The makeshift stage was set. Amidst the dark blue curtains, was a white sheet behind which all the action took place. Soon enough, to the background of upbeat music, colourful leather puppets, each one wearing expressions that speak of their character, made their entrance and started introducing themselves in exaggerated movements. And Poromboke Ketta Varthaya , the tholpavaikoothu performance led by Kalaimamani B Muthuchandran, was underway. The puppets narrated the people’s stories, their perspective laced with humour; in the local tongue replete with varying dialects.
The gathering was small — about 50 people sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor in CurioPlay. But what prevailed in the air, was an unmistakable sense of community.
Muthuchandran who was one the speakers on Day 1, talked about the genesis of tholpavaikoothu , a form of shadow puppetry that is usually performed in a village’s common grounds — often, people travel from neighbouring villages to watch the show. “My grandfather told me that our family has been in this field for over six generations. We were nomads. We would stay in one village for 28 days. Then, we used to perform all the six cantos of The Ramayana in 10 days. Now, we do short format puppetry,” said the artiste adding that this traditional form of puppetry has taken shape primarily through hearsay.
Nature in focus
The Lec-Fest’s intention was to give people an idea of the different aspects that make the Poromboke commons — culture, local art forms and even vegetation. A Shanmuganandan, a wildlife photographer and the man behind Uyir, the first wildlife photography magazine written completely in Tamil, spoke to the gathering, “I started taking photographs in the early 1990s, and was aware of the aspect of conservation right from childhood. In the backyard of my house, there used to be a pond which attracted dragonflies, kingfishers, butterflies and so on.” After capturing an image, Shanmuganandan does extensive research on the species and their characteristics — which, he said, is what finally gave birth toUyir.
According to Shanmuganandan, a lot of exploitation is underway in the name of eco-tourism. “Eco-tourism should not disturb any creatures. There have been instances where I have seen tigers in great discomfort, surrounded by a trail of vehicles from which a dozen cameras pop up,” said the photographer. He felt that any kind of exploitation stems from the fact that the people are not taught to “enjoy” Nature. Even children are not encouraged to spend more time outdoors.
But what was it that led him to write the magazine completely in Tamil? He buttressed on the need to familiarise children with their mother tongue. “Kids at school are learning the English names for all the animals. Some of them don’t even recognise the animals from their Tamil names. We need to change this,” said the photographer who has also authored nine books on wildlife.
At another session, R Rakammal remembered how she first learnt to swim. “I was a little girl and my father would tie a coconut on either side of my hips and throw me into the sea from the shores of our island. My parents, grandparents and their parents, lived on the island.” One of the 21 islands in the Gulf of Mannar off the coast of Tuticorin used to be home for diver Rakammal. After being established as a Marine National Park in 1986, all the fishermen and seaweed divers of the islands were relocated to the mainland. Now, Rakammal, along with her fellow women seaweed gatherers, takes a boat to the uninhabited island everyday. With their paddles, rubber slippers, gloves and goggles in place, the women plunge into the sea, holding their breath as they carefully pluck seaweed from the rocks on the seabed.
Treasures from the sea
“On the days we are lucky, we can do our work. But if there is an unexpected shower or storm, we just have to turn our boat and return. And that would just mean wasted diesel with no income at the end of that day,” said diver N Meenakshi. That is not the only obstacle to the seaweed gatherers now. With the rise in seaweed import, their prices have dropped by half in the last 10 years. But the women continue to dive into the depths of the Bay of Bengal for the seaweed that goes into our medicine and textile dyes among others.
When hook-and-line fisherman VS Palayam navigated, he did not speak of how far his destination was, but at what depth. With a thorough knowledge of the 12 “dead underwater rocks” from Kasimedu to Neelankarai through Vivekananda House and Adyar, Palayam knows the sea like the back of his hand.
The bioluminiscent plankton recently created a buzz at Besant Nagar beach, but Palayam witnesses this every other day. “If you were to dig into the sand at the shore until you find water and disturb the water enough, you will see kamar (colourful plankton) right at your fingertips.”
Thus, Chennai Kalai Theru Vizha’s Poromboke Lec-Fest narrated stories that matter; stories that inevitably touched upon the need to protect the environment we live in.
