Whose history does the sad goddess sing about?

In the poem Colonial Girl’s School, Olive Senior writes about how her school, in Jamaica taught her the language of Shakespeare and declensions in Latin but “Told us nothing about ourselves, There was nothing about us at all.” A land ruled by another race is distinctly different from its past. There are erasures and continuity is compromised in this subordinated life. However their products still have deep-rooted connection to what can be called home; like the Lhamo, for instance. The Tibetan opera is a form that has found strength in its identity as a displaced art. Not long ago, it was an unchanging tradition that was passed down over centuries in the strictest discipline. It has, however, now found new strength by drawing attention to itself as a rootless tradition. Lhamo has transformed itself into a window to the historic and cultural past of the Tibetan people. The form itself is quite different from the Peking Opera not only in its style but also due to its highly Classical (Sanskrit) structure. It also gives a much more important position to women due its origins which trace the first performers as women (the word Lhamo which means Goddess, comes from a phrase that they look like dancing Goddesses). The significance of this art form was so high in Tibetan culture, that when his Holiness, Dalai Lama came to India in 1959, one of the first institutions he established was the Tibetan Institute of Performance Arts. It was under his efforts that there has been a recent attempt to revive the Shoton festival, to encourage Lhamo performances. Traditionally, this festival was held for a week at Norbolinga, in Tibet, the summer palace of his Holiness with performances by the four district troupes of Tibet. In India, the troupes come from different settlements across the country, though the main performances are from TIPA itself.

As encouraging as it sounds, we must pay attention to the deteriorating interest in the Lhamo. The length of the plays (they are originally seven hours long) too discourages many from taking an active interest in it. Even though modern versions are brought down to the usual two-hour traffic, the apathy towards Lhamo continues. With stylized dance moves and high-pitched singing, it has taken up a ceremonious role in the society as opposed to its traditional role as an entertainment for the masses. Some say that the reason behind this lack of interest is due to the lack of quality Lhamo. Students these days are more interested in training themselves in dance and music and the Lhamo becomes a routine feature of their annual activities. Since it is easy for a good musician or a good dancer to get cast in chief parts of Lhamo, specially trained actors have become a rarity in this craft.

If one digs deeper considering the attrition as a symptom rather than a cause in itself, we can see that the chief reason is that despite its captivating ritual-nature, the Lhamo falls short due to its limited canon. Outside the dozen or so traditional works inspired from Sanskrit, there have been a few original plays written for performance. Most of them are invariably weak as the new plots are framed in the same structure with similar characters, as well as borrowing heavily from dance sequences from traditional plays. Most importantly, no songs are originally written but used from the traditional repertoire. This presents with very little scope for innovation and driven many students away from the theatrical side of things. Interestingly, a form which has survived and thrived without any formal structure has fallen on hard times despite organized support in the form of TIPA. What could be the reason?

The answer is a little anti-climactic for its obvious nature. It is the structure that has changed the fortunes of the Lhamo. Well, the structure that has been brought upon by the displacement. What was once a tradition that was home-grown in each district with its own regional flavor, was now a composite cultured in a forced environment of the Institute. The voice of the oppressed never finds the same pitch if it is silenced once, for there has been a change. This change in the state of life has sadly never been addressed by TIPA. Instead of forming a powerful that could speak aloud bravely of the tragic tale of their homeland, TIPA has manufactured the perfect Cultural-Historical sample piece which makes no effort to developing into an organic, contemporary form. Rather than focusing on turning the Lhamo into a vehicle for the future which focuses on contemporary problems of this displaced society, it has become a mere spectacle which commands little attention even from its own people. As a people who were forced to find homes in an alien land, the Tibetan public could not make a connection with the folk tales whose meaning have only an ironic value today. Disconnect, however, does not occur in isolation.

Since it is easier to ignore that which is politically uncomfortable, the refugee becomes the biggest blot on the clean chit of diplomacy. How can we get investors from China when those who fled the country are treated with dignity within the boundaries of our nation? We change our stand. The unconditional welcome to the fleeing thousands is cast outside the discourse of politics. We give them shelter, like we give shelter to dogs in the rain. But we really do not care much about the politics of why they are here. We do not want to find out. What drove them? Oh, Lhasa is a very cold place; so they wanted to move somewhere warmer. It is easier to believe that. So continues our hand-wringing, apologetic explanations of the embarrassment that our guests have become. India is a nation without a middle class. The top five percent of the nation controls its majority resources. When the picture of India needs some shining, all the remaining 95% is brushed under the carpet. Minorities, tribal peoples, refugees; they are the same. They are the collective shame of a nation which is fast trying to be developed nation. How do we do that? We will them into a collective non-existence. We change our past. They are there but we pretend they are not; like cockroaches.
Indians have an obsession with history. Like any other country in the world, we have books on history in school, compulsorily read till class ten. But unlike any other country in the world, our history books are dialogues of a total, singular Indian identity with the rest of the world. We are so involved in our pasts that we have developed an ingenious system of filtering, which selects which history is non-offensive to a certain national character we are supposed to accept and be proud of. The event which has had the highest impact on the modern Indian nation is not liberalization as the World-Indian-Citizens would like one to believe, but the Emergency. And still, it is reduced to a paragraph with three lines in it, mentioning the start of it, the end date and what its constitutional position is. Nobody is willing to tackle the emergency in its own terms. Once we are willing to assume a purpose and a position, there is nothing that we are not willing to compromise to achieve it. Education is always the first victim to this sense of purpose. So has it been the case in a place like TIPA.

The students are selected, almost at random, when they are as young as seven or eight years of age. They are isolated and trained in an academy which also gives them a regular school education. However, the question of choice is totally eliminated. This might have produced great actors in the past where children are simply hypothecated to performance groups. It does not, however, work in a world where they have been displaced from what was once their home. They are not just performers but are loaded with the double responsibility of representing their nation-in-exile as well as being artistes. This is where we realize that a specific system of education has hurt them enough for many students to not want to pursue the course they are supposed to follow. It is tragic, particularly when a form which could be a protest in its sheer performance, becomes an archaic, out-dated and inaccessible element in the minds of the people who are supposed to take it forward.

What could be done? For all the good work TIPA has done in the past years, it has also secluded itself from the rest of the town and townsfolk. To re-integrate itself with its people is the only way to allay any hostility towards “the tourist-like attitude of the people from TIPA”. Any sense of resistance must first come from within. For this very reason, the Lhamo needs to not only find new tales to tell but also find new music and expression to give life to those new tales. The double consciousness of being an individual as well as a refugee must not be compromised in following a system of art. In essence, a shift from an eclectic towards the popular will create new avenues for this otherwise captivating art form.

And from this, a form will spring forth, which can reach its audience while demonstrating contemporary concerns. Children would learn from songs, about the past and their futures for statistics can explain only so much. For not just what we learn, but the way we learn it has a role to play in what we retain and what we let go.