GLF

Last weekend must have been the busiest in the (admittedly extremely short) history of our southern expressway; Galle Fort was packed with tourists. So much so that by Friday evening one was being jostled on the way in and out to and from Galle Literary Festival events. What makes the crowds that are drawn to the dusty streets and the plastic chairs in the sweltering January (or February to December) sun bigger every year? The cobbled streets and mosaic-like collage of structures that make up the Galle Fort are there all year round, and so are the beaches and sunsets and the quaint little restaurants and guest houses and kids whizzing around on rickety bicycles five times their size! It could be the glitz. It could be the heady atmosphere. It could be the sparkling discussions as well. Or, just the amazing list of guests! Most of them are just so interesting to watch and listen to that it hardly matters whether you know their work well or not.

Simon Sebag Montefiore on Jerusalem: The Biography was unforgettably illuminating and fun, a good save after the opening panel which was called a “disaster” by one participant. How he looks humorously at the ugly parts of what he calls the “holiest” yet “angriest, dirtiest, bitterest city” is what sets him apart from Jerusalem’s other ‘biographers’. Far from being disregard for the spiritual “centre of the world”, it seems to be Montefiore’s deep conviction that “the apocalypse will take place outside the golden gates and it WILL all end there” that allows him to let Jerusalem be Jerusalem and not turn it into a dream or a nightmare. Another man who took his audience (and at times the moderator too!) in hand was Tom Stoppard, though in a different way. The Halle de Galle was packed 15 minutes before schedule and the audience erupted in applause as the famed playwright took the stage. Quietly, coolly and convincingly he rambled through his life, life’s work and politics, calmly fielding controversial questions from the audience. Izzeldin Abuelaish was unbelievable it seems, and during his session on I Shall Not Hate: A Gaza Doctor’s Journey, a session that was called “incredible”, moved many in the audience to tears. John Boyne, Joanne Trollope, Nayantara Sahgal, Shashi Tharoor, Richard Dawkins, Ingo Schulze, Juliet Nicolson...the list continues.

Despite the big names, stimulating discussions and colourful fringe events (especially those from the Sunset and Mayhem Past Midnight Series), GLF, as any major event, has its problems. “Elitist”, “exclusive” and “commercial” are some of the major foundational claims laid against the event, but one that’s most pressing seems to be the issue – sadly – of washrooms. The situation is in fact better than it initially was, the condition of the available facilities having been improved (my respiratory system thanks GLF for that!), but there was the inevitable queue building up soon after the main sessions. But leaving aside such “petty” concerns, let us look at the more “serious” ones.

The ‘LitFest’ is pricey, that is undeniable, and this does ultimately lead to the event becoming “elitist”. But in all fairness to the organizers, the student rates are nearly unbelievable. This year the American Centre sponsored (as part of the GLF outreach programme’s North-South University Collaboration venture) fifty students from eight universities around the country in a bid to build cultural bridges, providing transport, lodging and subsistence to the chosen undergraduates, besides festival passes and other perks. The “elitism” claim comes mainly from academic quarters, and seems to be on its way to being addressed squarely. Rajitha, second-year English student from the University of Sri Jayawardenapura acceded that he had previously refrained from attending GLF due to an “impression” he had received “that it was certain types of people that went” for the festival, but now that he’s been there, he “would definitely be interested in coming again”. The students also say they find themselves encouraged to participate actively in sessions. As they point out, GLF is interested in hearing more youthful opinions added to the typically older ones. And all this democracy aside, a ‘typical’ audience makes sessions fun, especially when dissenting voices get booed off the floor.

Now someone is going to say that GLF is intolerant. This has been said before. It has also been said that GLF is exclusive. True. But in an attempt to address that issue was introduced the ‘Sinhala Writers, Sinhala Writing’ series featuring a panel on Martin Wickramasinghe as well as a session with two authors famous among Sinhala readers: Buddhadasa Galapallatty and Sunethra Rajakarunanayake. Setting the ‘Sinhala’ writers out there in their own little cranny doesn’t quite seem to address the issue, but “it’s a start” claims session moderator Madhubhashini Disanayaka-Ratnayake. “I would rather light a candle in the dark than curse the darkness”. Strong words and a clear image, and so we may keep our fingers crossed, looking forward to authors who write in Tamil as well as better integrated sessions, next year.

But the (very small) size of the audience at the Sinhala Visions, Sinhala Realities session presents this very small (negligible, really) question: is it a matter of selling tickets? Because as the glaring HSBC logo above the light-blue ‘GLF’ box on the promotional material tells us, the festival is getting rather commercial. And some of the participants feel this is resulting in a decline in festival standards. Amidst claims that “the mix of authors is not very good”, initial impressions tend to be of “pretentiousness”, and some events are “no big deal” are also more positive ones. Musician Rukshan Perera tells me enthusiastically that despite being simply “disappointed” at the lack of even a “touch” of jazz as was promised of the Mayhem Past Midnight session with Jason Kouchak, he enjoyed Eshantha Peiris’s performance of “religious” pieces by the likes of Bach, Schubert and Lizst at the Dutch Reformed Church “very much”.

And then one hears interesting stories of accidental fans like Ravi Ratnasabapathy who arrived at the first GLF simply to keep a friend company and upon being offered a free pass to hear Thomas Keneally was converted. “It was fascinating!” he grins, adding that despite never having been a “reading person” he now finds himself buying (and actually reading too!) books of authors GLF introduces him to. Ravi believes the festival improves every year. Aslam, who was the youngest (thirteen year-old) volunteer at the first GLF too thinks the festival has “obviously” improved. He looks at things from a volunteer’s perspective and is convinced that things are better organized each year and that sessions are just “awesome”. Ameena Hussain though, is incredibly generous. “Every time I have a choice [between events], I’m struggling” she laughs, “I think it’s fabulous, I always think it’s fabulous”.

Tempting it is, to leave it at that!

Changes and GLF continued

Three weeks away from home and it's not really obvious that so much has changed in my life. I look the same. I talk the same. I think the same. But nothing is really the same cus I feel different. Thanks to Saturday evenings at church. It's funny, I wanted things to change, I always wanted things to change, but nothing changed 'til the time was right. Now nothing has changed but I feel right.

I still don't know where my life is headed, I still don't get along with my mum, I still don't wanna be home, I still can't understand him, but I'm happy. I am aware that "everything's gonna be alright…" and that nothing can go seriously wrong, and that's good enough for me. Too good, really.

Coming back home to an over-protective mum is pretty traumatic after spending three weeks with a really cool grand-aunt who sees you for an independent individual, and I'm not really taking it too well. But it's all good. I've been designated 'celebrity' in a sarcastic tone by a certain bitter individual and so I'm living the life. I'm back home, I've got places to go and people to see, that I will go and see.

Okay, cut (the crap) to the chase, I started dissecting GLF and must finish. Thus we travel back in time to Friday the 18^th of January, Galle Fort:

 

Event 018:    The Power of Poetry with John Mateer, Tishani Doshi, Jeet Thayil, Indran Amirthanayagam, Sophie Hannah & Vivimatrie VanderPoorten

Some of the events at the festival found the attendees disappointed that the special guests were not present due to personal/security reasons. Yet this was one event that I would have been glad to learn a speaker (or maybe even two!) absent. There's this tiny stage at the Maritime Museum and seven people stuffed on a stage is NOT pretty. The conversation was a bit random, and some of the poets (noticeably Indran!) were caught going off at tangents at length, making it rather dull.

Tishani attempted to connect the conversation with the title of the event and eloquently put forward the idea that poetry arises from a feeling of powerlessness. Some agreed, some didn't, and there were too many opinions to keep track of.

Sophie kept telling us how modern 'poetry' was not poetry. The basis of her argument was that poetry is essentially a branch of music, and music, essentially consists of regular rhythm and melody. Thus it follows that since poetry cannot have a 'melody' as such, it MUST have a regular rhythm. I argue that in the modern sense of the word, rhythm is rhythm, whether it is regular or irregular. Modern music sometimes has no set time-signature OR key, but it is nonetheless, music. Most beautiful music at that! Her argument is then continued by John, who writes free-verse. The no-rhythm man reveals that some 'poets' write prose, break it up and arrange it in lines of different lengths, then call it poetry. True. Yours truly is an addicted felon! But is that a reason to lash out against free-verse as a whole?

Jeet remains blissfully ignorant of the whole conversation, and when asked for an opinion goes "I'm sorry, I was drifting, can we read our poetry now?". Every time. But hey! He's clean-shaven (bald?), wears a sarong with hiking boots and has a geometrically constructed face. He looks arty enough to be excused. So he read. This was the first of six readings with left most of us with a striking revelation about poets: not all can read as effectively as they write. Tishani especially (no offence) killed the poem she read. The poem itself was amazing, but one had to ignore the voice and imagine seeing the words on paper to enjoy the experience the poem had to offer. Sophie, on the other hand, was an absolute treat. Being a performance poet obviously helped. At the end of the poem there wasn't a soul not laughing, at least smiling!

I went to see these people expecting inspiration. Sadly, I got a lot less, but still, the tiny brilliant moments were worth the disappointment.

Obeying the Command - GLF

I'm half dead. seriously. I've been all over colombo today, half in a tuk-tuk, half walking, doing nothing in particular. i have also just exchanged a green piece of my heart for a pair of shades i know I'm never gonna wear. i feel like shit. but haren commands me write a full report of the Galle Literary Festival and so here goes...

the festival was the best excuse that came by for me to convince amma to let me spend some time with pavi at matara. thus monday found the two of us up at 4am, on the way to colombo. a couple of killer hours spent roasting in the mid-day sun found us on a bus to matara, a five hour journey which i am amazed at having held myself through. this has to be the worst trip i have made so far. i am never gonna do that again. take my word on this. a full two-days was absolutely essential to get over the fatigue and thus wednesdays' programmes were sadly missed. not too sadly though i guess, since it was just the opening ceremony and a tour of the Fort (which i wasn't really interested in) that day.

thursday was different though. the bus ride upto Galle from Matara wasn't too bad or eventful, except that we got off the bus a few miles too far away from the Galle Fort to feel too good about ourselves.

this was the first time i ever walked into the fort (or any fort for that matter!) and pavi's description of it's beauty and grace did no justice to the amazing moment i shared with the place as i walked out past the inner side of the entrance. it's a different world. it's impossible not to imagine pale-skinned "white men" walking down those little streets feeling terribly important and superior yet looking hilarious in their khaki "tropical" gear with faces turning slowly, yet steadily and painfully from pink to red. there is an air about the place of a terrible calm. i say terrible because it feels forced. like the peace in the air, unshaken but simmering calmly in the mid-day heat, pushing down on the dwellers-within, forcing them down with the pressure of the heat. only the occasional sea-breeze gives relief. fleeting relief, hot and salty, a painful memory the moment it is gone. the place was poetic. perfect.

and thus the first day for us began. with a moment. pavi had been here before and she was sure she could find the Barefoot Gallery. NOT. we walked and walked and the bloody heat killed us and pavi was acting so totally like somebody from the opposite sex: "we don't have to ask for directions! I know the way!!!". right. half an hour (yes, half an hour during which we had walked up and down and roundabout the fort twenty-three times missing the exact spot we needed to be and FINALLY decided it was not TOO embarrassing to ask directions) later we had discovered the gallery and the registration desk (and a loo!!! i will just mention in passing that i spent most of my time bugging pavi that i need to take a leak, i need to take a leak, i need to take a leak...) and the fact that we were gonna be broke for the rest of our lives thanks to this excursion. luckily it turned out that pavis' accent and my bandanna and my (apparently) weird sense of normal costume combined had landed us in the "tourist/resident" category. some moments of agony later during which we considered dropping the whole thing, we were allowed in the "student" category. meaning we got in for roughly an eighth of the original fee.

this brings me to a point haren made in his post about what he didn't see at the festival. (sorry! he he...) the festival WAS great, but 800 bucks seems like a hellovahellova lot to pay for an hour of sitting around and listening to some whackos listen to their own voices. that wasn't what the festival was, but I've decided to put it negatively just now, to get my point through. i know amazing people, many amazing people who can't afford to pay 800 bucks an hour. hell, even i can't!!! i can't help but imagine how many people would have walked the idea of attending straight out of their minds simply because the price-tags on the little event passes were a little too shocking. i suppose this is neccesary in a way, to keep the crowd filtered, to make sure only people who feel strongly enough about this to spend so much get in, but it does also lose the festival a lot of amazing people. imagine if i didn't go!?!?! LOL...

okay, i still haven't got to anything worth reading...


event 004: English in Sri Lanka with Michael Meyler and Richard Boyle

This session was alright, the topic wasn't of particular interest to me. the discussion focussed mainly on how the English language had been adapted over time, with use by the Sri Lankan people. although much wasn't to be learnt, many were to be entertained. Michael Meyler is a teacher at the British council who has just had his Dictionary of Sri Lankan English published. he is not an expert but has experienced Sri Lankan English in his work, and a random list of singlish words compiled for his personal use later became what he called "the first dictionary of Sri Lankan English". Richard Boyle on the other hand, knows his stuff. South-Asian English is his line of study, and Michael found himself contradicted when Richard said "actually, this is NOT the first dictionary of Sri Lankan English..." and went on to mention the title and author of the book that WAS. slightly embarrassing moment there... but it was all good.

one of the phenomenons suffered by the language, brought to light, was the "verbication" (or verbifying or whatever!) of nouns and vice-versa. example: horning. much laughter was induced by the implication of vulgarity in the sound of that word. in the UK, the driver is tooting the horn. in Sri Lanka, the driver is horning. or maybe he's just horny???


event 009: From Page to Stage with Tracy Holsinger, Delon Weerasinghe, Senaka Abeyrathne and Indu Dharmasena

this was VERY interesting. definitely a highlight. the discussion started off innocently enough, with people (most of them well-known) introducing themselves modestly and all that. the line of discussion was about the process of writing a play and getting it on-stage and what comes inbetween. Delon, Indu and Senaka all three write plays. Delon made the amazing point, which although it might be obvious to the playwright, probably did not occur to the average theatre-goer: to write a play, you need to think in dialogue. that was the only point he made which is worth mentioning. no, that was the only point he made. fullstop. except of course, unless you consider the fact that he revealed a shocking secret about himself: he writes crap. he didn't really do this on purpose, he just mentioned in passing that "playwriting is all about marketting: you can write an amazing play and not get published, you can also write crap and sell millions" or something to that effect. so that's what happened to him. he wrote crap, but with amazing marketting capabilities, managed to sell. obviously this statement did not recieve a positive response from the audience. actually it didn't recieve a positive response from anybody, even those on the panel were pretty taken aback. i only wish it didn't recieve any response at all, because intelligent people who appreciate art don't need to waste time and energy debating with dumb-ass theories leaking out the mouths of artless businessmen. i want to take a moment here to question the organizing committee as to why on earth he was sitting on that panel. actually, what was he doing at the festival at all? he should have been licking stamps at some dead, fly-infested government office.

Tracy is not a writer, but we all know her as a prolific director, and she had many stories to share about going beyond the expect level of involvement, getting creative and actually working with the writer during production. she also used the opportunity to inform anybody interested about her upcoming productions and audition dates and such, but nobody grudged her opportunistic attitude, thanks to Delons' absurdities.

the round of questions brought up an issue i addressed in my previous post. the panel was asked what they thought of the belief that the Sinhalese theatre in Sri Lanka is far more advanced than the English. opinions were mixed, some saying it was absurd and some saying it was absolutely true and some saying it was a debatable matter. it is definitely debatable, but not conclusive. I'm not keen on repeating myself, and thus i won't go into detail of what i think of it.

this session was as i said earlier, definitely a highlight, and I'm sure eveybody walked away feeling (like me) that an hour was not sufficient, and with much to think about.


event 014: Writing: The Pain and The Pleasure with Indran Amirthanayagam, Julian West and Randy Boyagoda

Indran is a poet. an amazing poet. the poet. he speaks in poetry and he inspires me. he writes for the people. he writes for me.
Julian is a journalist who has had a very very eventful life. her inspiration to write came from a moment near-death, lying half-naked in the baking sun with bullets whizzing past her. she thought she will survive it. she decided she would. and she wrote about it.
Randy is a writer. meaning he is a reader. a passing sentence in a newspaper article inspired him to write about something he knew nothing about.

the three of them, as you can see, are totally different. their opinions are are similarly "totally different". since we were discussing getting a first publication through, somebody from the audience asked "what would you say to a young person who wants to give up a day-job to write?"

the responses from the panel:
Indran - it depends. you could be a terribly useless writer, thus it would be stupid, but you need to discover that you are a terribly useless writer.
Julian - do it. if that's what it takes, do it. if you need to live in a one-room shack and work by candle-light to get it done, do it.
Randy - marry rich.

Deepika Shetty beautifully managed the moderating, leaving the audience again feeling that an hour was not enough. just not enough stop listening to people with beautiful minds say beautiful things.

thus our activities for the first day came to an end leaving us tired and hungry, but impatient to get back the next day. the next day shall be described in the next post because i am NOW tired and hungry!!!