Bangladesh - BAWO exhibition

From the Bangladesh Artist Welfare Organization

Face Acrylic on Paper

*

Philippines - Palaver!

PALAVER!
Koytus Interaptus sa Mai/lakan/iyan

A Play by Alberto Florentino

SETTING: The play carries no date---day, month, or year---since the play never really happened in the real world, only in the city, or the theater, of the mind; thus, a short drama fiction, or fiction drama, a la Jorge Luis Borges' ficciones.

SCENE: A backroom in El Palacio. Lunchtime. El General and a high-class call-girl (aka Sonia) are meeting for a McQuickie, the equivalent of the Big Mac taken at midday.

SONIA: (in a voice Mina Sorvino used in Woody Allen's movie Mighty Aphrodite). And where, Señor Presidente, is your small room?

HENERAL: Please, just call me Heneral. (points to the C.R. and makes as if to accompany her)

SONIA: I'll be back in a sec! Get yourself ready. We don't have much time. (enters the C. R., toting what looks like a lady's make-up kit)

(EL HENERAL primps up: takes out a comb and fixes his Elvis Presley hair, opens the front door, and talks to someone on the other side of the door)

HENERAL: No calls---nothing and nobody---until one thirty.

(HENERAL is about to to remove his coat when SONIA returns from the C.R., brandishing a high-caliber automatic handgun which he aims pointblank at a spot between the HENERAL's eyes.)

SONIA: (in her Mina Sorvino voice) Surprise! Surprise!

HENERAL: (really surprised) Hey! Careful there!

(SONIA takes off her wig and we see YOMA in a drag make-up that matches his/her mini-skirt and high heels.)

HENERAL: (regaining his composure) That . . . surely was . . . the quickest sex-change ever!

YOMA: (speaking in his male voice for the first time) You know who I am? Do I have to shed this off?

HENERAL: (points to handgun) Not one unauthorized firearm has been found inside El Palacio since I took office. How did that pass my security?

YOMA: Remember when Al Pacino goes to the C.R. in Godfather and comes out with gun blazing?

HENERAL: I'm not too fond of movies.

YOMA: Then see Godfather. It's a classic: a lesson on how to run an empire.

HENERAL: May I? (indicates phone)

YOMA: Sure, you're allowed one call. (coolly takes one of the chairs in front of the table, all the time keeping the gun pointed steadily at the HENERAL)

HENERAL: (He lifts the phone and finds it dead. He feels under his desk to press a button but it gives no sound) You've cut all lines---who did---planted the gun---

YOMA: That's my secret M.O. Now, as per your instructions, no one will bother us for the next half-hour while we make love---here on this table?

HENERAL: Cut that out! What do you want?

YOMA: I'll be brief. Call off your plans to stay in office. The constitution limits you to eight years---not one day more.

HENERAL: But if the people want me---

YOMA: Yes, the people want you . . . out!

HENERAL: But the polls say---

YOMA: All your inventions.

HENERAL: And the media---there's not a freer press in the whole world!

YOMA: Nor one more corrupt. You've bought all of them. As you are trying to do with the Camara so they'll amend the constitution to extend your term.

HENERAL: But what if that's what the people want? And the Camara and the Cabinet?

YOMA: All your creations, and all to perpetuate your stay in El Palacio!

HENERAL: I may have got some people to want me to stay, but can you blame me if everyone wants me to continue in power?

YOMA: Everyone?

HENERAL: Well, almost everyone. The millions who signed the petitions!

YOMA: All stamped "bought, sold, and paid for." If one had ten billion pesetas---which your Banco Central can print in one weekend like bottle labels---it can buy you anything, or anyone. For small change, enough to buy them a Big Mac at McDo; the poor millions will sell their votes and elect the monkey in the Palacio petting zoo as President, or vote you to succeed yourself!

HENERAL: Yoma! I bailed you out when you were down and out. Your movies were not making money. I offered you to be my defense secretary, or any Cabinet post. Instead, you ran to the hills, plotted against my government, and staged one unsuccessful coup after another!

YOMA: Señor, we don't have much time. Your security will knock in a few minutes.

HENERAL: Look, Yoma, I know how to forgive. You may have anything you want---anyone---any woman---or any man if that's your---

YOMA: Here's my counter-offer you can't refuse. I want you to abdicate. Give everything up, except what you and your family will need in the next 50 years---you may live in comfort in any country of your choice. It's all here, just sign on the dotted line.

HENERAL: And if I don't?

YOMA: Again, let me quote from the Godfather movie. "Your signature on the dotted line, or your brains." (with his free hand takes out a silencer from his make-up kit and screws it on without relaxing his aim)

HENERAL: (panicking only now) You know me well, Yoma. I'm the immovable wall to your unstoppable bullet. But we can still strike a deal. Drop that gun and you can walk out of here. Or I can make you a "designer amnesty" right now, in my own handwriting. Run under my party and I'll make you President, after my term. I'll annoint you. As sure as the sun rises, you get elected, you get to run this country.

YOMA: After you've sucked it dry? Leaving the country---

HENERAL: Why think of the country at this moment? Think of yourself, your family.

YOMA: All I wanted was to be mayor of Quezon City. I know my limitations, mentally, intellectually.

HENERAL: Why let the people in on it? Why be . . . limited?

YOMA: Stop brainwashing me. I want your signature here---now!

HENERAL: And if I don't? When my secretary and my security enter, you're kaput. You're a dead man walking. That movie I saw, did you . . .

(They hear footsteps and voices outside the door. Both panic. Knocks on the door)

HENERAL: Time's running! If I don't open the door a minute after 1:30, you're DEAD!

YOMA: SIGN! SIGN NOW!

HENERAL: OVER MY DEAD BODY!

YOMA: AS YOU WISH, SIR!

(The clock on the wall rings 1:30. At close range YOMA shoots the HENERAL once between his eyes. The HENERAL's blood splatters on the paper on the table)

YOMA/SONIA: (in a Mina Sorvina voice, looking at the audience) Who was the playwright who once wrote, "If you bring in a gun on stage, it must be fired"?

(YOMA/SONIA quickly puts on his/her wig, and fixing his/her mini-skirt and makeup walks up to the door as knocks and the first voices [the secretary's and the security's] are heard)

YOMA/SONIA: I'm coming out! (opens the door just a foot wide) Just on time! (points to the HENERAL slumped on the table but looking as if he were only taking a nap) The President's resting as you can see.

(The secretary offers a thick envelope to YOMA/SONIA. A security man tries to enter but is stopped by the hesitant secretary blocking the way and by YOMA/SONIA holding the door back)

YOMA/SONIA: If I were you, I wouldn't wake him up yet. Let him finish his siesta. When he wakes up, he will be a young buck again. Here's my card, in case he calls for me, and I know he will. I made sure he will.

(The secretary again offers the envelope to him)

YOMA/SONIA: (refuses the envelope) Oh, no, no, Ma'am, no. This is different, not what you think! If you'll let me pass, I have to meet someone else in the palace and I'll need someone to lead me.

(Then, clinging to the security man's arm, YOMA/SONIA walks through the door, past the secretary and the other security men. Once past the door, the people outside the door peer through the opening. Then slowly, quietly, they close the door and leave the HENERAL to enjoy his presidential Post-coital Siesta)

*

Indonesia - Wayang Kulit

Wayang Kulit
[Image of Shadow Play as seen by an audience]

*

Japan - Ikuta

IKUTA

by Zembo Motoyaso

PRIEST.

I am one that serves Honen Shonin of Kurodani; and as for this child here,--once when Honen was on a visit to the Temple of Kamo he saw a box lying under a trailing fir-tree; and when he raised the lid, what should he find inside but a lovely man-child one year old! It did not seem to be more than a common foundling, but my master in his compassion took the infant home with him. Ever since then he has had it in his care, doing all that was needful for it; and now the boy is over ten years old. But it is a hard thing to have no father or mother, so one day after his preaching the Shonin told the child's story. And sure enough a young woman stepped out from among the hearers and said it was her child. And when he took her aside and questioned her, he found that the child's father was Taira no Atsumori, who had fallen in battle at Ichi-no-Tani years ago. When the boy was told of this, he longed earnestly to see his father's face, were it but a dream, and the Shonin bade him go and pray at the shrine of Kamo. He was to go every day for a week, and this is the last day. That is why I have brought him out with me. But here we are at the Kamo Shrine. Pray well, boy, pray well!

BOY.

How fills my heart with awe

When I behold the crimson palisade

Of this abode of gods!

Oh may my heart be clean

As the River of Ablution;

And the God's kindness deep

As its unfathomed waters. Show to me,

Though it were but in dream,

My father's face and form.

Is not my heart so ground away with prayer,

So smooth that it will slip

Unfelt into the favour of the gods?

But thou too, Censor of our prayers,

God of Tadasu, on the gods prevail

That what I crave may be!

How strange! While I was praying I fell half-asleep and had a wonderful dream.

PRIEST.

Tell me your wonderful dream.

BOY.

A strange voice spoke to me from within the Treasure Hall, saying, "If you are wanting, though it were but in a dream, to see your father's face, go down from here to the woods of Ikuta in the country of Settsu." That is the marvellous dream I had.

PRIEST.

It is indeed a wonderful message that the God has sent you. And why should I go back at once to Kurodani? I had best take you straight to the forest if Ikuta. Let us be going.

(describing the journey)

From the shrine of Kamo,

From under the shadow of the hills,

We set out swiftly;

Past Yamazaki to the fog-bound

Shores of Minasé;

And onward where the gale

Tears travellers' coats and winds about their bones.

"Autumn has come to woods where yesterday

We might have plucked the green."

To Settsu, to those woods of Ikuta

Lo! we are come.

We have gone so fast that here we are already at the woods of Ikuta in the country of Settsu. I have heard tell in the Capital of the beauty of these woods and the river that runs through them. But what I see no surpasses all that I have heard.

Look! Those meadows must be the Downs of Ikuta. Let us go nearer and admire them.

But while we have been going about looking at one view and another, the day has dusked.

I think I see a light over there. There must be a house. Let us go to it and ask for lodging.

ATSUMORI (speaking from inside a hut).

Beauty, perception, knowledge, motion, consciousness,--

The Five Attributes of Being,--

All are vain mockery.

How comes it that men prize

So weak a thing as body?

For the soul that guards it from corruption

Suddenly to the night-moon flies,

And the poor naked ghost wails desolate

In the autumn wind.

Oh! I am lonely! I am lonely!

PRIEST.

How strange! Inside that grass-hut I see a young soldier dressed in helmet and breastplate. What can he be doing here?

ATSUMORI.

Oh foolish men, was it not to meet me that you came to this place? I am--oh! I am ashamed to say it,--I am the ghost of what once was . . . Atsumori.

BOY.

Atsumori? My father . . .

CHORUS.

And lightly he ran,

Plucked at the warrior's sleeve,

And though his tears might seem like the long woe

Of nightingales that weep,

Yet were they tears of meeting-joy,

Of happiness too great for human heart.

So think we, yet oh that we might change

This fragile dream of joy

Into the lasting love of waking life!

ATSUMORI.

Oh pitiful!

To see this child, born after me,

Darling that should be gay as a flower,

Walking in tattered coat of old black cloth.

Alas!

Child, when your love of me

Led you to Kamo shrine, praying to the God

That, though but in a dream,

You might behold my face,

The God of Kamo, full of pity, came

To Yama, king of Hell.

King Yama listened and ordained for me

A moment's respite, but hereafter, never.

CHORUS.

"The moon is sinking.

Come while the night is dark," he said,

"I will tell my tale."

ATSUMORI.

When the house of Taira was in its pride,

When its glory was young,

Among the flowers we sported,

Among birds, wind and moonlight;

With pipes and strings, with song and verse

We welcomed Springs and Autumns.

Till at last, because our time was come,

Across the bridges of Kiso a host unseen

Swept and devoured us.

Then the whole clan

Our lord leading

Fled from the City of Flowers.

By paths untrodden

To the Western Sea our journey brought us.

Lakes and hills we crossed

Till we ourselves grew to be like wild men.

At last by mountain ways--

We too tossed hither and thither like its waves--

To Suma came we,

To the First Valley and the woods of Ikuta.

And now while all of us,

We children of Taira, were light of heart

Because our homes were near,

Suddenly our foes in great strength appeared.

CHORUS.

Noriyori, Yoshitsune,--their hosts like clouds,

Like mists of spring.

For a little while we fought them,

But the day of our House was ended,

Our hearts weakened

That had been swift as arrows from the bowstring,

We scattered, scattered; till at last

To the deep waters of the Field of Life

We came, but how we found there Death, not Life,

What profit were it to tell?

ATSUMORI.

Who is that?

(Pointing in terror at a figure which he sees off the stage.)

Can it be Yama's messenger? He comes to tell me that I have outstayed my time. The Lord of Hell is angry: he asks why I am late?

CHORUS.

So he spoke. But behold

Suddenly black clouds rise,

Earth and sky resound with the clash of arms;

War-demons innumerable

Flash fierce sparks from brandished spears.

ATSUMORI.

The Shura foes who night and day

Come thick about me!

CHORUS.

He waves his sword and rushes among them,

Hither and Thither he runs slashing furiously;

Fire glints upon the steel.

But in a little while

The dark clouds recede;

The demons have vanished,

The moon shines unsullied;

The sky is ready for dawn.

ATSUMORI.

Oh! I am ashamed . . .

And the child to see me so . . . .

CHORUS.

"To see my misery!

I must go back.

Oh pray for me; pray for me

When I am gone," he said,

And weeping, weeping,

Dropped the child's hand.

He has faded; he dwindles

Like the dew from rush-leaves

Of hazy meadows.

His form has vanished.

*

India - Rabindranath Tagore

A monologue from CHITRA

by Rabindranath Tagore

CHITRA: At evening I lay down on a grassy bed strewn with the petals of spring flowers, and recollected the wonderful praise of my beauty I had heard from Arjuna; --drinking drop by drop the honey that I had stored during the long day. The history of my past life like that of my former existences was forgotten. I felt like a flower, which has but a few fleeting hours to listen to all the humming flatteries and whispered murmurs of the woodlands and then must lower its eyes from the sky, bend its head and at a breath give itself up to the dust without a cry, thus ending the short story of a perfect moment that has neither past nor future. The southern breeze caressed me to sleep. From the flowering Malati bower overhead silent kisses dropped over my body. On my hair, my breast, my feet, each flower chose a bed to die on. I slept. And, suddenly in the depth of my sleep, I felt as if some intense eager look, like tapering fingers of flame, touched my slumbering body. I started up and saw the Hermit standing before me. The moon had moved to the west, peering through the leaves to espy this wonder of divine art wrought in a fragile human frame. The air was heavy with perfume; the silence of the night was vocal with the chirping of crickets; the reflections of the trees hung motionless in the lake; and with his staff in his hand he stood, tall and straight and still, like a forest tree. It seemed to me that I had, on opening my eyes, died to all realities of life and undergone a dream birth into a shadow land. Shame slipped to my feet like loosened clothes. I heard his call -- "Beloved, my most beloved!" And all my forgotten lives united as one and responded to it. I said, "Take me, take all I am!" And I stretched out my arms to him. The moon set behind the trees. One curtain of darkness covered all. Heaven and earth, time and space, pleasure and pain, death and life merged together in an unbearable ecstasy. . . . With the first gleam of light, the first twitter of birds, I rose up and sat leaning on my left arm. He lay asleep with a vague smile about his lips like the crescent moon in the morning. The rosy red glow of the dawn fell upon his noble forehead. I sighed and stood up. I drew together the leafy lianas to screen the streaming sun from his face. I looked about me and saw the same old earth. I remembered what I used to be, and ran and ran like a deer afraid of her own shadow, through the forest path strewn with shephali flowers. I found a lonely nook, and sitting down covered my face with both hands, and tried to weep and cry. But no tears came to my eyes.

*