[Reader-list] [Announcements] OPERA ON RIVER IN KASHIMR

[inder salim]

DEAR ALL,

YOU ARE INVITED TO A SHORT OPERA  IN

 LUTON MELA 2008, U.K ( LUTON FESTIVAL 2008 ).


TE VYETH ROOZ PAKKAN, ( THE RIVER JEHLUM MOVES ON )

WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY INDER SALIM

THE FESTIVL BEGINS FROM 12 -7 PM.
 ON 3RD OF AUGUST

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ENCLOSED IS A FRAGMENT OF  TEXT IN ENGLISH .
 SONGS IN KASHMIRI BY DEEPALI WATTAL AND SAPNA KACHROO. DANCE BY GRETA
MENDEZ, CONCEPTUAL DANCER LIVING IN LONDON, LOCAL ARTIST AND STUDENT
ARE JOINING TOO.
,
R(i)ver is someone. It has two eyes, two ears, one nose, full face,
playful body full of desire.  It loves to be called by a name: Thames,
Nile, Ganges, Rhine, Veth.  This time it is Veth or Jehlum in Kasheer
or Kashmir, which flows at its own speed, or flows with the flow of
its ever changing civilizations?

Its beginning is its own bluish tint, little viridian, little
cerulean, and a folky gush of innocence. Its own past chooses to
remain buried under the range of mountains. Legend sings that a watery
monster once stifled it for thousands of years until a scientist sage
punctured a stone in the North. So it gave birth to itself, it often
dreams that day…

R(i)ver is someone. It reflects blue of the blue sky, mischievous
grey, peaceful white of the clouds, and invisible faces of gods above.
Its womb has fish and a memory in it, and an electric wire too.

 It has a water within its water. It has a memory that brings it back
to its beginning. It knows how not to disappoint those who named it;
else how will the lovers akin to trees living on its banks learn how
to realize the truest nature of ' the thirst' at roots. So some poets
see a gender in it, and others see a fire of hell on its surface. For
a mystic poet, it is a boat in-itself.

R(i)ver is someone. A character on the stage, a voice of the
voiceless, a piercing silence too. Its shimmer is its own mask with
which it seduces the hesitant 'man' on its bank. Its once in a while
angry swell is the most unpredictable face under its deceptive gaze.
Although its ripples are as indigenous as proverbs of the language
uttered by the people  around it, but it does not complain if some
sounds replaces other sounds akin to its own ripples.

R(i)ver is someone. It carries our dirt like a Dalit to a final
destination called sea. It carries our history and a moral faith to a
labyrinth of cities where we are grappling with our contrived lives.
It sheds a tea for each one of us. It knows our personal pain. It
sings a song for all the oppressed of the world and calls us come back
to earth's simplicity.

R(i)iver is not someone if it is declared dead like Yammuna in Delhi.
Fortunately, river Veth/Jehlum is still alive…flowing





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