Diwali Celebrations

I was at the Diwali Celebrations last Sunday at South Hill Park organised by the Indian Community Association. 'An evening of exhilerating cultural entertainment' - and it was.

Many of the colourful cloths and cushions from last year's production of Aladdin had been use to decorate The Wilde Theatre in its flat-floor format and there were the inevitable reminiscences of not only the production but of having spent six weeks travelling around India ten years ago in 1998.

There were takia (round cushions) and mattresses (gadla - gujarati) or (gadi - hindi) scattered and draped from the grid and the balconies there were the most incredible saris and cloths whose vibrancy and colourful energy created a welcoming and communal atmosphere.

There were fireworks at the back of the mansion house, eating in the foyer, shoes scattered, children playing and an atmosphere of absolute peace, joy and of people having come together – to be together – to celebrate.

After the eating and the talking a group of children said an old prayer, in sanscrit (posted below) and then another group played tabla having only been studying for two terms. It was a good sound and the rhythms and technique of tabla seem impossible.

I sat with a gentlemen, Raj, who translated for me the lyrics of the songs of Raji and Romi and Friends, who had come down from London to sing familiar and famous songs from the those familiar and famous Bollywood movies from the 1950s onwards. Familiar to me, too, in that there is a optimism and sparkle in these songs that I enjoy; an energy to the melodies and rhythms that are akin, even, to musical theatre.

Translated lyrics do seem like platitudes at times, clichéd and even trite but I like them and here are a few tasters:

• O, come back sweet / My songs are calling you lost, old love
• The moon (chand) has come out again and you still haven't come / I yearn for you
• You don't know what's in the future or the past / You only know what is now
• Every moment in life is changing / in the weather / in the sun / like shadows
• When you came into my courtyard today the moon came with you / Spring has come and has spread everywhere

These songs of romance, love, life and death were refreshing and had the audience gently singing along and sometimes clapping. There was laughter, much joy and a certain tranquility in this communal experience for everyone and I suddenly yearned to be fluent in hindi, gujurati and punjabi so that I, too, could sing and be a part of this communal performance experience.

There was a certain fusion between audience and performer, and activity, that had allowed both the performative and the non-performative to co-exist. The naturalness and honesty - and realness - of the experience was quite inspiring.

I asked my translator why Bollywood films were such an integral part of Indian society and culture. I was not quite prepared for the lyricism, candor and poignancy of his answer which made an incredible connection:

mass entertainment is an opium for a poor man
to forget and be lost
to lock yourself in another world

We didn't talk much, or translate much, after that - but to say thank you and good bye.

I thought about courtyards, and the moon, and the poor man, and locked worlds, and theatre, and celebrations, and ritual, and music, and taking your shoes off as I made my way back across Bracknell and Berkshire that night: the moon looked good...

Namasté.