Triveni Journal

1927 | 11,233,916 words

Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....

Yama-Pwe or The Ramayana Play in Burma

K. B. Iyer

Yama-Pwe or The Ramayana Play

in Burma

The Ramayana, reputed to be the Adi-kavya, or the first poetical work in Hindu Literature, remains to this day un-excelled in the East in popularity. To the millions in India, Ceylon, Burma, Siam, Cambodia, Malaya and Java it has given not only spiritual solace and aesthetic satisfaction, but has also provided an ideal moral code constantly kept in view and a philosophy easily understood and assimilated by them. To the people of these Indo-Chinese and Indonesian countries the story of Rama still continues to be of absorbing interest. It has stimulated writers and poets in these lands, as in India, to fresh literary creations that have become national treasures. The dramatised versions of the story staged in these countries have hardly been surpassed in popular appeal by dramas based on themes native to their soil. In fact, millions in these lands believe the Rama story to be of national origin; so deep have the roots of this Hindu epic stuck to native soils. To argue with a Siamese or Javanese peasant to convince him of the Hindu origin of the story would be as futile as a discussion with a confirmed Baconian on the authenticity of Shakespeare. On the other hand, he has many ostensible proofs to the contrary, for native traditions have clung round the episodes of the epic; quite seriously he will point out to you of well-known places in his country definitely associated with the story and to certain characters unmistakably native, figuring in some episodes. Your argument that these are later interpolations by native wits would only leave him a little sceptical about your pretensions to sanity.

Therefore, I was not in the least surprised, to discover that the attitude of the average Burman was much the same. To him the story of Rama is both fascinating and moving. Rama, the ideal hero, is a future Buddha, not a Hindu prince or deity. To him Yama (Rama) and Thida (Sita) are Burmese. Their story is told and retold in every home. Hanuman is a hot favourite with all grades of people. Mount Poppa in Upper Burma, noted for its herbs, is associated with Hanuman who is believed by the Burmese to have paid a visit to it in search of a herb called "Taung-lon-gyaw-se myit", an elixir to revive Lakkan who lay mortally wounded. Not having the patience to search out the herb he tore away a portion of the mountain and the void caused is still pointed out to the unbelieving visitor as proof of the legend. On his return journey Hanuman lost his balance and fell down causing a deep indent in the ground which became the Inbaung lake (in Yamethin District). The existence of such legends confirms the view that the Rama story was known to the Burmese centuries before, certainly much earlier than 1767, the date of the Siamese defeat at the hands of the Burmese under King Hsinbyushin, who is reputed to have brought with him the Siamese Rama players. This memorable sack of Ayuthia, which completely paralysed Siamese life for generations and still continues a sore streak in the national memory of the Thais, contributed immensely to the enrichment of Burmese life and culture. It was, once again, an instance of the conquerors being conquered. The more developed arts and crafts of the Siamese appealed very much to the aesthetic sensibilities of the Burmese and they did not hesitate to borrow and imitate, to enrich their national culture. Of these the Siamese court drama, the Rama play, was perhaps the most significant art-form introduced into Burma. The ornate, gorgeous costumes, the charming dances and the brilliant dramatic talents of the court players were sources of immense delight to the Burmese monarch. There was nothing like it in all his domains, for the Burmese had no developed drama, though music, dance and some acting were present in the indigenous entertainments. Thus the drama arrived in Burma from Siam and under royal patronage; the Siamese captives staged the Rama Play at the Burmese Court. Night after night the King and the favoured courtiers and the palace ladies would sit through it highly entertained and profoundly moved. In those spacious leisured days, the court thirsted for novel entertainments and the drama with its epic range and many anecdotes afforded enough interesting diversion and instruction. Soon the Burmese took over the drama that thus arrived at the Court from Siam. The Play soon spread throughout the length and breadth of the country and became very popular. The arrival of this Indian drama through Siam created quite an intellectual ferment amongst the scholars and poets of Burma. Playwrights like U Kin U and U Pon Nya gave the people delightful plays with themes mostly borrowed from the Jataka birth stories and, in certain cases, even original ones. Thus a national drama came into being, but it is noteworthy that none of these new plays could excel the Rama Play in popularity. Artists used its episodes to create objets d’art as at the Shwedagon where carved figures from the story adorn arch-way screens.

The disappearance of the Burmese Court undoubtedly affected the destinies of the Burmese theatre. But the people had already, grown to love it. The Rama Play spread to every village and underwent a process of naturalisation that was inevitable. The Rama Yagan, perhaps the most noteworthy poetic work in Burmese, by U Toe who won recognition at the court of Bodawpaya (1782-1819), intensified the popular appeal of the story and accelerated the process of indigenisation. Since then, other Burmese writers have retold the story from time to time. To satisfy popular demand more romance and humour were introduced in the drama. Changes occurred in the dialogues and descriptive passages that deepened the Burmese tone. The inevitable and irrepressible clowns (we find them in the Javanese drama also) who rarely absent themselves from the stage for long periods, and the lighter veins indulged in by the actors, very often-developed hilarious spectacles. If the austere dignity and idealistic charm of the epic characters have suffered in consequence, elements of popular entertainment have gained in volume. Thus the Siamese Rama Play was to a certain extent Burmanised. But in the matter of costumes and acting, the Siamese traditions continued to be observed more or less intact. Thus, the Indian stage came to Burma in Siamese garb. Like the Balinese the Burmese (in contrast with their neighbours the Javanese and Siamese) have never been disseminators of Hindu culture but strove to evolve a synthetic culture in which the borrowed elements were fitted into an indigenous framework as far as possible. Perhaps it is this strand in the psychological make-up of the Burmese that prevented them from copying the solid, masonry architectural forms at Pagan, mostly built after Indian models by Hindu craftsmen, while they took over many of the decorative motifs and certain other features to enrich and beautify their fanes mostly constructed in wood.

The disappearance of the Burmese Court, which patronised and promoted the Burmese theatre–there was a special officer in charge of the court theatre and the provincial governors following the court practice patronised travelling troupes–undoubtedly affected the growth of the nascent stage and the fortunes of the actors.

Consequently, the Rama players had, in common with the rest, a hard time. But the keen sense of the people for entertainment which has only kept on rising, has now come to the rescue of the players; Though in the changed condition of life few have the patience or the leisure to sit night after night to witness the story through, there has been quite a revival of interest in this ancient drama. The efforts of the late U Tun We, the founder and president of the "Tha-haya-Dana-Yodia-Yama Society" mostly composed of enthusiastic amateur artistes, have ushered in a brighter era for the Yama players. U Tun We was a progressivist and having invited me to witness the performances he was naturally anxious to know how it reacted on the Hindu mind. At my suggestion he had begun a study of Valmiki’s epic and other important versions of the Ramayana with a view to bring about possible improvements in the Burmese version; but soon death claimed him. Probably the task he set himself will remain for long unfulfilled.

A slight drumming at sunset announces the show. The performance takes place in the open. In the olden days the stage was a part of the open auditorium with the orchestra on the sides. There was no curtain and the actors occupied a convenient place in full view of the audience, which served as green-room. There were no foot-lights and no sceneries. While the old type dramas of Southern India still adhere to these conventions the Rama players now use elaborately painted curtains, sceneries, footlights, colour lights and the stage is a raised wooden platform. The orchestra occupies the front row on the floor with their immense drums and zylophones with carved and gilded fronts. The show is free to all but quite a good bit of the open auditorium is covered with mats and any one can get his accommodation reserved by paying four annas for a mat. Quickly these mat spaces sell out for the show is an all-night one and everybody desires a comfortable space to sit through or to lie down when sleep or boredom overpowers him. In fact, when I arrived at the scene at about 9-30 p.m. through meandering groups of food stalls that sprawl over every avenue of approach, the atmosphere odiferously smelly with ceaseless cookings, fryings and roastings and noisy with the bonhomie tete-a-tete of crowding customers, the hooting of cars and buses and the "kabir-dar" cries of the rickshawallas, it all appeared much like a fair in progress. Quite a good number of the mats well occupied; it looked like a migration of families who had come equipped with comfortable beddings and shawls, betel boxes and even home-made refreshments in some cases. As the hours slip by the tired go to sleep with easy non-chalance to wake up again in the early hours when the most exciting scenes are enacted.

The first two hours are occupied with dances and comic scenes. The Burmese fans have a strong bias for comic bouts and thrills. The lone wood-cutter in the deep forest and the tiger stalking him is an admirable setting for a hair-raising thriller. The tiger-ways and habits are so well mimicked that a sense of realism supervenes the mock fight. With two or three tit-bits like this, characterised by admirable mimicking, pretty dances and merry quips, the story proper is commenced by 12 midnight. The characters of the drama invariably dance into the stage accompanied by a flourish of the orchestra co-ordinated to the tempo of the dance. Nritha or pure dance is repeated like a decorative motif as a prelude and analogue to the dialogues, as in the old type dramas like Therukoothu (street-play) of South India. Then again, music, dialogue (in which modulation of the voice is a pronounced feature) and ornamentation or make-ups are features equally shared by the Yama Play with the Therukoothu and Yakshagana types of dramas. It is the traditions of these that were grafted on to Siam, Cambodia and Java. The story that unfolds itself in this leisurely fashion takes as much as a fortnight and, in olden days, nearly twice as much.

The actors wear the gorgeous and pretty costumes of the Cambodian and Siamese stage. Brahmins and sages are in much simpler and ordinary costumes. All the characters of the drama wear masks, the notable exceptions being Sita and Dasaratha’s queens. The colour schemes of the masks have symbolic significance, though few actors seem to be aware of it. Rama is symbolised by a pleasing deep green-toned mask. That of Lakshmana is gilded all over. To the Parasurama mask a silver tone is given. Vasishta wears a light rose-coloured mask while that of Viswamitra has a deeper shade.

The masks of the Rakshasas like Ravana and Rakshasis like Surpanakha (known as Gambi in Burmese) have a more complex colour scheme and are picturesquely hideous. One cannot help feeling that ferocity and untamed passions are patterned with a significant colour scheme and surface mouldings that emphasise ungainly features and psychological attitudes. One is irresistibly reminded of the plastic Kathakali masks undoubtedly much superior to these in artistic excellence and refinement. The masks for the important personages are crowned with a helmet-like head-gear gilded and ornamented with tinsel gems.

A complete set of these with necessary extras would cost as much as Rs. 800 to Rs. 1,000, and the process of making is wearisome and subject to delays. These masks are objects of great reverence, specially to the actors. On the morning of the day the play is to commence a ceremony, much like the Ranga Puja in the Indian stage, is conducted. The masks are arranged near the improvised green-room, accessible to the public also through a side door. There is no dearth of worshippers before the masks who kneel and pray. The masks of Rama, Sita, and their relations and allies occupy a different gallery from that in which the masks of Ravana and his allies are ranged. These should not be brought together or mixed up, for who knows something untoward will not happen from such an unconventional and impious lapse. Once I witnessed quite a flutter and consternation when one of the boys of the troupe, holding a mask of Parasurama, was about to occupy unwittingly a seat near an actress in the bus engaged for the troupe. Promptly room was made a few seats apart from the actress for the boy. To my enquiry as to the cause of the flutter I was told that as Parasurama was a woman-hater particular care is always taken not to bring the mask near a woman lest something dire happen through his terrible wrath. I could not but be impressed at the fanatical tenacity with which these Burmese actors guarded the integrity of Parasurama’s celibate vow. During the show season many people visit the room in which the masks are kept and pay respects to them as these symbolise to them higher spirits. I am told that during the Buddhist Lent the actors of the Rama plays render puja to the masks.

Whenever the dialogue intervenes the mask is pulled up and perched like a tilted head-gear on the actor’s head. When the mask is pulled up and the dialogue is in progress somehow the impression that the dramatis personae are earthly, common mortals on the stage, is in escapable. The masks invest them with a totally different personality more conducive to the creation of the aesthetic sentiment desired. With the masks on, the actors behave with more conventional dignity, restraint and refinement; the actor is denied the use of words but is expected to act and dance (here the abhinaya aspect of the Hindu stage is to the fore) not only with charm but also with effect. The gestures and movements become expressive. Here the movements are all according to the old stage conventions and are strictly disciplined. The actors may not be able to explain the significance of these particular gestures and movements, but that they still remain faithful to traditions is easily realised. Any one familiar with tit the gestures and the dynamic attitudes of the Hindu drama can very well trace parallels.

The Burmese Rama players generally follow the Siamese version of the Ramayana which came to their court. The Siamese version, it is interesting to note, is informed with other versions of the Ramayana than the epic of Valmiki, revealing how familiar the Siamese were with the different versions of the Rama story, as treated by Sanskrit dramatists like Bhavabhuti. The Rama story first came to Burma along with the Hindu colonisers, followers of Vishnu and Shiva whose settlements dotted the coastal regions even before the Christian era. Rama gripped the imagination of the people very much and among the early names for places we have many named after the great hero, such as Ramapura (Moulmein), Ramannadesa for the Taling kingdom of Lower Bunna, Ramanya for Pegu and we are told that there was one Ramanagar situated near Rangoon. Successive waves of Indian immigration and cultural missions must have further contributed to the spread of the Rama story. During the Pagan period (11th-13th century) there was an influx of Hindu craftsmen and traders into Pagan and the Vishnu temple that still survives there, with the ten avatars sculptured on the walls, is revered by the Buddhists as the temple of a great and powerful spirit. The study of Sanskrit by Burmese scholars, which remained specially active during the time of King Hsinbyoshin, and the arrival of many Sanskrit works might have contributed not a little to acquaint Burmese scholars with the epic and other versions of the Rama story. With the spread of Buddhism the Dasaratha Jataka, a truncated version of the Ramayana, spread and helped to endear Rama to the people. Finally the Malayan or Siamese version of the story traveled to Burma during the eighteenth century. As a dramatic spectacle and entertainment it soon caught the imagination of the entire people, once again spreading the ethics and philosophy of the epic. The Ramayana remains today a cherished national heritage and profound cultural influence in the life of the people. Its immense popularity in Burma today is in no small measure due to this favourite entertainment, Yama-Pwe.

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