringing shouts of Hara! Hara! Mahadev! (Shiva! Shiva! Great God!), because he is believed to be a manifestation of Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction and reproduction. Now 73 and frail, unable to walk unassisted, the Maharajah is doing all he can to pass the Ramlila on unchanged. With the participation of Nissar Allana, a stage designer, and myself, the Maharajah is planning a Ramlila museum, which will take shape first as an Internet site with thousands of images, as well as sound recordings and scholarly and historical materials. Kapila Vatsyayan, one of India s leading performance scholars, hopes to edit a facsimile edition of an early 19th century illuminated manuscript, a four-volume version of the Manas with hundreds of original illustrations in a style influenced by Mughal painting. I am helping to prepare a prompt book detailing all of the current staging a how- to-do-it manual that the Maharajah hopes will assist his son, Anant Narain Singh, who is now in his 30 s, when it becomes his turn to oversee the Ramlila. The Ramnagar Ramlila has thrived for nearly two centuries as a magnificent spectacle, a religious experience and a cosmic drama. But will it make it through the next 25 years? The crown prince has never known what it is to rule a state. Is his devotion as intense as his fathers? Can he command the same respect? He is a more modern man than his father. Is it an irony or a sign of the times that on several occasions when we have met, I was dressed in Indian kurta and pajamas, while he wore casual Western clothes? But succession to the throne is not the only uncertainty facing Ramlila. A bridge across the Ganges that opened this year funnels hordes of trucks

close to the Ramlila stages. New housing overruns rustic Ramlila settings. Meanwhile, money is a big problem. Environments and costumes are beginning to look rundown. Performers receive a few hundred rupees as a contribution to those who do sacred work. At one time, this money amounted to something, but no longer. Atmaram, the 80-year-old supervisor of props, sets, lights, costumes and special effects, was not sanguine about the future. I am training no one, he said. After I am gone, who will know what to do? Atmaram has been on the job for more than 50 years. The knowledge he carries in his head is not replaceable. Until now, few outsiders have attended Ramlila. It doesnt make sense to go for one day, and Ramnagar does not have the infrastructure to accommodate longer visits, unless one is ready to rough it. For more foreigners to come or even for upscale Indians from Delhi and Calcutta Ramnagar will require extensive upgrading. The crown prince is studying the possibility of converting a portion of the Fort into a five- star hotel.Yet everyone recognises that Ramlila s uniqueness is a function of its nontourist Indianness, of its being theatre and more than theatre at the same time. Will increased attention from outsiders help preserve or further disturb Ramlila? NOTES
1. www.nytimes.com/2000/11/26/arts/26SCHE. This article was first appeared in the New York Times on November 26, 2000. We are thankful to Richard Schechner for permiting us to reproduce the edited version of the articleEditor. 2. On Christmas day 2000, Vibhuti Narain Singh died. Richard Schechner wrote: News of his passing hit me hard. As hard, it seemed, as when my own father died in 1992. Within too few years both Jerzy Grotowski and the Maharaja were gathered and gone. Though my age is close to what theirs was, my sense is not of my own generation passing but of persons from an older, wiser time, a part of my heritage that I cannot express in words, especially in public, as any writing perforce is. I also sense the eternity of time, the timidity of mortality, and the grace of knowing great men. (TDR Comment. In The Drama Review 45, 2 (T170), Summer 2001)Editor.

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Regd.No.R.N. TNENG / 2001 / 5251 R E V I E W

Myths and logos of the Warlis

Myths and Logos of the Warlis: A Tribal World View Compiled by Avellino Remedios and Edited by Ajay Dandekar, New Delhi: Concept Publishing Company 159 pages Price Rs. 250 Sabita Radhakrishna is a freelance writer, broadcaster and Vice Chairperson of Crafts Council of India based in Chennai. E-mail: sabita@vsnl.com

descends into a small pot, the Warlis believe it is kept happy and it will not shatter the equanimity of their daily lives. It is, perhaps, disappointing that the book does not describe the semantic nuances of Warli art, as legends, myths and rituals are interwoven in their beautiful paintings and craft. In fact, illustrating the book with examples of this art could have made the book less of a scholarly tome and more appealing to the casual reader. And making the book easily understood by the common man would have served the books purpose of awareness raising. Scholars are already aware of the repercussions of invasions on the tribals; it is the general public that has to be sensitised into focussing on the problems that the Warlis face. Another drawback is that the book does not make any recommendations. It does not draw conclusions or suggest routes that can be taken to preserve Warli culture. While the study of primitive myth and rites in the book is illuminating, it would have helped scholars and policymakers alike to be shown a possible road map for the rehabilitation or revival of this tribal culture. As Montesquieu observed in the middle of the eighteenth century, in a particular form of social life there are relations of solidarity amongst the various features. It is these ideas and beliefs that generate kinship and constitute part of the social structure of tribals throughout the world. They generate kinship systems and bereft of it, there is total disintegration, which is something rationalists and the modern sociologists should take into account.

Tribals are part of a countrys

ethnic culture, but in todays milieu, their very existence is threatened and indigenous culture difficult to preserve in the face of constant intrusion from external forces. Displaced by aggressive urbanisation, these tribals are neither understood nor protected by the society. One such tribe is the Warli of north Maharashtra and southern Gujarat. The Warlis were chased out of their natural environs; their hunting regime was given up for agrarian pursuits. With the passage of time, they were denied the basic access to the forest, and the right to use the forest as they did previously, and became bonded labourers. Only the Jesuit missionaries were sympathetic to the needs of these tribals and showed genuine concern. However, Avellino Remedios, a scholar and a priest, realised that missionary work was out of sync with the patterns of the lives of the Warlis. In collaboration with Ajay Dandekar a qualified, experienced ethnographer, Fr. Remedios began to get inside the circle of the Warli tribals, and record the culture traits that he understood and discovered. The result is Myths and Logos of the Warlis , a scholarly work that describes the tribal culture of the Warlis in Thane district, and the numerous legends and myths of this tribe. This is not a coffee-table book for the

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politically correct. This is a detailed, painstakingly documented account meant to sensitise policymakers and academicians to the rights of the Warlis to a life of dignity, culture and equality. The reader is shown the need to acknowledge the tribal identity, and work towards its preservation with commitment. The book pays particular attention to the various chants, which have been documented with the closest possible translations. Some of the Warli rituals and myths have been documented for the first time. All ceremonies are important to the Warli, especially those associated with childbirth, marriage and death. Destroying or depriving the tribe of any of these customs is tantamount to stripping the tribal of his identity. Some of the customs detailed in the book show the tribe s compassion and understanding. For instance, a bride who cannot get used to the ways of her husbands household in spite of the best attempts made by her inlaws, can go back to her fathers home, and another marriage is planned for her. The fear of evil spirits remains a tangible emotion among the Warlis and they propitiate the gods with religious rites. The tribe has strong faith in the Bhagats or wise men, who not only guide the tribe, but also often play the role of physician. The Warlis believe in life after death, placate the dead with the dis ceremony. When the soul of the dead

Published by M.D. Muthukumaraswamy for National Folklore Support Centre, # Old No.65 (New No.7), Fifth Cross Street, Rajalakshmi Nagar, Velachery, Chennai 600 042, and Printed by M.S. Raju Seshadrinathan at Nagaraj and Company Pvt. Ltd., # 22 (153A), Kalki Krishnamurthy Salai, Thiruvanmiyur, Chennai 600 041, (For free private circulation only). Editor: M.D. Muthukumaraswamy

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