Om Thai Ram

A classical Khon dance retelling of the Thai Ramayana offers a spectacle, but can it hold the audience's attention?

The open-air theatre in Bangurnagar, Beawar, was the venue of a rather unusual performance last Tuesday night "" a rendition of Khon, the Thai classical dance form in which dancers in ornate masks and glittering silks perform scenes from the Ramakien, as the Ramayana is known in Thailand.

Considering that this is only the second time that Khon was performed in India (last August, a troupe from Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok, showcased Khon in Delhi, as part of the celebrations of 60 years of Indo-Thai relations), it was quite an honour for this small town about an hour's drive from Ajmer.

H M Bangur, chairman and managing director of Shree Cement, which sponsored the Sala Chalermkrung Royal Theatre troupe's visit to Beawar, was full of a sense of occasion.

And indeed, a dance drama on "Hanuman the Mighty", scenes from the life of the monkey god/devotee/warrior, could reasonably be expected to be "spiritually and soulfully uplifting", along with being historical evidence of the cultural ascendance of Rising India in South-east Asia to give the performance an added resonance.

Clearly, the organisers had somewhat misjudged the audience. For about two acts of the eight-act ballet, the audience remained spellbound by the rich costumes, the ornate masks, the rich silks, the crowns, the tasteful props, the wonderful grace and athleticism of the dance.

But when it came to the enacted bits "" in which a two-member chorus enunciated the dialogues in a high-pitched sing-song "" the impatience brought on by incomprehension was palpable.

Clearly, the assembly was in no mood to understand, much less make allowances for cultural differences. And this despite the fact that every act was preceded by a Hindi summary of what was to come. People started leaving in trickles and, worse, giggling or mimicking the singers.

Would a cosmopolitan urban audience been any better? One hopes it would at least have been more polite about its disinterest.

It's not just Beawar, of course, but the sad fate of all classical art forms, buffeted by the glibber attractions of popular culture "" and not just in India. Khon has had to deal with these challenges in its native society, and to adapt in order to survive.

Chumnong Sangvichien, director of the troupe, reveals, "Traditionally, Khon was four hours long, and was performed through the night. But about three years ago, the fine arts department of Chulalongkorn University came up with a shorter, hour-and-15-minute-long version, which is now performed at the Sala Chalermkrung, formerly a movie theatre."

With ticket prices of 1,000 and 1,200 baht, it is largely foreigners who throng the Sala "" the rich garments, props and masks perfectly embodying the Exotic Orient. As for the ordinary Thai, even traditionally Khon has never been for him.

Performed at court, patronised by royalty, Khon is linked to the king's prestige, says Sangvichien. It is a project to "legitimise" his reign by tracing his connection to Lord Rama. Indeed, the version of the Ramakien which is used in Khon productions today was written by King Rama I (1782-1809) and his successor Rama II (1809-1824).

The Ramakien, as understood from the performance, follows the basic story-line of the Ramayana, localising the names and details "" so there's Rama, Phra Ram, as an incarnation of Phra Isvara Narai (Narayan), the prince of Ayudhyaa, who marries Sida, and fights Tosakanth (Ravana).

But the differences are startling; there's an entire episode about Hanuman conspiring with Kobut Richi (a sage) to steal Ravana's heart which has a sequence on Ravana adopting Hanuman as a son! The differences, clearly, between the two epics are as speaking as the similarities.

Lately, it is the fine arts department of Chulalongkorn University that has taken the lead in adapting the traditions to the modern world. Earlier, says Wiroj Yusawat, a faculty member who was part of the visiting troupe, students would stay with the teacher while they learnt, somewhat like our own guru-shishya tradition.

"But now, the fine arts faculty has a 15-year formal course. Children join at age 8 or 9, the younger the better since their bodies are flexible."

One of the few members of the cast who can converse in English, Timothy Charin is now a trainer at the university and appears as an angel in the production. He was 11 when his mother enrolled him at the faculty.

"I've been there for 13 years now. It's like any other school and teaches reading, writing, numbers,... but with three hours daily devoted to dance. Along with dance, I had to take up a traditional musical instrument as an elective, so I learnt the Ranaat Ek (the traditional Thai wooden xylophone)."

He makes about 20,000 baht as a teacher and from his bi-weekly performances at the Sala Chalermkrung, an amount that on average most young Thais can hope to make. But many others aren't as lucky, informs Yusawat, and need another job to make ends meet.

"Students from the fine arts faculty are also greatly in demand as teachers in the other dance schools," says Timothy. That's what dancers of any of our own classical forms might say!