Mavin Khoo Danceography

mavin khoo, danseur extraordinaire, admired for skill, imagination and courage as a dancer, after a long sojourn into the international arena of dance, comes home to malaysia in 2008 to share with us a few glimpses of his artistic efforts.

The Crimson Curtain

Dedicated to TrueSong & PureDance,
inseparable, ever more.

This is an original work by
Lam Ghooi Ket
Friday, 7th December 2007

Sharan Kailash is the nom de plume
of Lam Ghooi Ket

SCENE: The year is 1868. We are in the cosy chamber of a devadasi. This chamber once belonged to her mother, a devadasi who has since passed away, and is now given to her. It is one of a few living chambers in an annexe to the temple – one dedicated to Lord Shiva. A bright colour door hanging, facing the audience, but off center upstage indicates the entrance to the room. The hanging is tied to one side of the entrance. It is a simple room, with hardly any furniture. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that it looks poor, but the paraphernalia in it create a feeling of warmth and belonging, and frugal beauty.

Downstage right is a wooden chest, on which are placed some folded saris and shawls. Next to this is a low table, a dressing table of sorts, with some articles necessary for a woman to perform her daily routine. Under the table, two straw baskets are arranged side by side. An antique hand mirror can be seen. This is made of burnished brass. A small oil lamp is set on this table and it is lit. Next to this is another much larger lamp with a thicker wick but not lit. On the floor, in front of this table is a rug placed on a much larger straw mat.

Downstage left, set on a box, is a small one-foot high statue of the dancing god Shiva Nataraja. At his feet are small articles used for puja; on a tray, two bananas on some sireh leaves, little containers of ash, water, and kumkum, incense sticks burning halfway, and a small oil lamp, lit. At the beginning of the scene, the only light in this room will come from the two small lamps. Their glow however allows us to fairly make out the sparseness of the room.

We hear the sound of ankle bells. The devadasi enters through the door. She is richly attired to perform. As she enters, she stops and looks back.

Vasundhara: Yes? [She turns to listen] I know. Yes. I’ll change quickly. [She comes into the room. A bare-bodied man in a dhoti comes into view at the entrance but he doesn’t come in.]

Man: He is a good man, and obviously very generous…
[She removes the shawl from her shoulders and throws it onto the chest.] You can see that… [And he leaves.]

[She sits down, and begins to remove her dancing bells. These she puts on the floor in front of the chest.]

Vasundhara: [to herself]: “obviously generous…” yes, I can see that…

[She moves closer to her dressing table, pours herself some water from an earthen decanter, drinks, and then begins to dab her face with a hand cloth from the table. Slightly out of breath when she came in, she now takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. She is calm and happy. Then she remembers something about her performance. She strikes a pose, and begins to sing, gesturing, showing us some of her favourite moments in the dance. At an emotionally intense moment, she stops. She begins to remove the ornaments in her hair. She picks up the hand mirror and inspects her makeup. Dabbing her face around her eyes, she notices that some touching up is required. She does so. Then she sees something in her mirror.]

“I have lost my youth and my beauty… it’s in the eyes… the little lines that creep up from nowhere to stay just under the eyes. And the lines that quietly reside near the corners of the mouth. At first, a bit of make up and powder will hide them… but not for long. Like everything else, youth and beauty will also fade… just that in a woman like me, they go much faster.

Beauty is like a butterfly – intense but short-lived. You can see that I was beautiful once. Can’t you? Now I should describe myself as “mature and graceful”. [She laughs.] Really, this is cheap consolation for someone who has known what it is like to be admired and adored. When I was younger… well, that wasn’t too long ago… I was adored, adored by princes… I was the toast of the town… I was so beautiful when I danced every man lost his heart to me, watching me. [She pauses, struggling.] No, it was not like that… I was watched… with some interest but not adored. I only wish I was. There were some who desired me but there was none who adored me. [She says this with some vehemence, as if remembering past injustices.] If there were, it wouldn’t have been the way I wanted it to be. They wanted the glamour and the colours, they wanted the body and the beauty, they wanted the breath and the pulse that give magic to the eyes and the smile, that made the body supple and alluring… to taste, and then to discard. Not to cherish. Not to treasure…

[Pause. She gazes at the Siva Nataraja statue. The light changes.]

There was a time when we were cherished and treasured; when we were gazed upon with admiration and respect. And if one of us were truly beautiful and could dance and sing divinely for the Lord and his devotees, we were revered. At the evening puja, we offered our dance to the Lord in the inner sanctum, for his enjoyment. At festivals, gifts of garlands decorated our shoulders, flower petals thrown at our feet when we performed at the nata mandap, the dance hall. Our shimmering beauty gave joy to ardent worshippers. We were the heavenly celestials come down to earth. We were a delight to behold when we followed the Lord on his yatra, his procession, his pilgrimage through the city streets. Devadasis: handmaidens of the gods. [She says this with pride, some defiance, her chin up.] Not “nautch”. Not dancing courtesans. Yes, even then, we were adored and desired, by those who desired the grace of the Lord.

But we were unattainable, incorruptible. We were part of the ideal that devotees yearned for. Their souls would reach out for the glorious, magical flame within us. We had it in us. By our constant adoration of the Lord, He gave us this: the beauty and power to capture the minds of worshippers. For by the grace of the Lord, we had the beauty and the power to hold the mind of the Lord. Our purpose – our breath, our song, our dance, our life – was to please Him.

His game was to have us at His side, and then, one day, on a full moon day, He would embrace us into His all knowing forever nothingness…

Nothingness. I wonder what that feels like, there… no body, no mind, no sight, no sound, no thoughts, no feelings. No pain. Nothing. Or will I be looking into His eyes of endless love… conscious of the secret gentle smile on His lips, the secret to eternity, meant only for me… my heart beating… fast… like the wings of a butterfly… a butterfly drunk on the nectarine bliss of his love…


[THE DANCER]
[She smiles and closes her eyes, giving herself over to the long nurtured fantasy. She begins to sing again the song, moving through the gestures as before… and just as before, she is unable to continue… and she struggles.]

Vasundhara: My mother taught me this song when I was barely twelve… when I had just attained age. I remember. “Watch me carefully now, Vasundhara, and learn this,” she said. “This is a gift. Learn it so well that you can sing it in your sleep… and fill your heart, your hands and feet with the dance like there is nothing else… Do that, and it will be the greatest gift you have ever received from me.”

I remember. She was a strict teacher. I was young. There were many things I couldn’t understand. And when she had to repeat herself many times, she became impatient, her eyes wide with anger and frustration, “You stupid wretch! Are you blind or what? Why do you keep on making that wrong step? Move that leg! Are you a cripple? Shall I break your leg? Use your head!”

She was a beautiful woman, full of charming smiles and alluring elegance, but I was afraid of her. She had so much power in her. Whenever she sang and danced, she made everything come alive. Her lovelorn nayika, separated from the Lord, would alternate between joy and sadness, laughter and tears. [She sings a lyric, catches the moment, savours it.]

When she brought on the Devi in the form of the three-breasted Meenakshi, I could see so clearly how the goddess felt when she realized it was the Lord Shiva Sundareshvara who stood in front of her. [She sings another song, dances, and recreates that luminous moment.]

Once I saw her invoke the goddess Kali, eyes bulging, fearsome, with tongue sticking out. [Again, she reveals yet another magical moment, awe inspiring pose, and holds it.]

I loved that because it would send shivers down my spine. But she always told me that she preferred not to perform the dance of Kali Ma, not during festivals where it could be seen by everyone…

She felt that the sweeter, gentler lovelorn maiden pining for the Lord had more appeal. It was more in tune with her own character, she said.

One evening, when I was about fourteen, I was waiting in her room, this room, for her to finish her dance to help her change. I must have dozed off. I vaguely heard the tinkling of ankle bells. A good strong kick in my behind woke me up!

Parvathiammal: “You are sleeping! You, lazy, good-for-nothing, get up! Sleeping! I told you to wait for me so you can help me change quickly… I have to be ready in ten minutes and you are sleeping. What a useless girl you are! Where’s my tea? Did you make my tea? Where is it? Bring it here. Shiva! Shiva! You just don’t care, do you? For all that I have done for you… hurry up and take out my ornaments… for all that I have done for you, you have become an ungrateful lazy wretch. I feed you; give you a place here, teach you how to sing and dance… and you sleep. I am looking after you. Is it too much for you to look after me a little? Useless! You are useless! All of you are useless!”

Vasundhara: “I’m sorry, Ma.”

Parvathiammal: “Don’t call me Ma. I am not your mother, you ungrateful idiot. I am not a mother! I am nobody’s mother! I have been cheated, cheated by all of you who just want to take from me. I am just a fool, a stupid fool.” [She breaks down into tears.] “I gave one of my rings to that greedy, dishonest son of a cursed weaver so that he would bring Subramania to see me dance but he didn’t. I was all set to dance for Subramania but he didn’t come. Instead that stupid Selva brought some low life, betel-chewing shopkeeper to ogle and salivate over me while I danced. I have been cheated….. Wait, one day I will get my own back. [She pauses.] If only Subramania had come. He would have seen me dance. I would have danced for him… [Spent of her anger, she becomes resigned, tired.] It’s all right, you don’t have to do my hair again. I am not going out. I am so tired now… take off my dancing bells…”

Vasundhara: I took off her salangai and massaged her feet a bit while she sipped her tea. Then I removed all her dance ornaments slowly, piece by piece. I combed out her long hair, her very long hair – she liked me to do that – and as I did that, she gave a sigh. I saw that there were tears in her eyes. She saw me looking at her, and she closed her eyes. I felt my mother’s sadness… but I did not understand where it came from.

There was a bit of warm rice, dhall and vegetables I was to eat after she had gone. “Ma, here’s some food.” She opened her eyes and gazed steadily at me. “I’ll feed you, Ma.” And with my own hand I fed her. After two mouthfuls, she took the tiffin box from me, and then she fed me.

“Tomorrow I will teach you a new song. I will teach you Theruvil Vaaraano,” she said as she gave me the last bit of our shared dinner. “Then we’ll see… we will see.”


[THE DAUGHTER]
Vasundhara: My mother’s name was Parvathi Sundaramurti, most admired among the dasis of our city. I came to her when I was barely ten years old. [There is a long pause.] I… My own appa and amma, they came from the small village of Thirukoyillur… three days journey by bullock from here. Ramasamy and Kamalambal… they were very poor, just farm hands, with many mouths to feed… Lakshmi, they called me… their eldest daughter. As I said, I came to my mother Parvathi when I was barely ten. I was to stay with a good and fair lady, I was told. I would be given food, a good place to stay, and in return, I would learn how to sing and dance.

In the bullock cart, on the way here, I asked my appa how long I would be staying here.

“Until you finish learning, Lakshmi,” he said. “When will that be, appa?” Panic clutched my throat.

I felt my amma squeeze my hand. “Don’t worry your silly little head, Lakshmi. She is a good lady you are going to, and she will look after you. You will get to eat every day. You will wear nice clothes. You will sing, and learn to dance. You have to be obedient, and work hard, or you will be scolded. Nobody likes a lazy child. Remember that.” Then she held me close and whispered into my ear: “Very soon, amma will come and fetch you… and you can show us how you can sing and dance. You will be better off than all of us, kutti.”

I felt better, lighter, and began to imagine eating heartily, wearing new clothes, playing happily with my brothers and sisters. [There is a long pause as she keeps her eyes looking down on the floor, and we see the mists of memory pass over her face. As she looks up, we catch a flash of pain and just as quickly, a veil comes over her eyes.] That was twenty years ago.

I was hungry and tired when we arrived. “Lakshmi, the lady is coming,” my amma pinched my arm… and there she was – the most beautiful lady I have ever set eyes on. Her eyes were lined with black kajal, her hair was shiny and long, dressed with flowers. She wore earrings of green gemstones, she had three gold chains, one with a pendant of purple stone set against small bright red stones like a flower. And her bangles, they clinked softly on her wrists, all matching the many rings on her fingers. They sparkled in the sun. Her sari shone dark green and red. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. But my father dared not look. He kept his head down, with his two hands clasped in front of him. My amma was looking at me with tears in her eyes.

“How old is she, this girl?”

“She is only ten, ma…” my appa mumbled.

“Come here…” and without any hesitation I went to her, unable to resist the command in her voice, and she began to look at my face and then she studied my arms, my hands, my legs, my hair. She didn’t touch me though. “Hmm… she looks alright. I am sure she will be very happy here.” So saying, she handed a cloth bundle to my appa – it clinked softly - who immediately clasped it close to his chest. There was a look of relief on his face. And then, he did the strangest thing – he quickly turned and walked straight to the bullock cart. My amma followed him, and got in after him. A cry was stuck in my throat. They were leaving me behind. Appa turned his face away, and as the bullock cart moved away, I began to cry, trying hard not to make any noise in front of this grand lady. Then I saw my amma raise her hand a little, gave me a sad glance, as they blurred into the distance through the mist of my tears.

[Pause.]

“Now what is your name, child?” she smiled down at me.

“Lakshmi,” I said.

“No, you are Vasundhara.”

“My name is Lakshmi.”

“From now on, I am your mother, and you shall be Vasundhara… come with me now, and I will give you some food. Have you eaten anything? I have cooked up a feast for you.”

I followed her through a hall of cool, stone pillars, the granite floor sturdy and cold – a soothing contrast to the hot, soft, sunbaked sand under my feet outside – and I remember her silk sari rustling softly with the quick steps she took, her ankle bells tinkling whispering in the quiet of the afternoon. We came into her living room, and there she fed me: my first, big, delicious hot meal of rice, sambhar, resam, pappaddam and pickles in three days. There was payasam, sweet and thick, after… I had never eaten like that before. Then I thought of my appa and amma, and my little brothers and sisters who were not there with me, who would have wolfed everything down – ravenously – and I felt empty inside despite my full stomach.

[She gets up, goes behind a wooden screen to change her dress. There is soft music – a song by Annamacharya. We hear the sound of bangles, and she appears, now in a shimmering silk skirt of gold and gauze. Her mood has changed. She is smiling and vivacious, turning this way and that holding her mirror.]



[THE DEVADASI]
Vasundhara: My mother said, after the very day I was presented – it was Vijayadasami – that I should always be seen “dressed to kill”. “You must always make your entrance believing that you are the goddess herself,” she said. I was sixteen.

Parvathiammal: “For now, you have the power to invoke the gods through your dance; your song will lull the minds of those who hear you, transporting them to a place they can never find on their own, and your dance will give them shining visions of divine beauty they will never forget. You must never appear in front of others unadorned.”

Vasundhara: She had taught me well. She taught me everything I knew. From the rhythm of my stamping feet and the graceful gestures of my hands to the captivating stories I would tell with my eyes and my lips, she taught me that which can be seen and also that which cannot be seen.

For six years, I learned how to sing and dance everyday, except for festivals and holidays, or whenever she felt ill. For six years, I learned the songs just as I would have to learn to keep her house, help her cook, dress her for her performances. I was her student, her servant, her daughter. That Vijayadasami day, when everything was over, and mother was flushed with pride telling me how I was her crowning glory, I wished my amma had come.

You see, for six years, there had been no letters. They wouldn’t have written anything on their own but they could have asked someone to pen a few thoughts down. They never came. At that time, I remembered what my appa had said about my returning home when I had finished learning. But in my heart I knew. And knowing, a door inside me closed. A room I hadn’t entered for a long, long time, its inside veiled from me only by a gauzy curtain through which I could occasionally catch glimpses of childhood memories, of sun-filled days, bathing by the river with my brothers and sisters, now was just a dark door. Closed and unhearing.

Parvathiammal: “Vasundhara, my child, my darling, now all my dreams will be fulfilled,” my mother cried with delight as she tugged at the ornaments in my hair. “The news of your debut tonight will spread like wild fire: Parvathiammal’s daughter, Vasundhara, has no rival! In song, her voice is like the nightingale! In rhythm, she would put Nandi to shame! In dance, Indra’s celestial dancers would be struck with both pride and envy! The gods would watch her in amazement. Vasundhara! And in a few days, by my calculations, two days from tomorrow, a messenger will come from the prince.”

Vasundhara: And sure enough, he did come.

“Amma! God’s blessings on you! I bring you a most wonderful message from the prince.” He was a tall and elegant man, with a huge, well-trimmed, well-coiffed moustache. He was dressed in silk from head to toe. His kohl-lined eyes were bright with excitement, and his ever smiling lips were stained with red betel juice.

Parvathiammal: “O Shiva! Shiva! What a surprise! A message from the prince…? And you, Krishnaayya, have brought it to me? Who would have imagined, after all these years! O dear, I am quite breathless. And pardon me for not being a good host, for I am just too excited to let you even sit down. Is the message for me? Has the prince sent for me?”
Krishnaayya: “It’s been a long time, Parvathiammal. The message is for you, and you know that the message is not about you.”

Parvathiammal: “Oh! How curious! I wonder what that may be.”

Krishnaayya: “Parvathiammal, dasi of unparalleled devotion and beauty, the autumn moon that shines eternal in the minds of great lovers of art and poetry, sister to the ever auspicious goddess Kaveri, if you will deign to invite me to a seat and offer me some delicious water to quench my thirst on this hot, hot day, I will be your devoted servant, and in a thrice, quickly acquaint you with the purpose of my visit.”

Parvathiammal: “Ever the flattering one, O Krishnaayya, how long it has been since I last heard your voice pronounce those words that lift my soul into joy. You shall sit, my dear friend, and my daughter, will fetch you water, tea, and sweetmeats. You will catch your breath and, at your leisure, though I can hardly contain my excitement to hear what I already know you will say, at your leisure and pleasure, reveal to me this wonderful message from the prince. Vasundhara…”

Krishnaayya: “Vasundhara…”

Parvathiammal: “Vasundhara.”

Vasundhara: I had never seen my mother this happy. She laughed like the bubbles were bursting from inside her, coming from her heart, out of her mouth filling the afternoon with the memory of past joys. She became young again, beautiful, and full of life. I became happy too, and giggled. And then, I saw him smiling at me.

Krishnaayya: “She must be presented to the prince at the next purnima, the full moon day a week from now. And you, Parvathiammal, should spare no expense to prepare this sweet little thing. As divinity would have it, the praises of her debut have reached the prince’s ears, and so he must surely have a vision of this beautiful bloom.”

Vasundhara: And so saying, Krishnaayya put a gold ring and two gold bangles into my mother’s hands and, giving me a glance, he left.

“Your future is secured, Vasundhara,” my mother said, holding the gold ornaments close to her. “Now, we will see better days.”

For the next few days, my mother picked on the way I walked, the way I held my head. She looked at every fastidious detail about me – my hair, my face, my hands, my fingers, my teeth, the way I drew my eyes. Every second day, she would oil my hair with herbal oil she had made herself. In the afternoons, she would slather me with paste of manjal and chandanam, and when these were washed off, she would wipe me with a cloth soaked with curd. After a short nap, she would ask me to sing and dance. Here she would correct me – giving me new ways to sing a song, to express the meaning of the lyrics.

“Softer, softer,” she would say, “linger on that look in your eyes… now walk away three steps and then look back all of a sudden… yes, that’s it, my darling.”

She said I should sing “Pashiati disi disi” for the prince because it was the best choice for me. I would have loved to sing the piece by Saint Tyagaraja dedicated to Lord Rama – it was my favourite. Looking back, I realize what she meant about this song she wanted me to sing…

As the day of the visit drew nearer, I became curious about the prince.

Vasundhara: “What is the prince like, mother? Will I like him?”

Parvathiammal: “O, you will more than like him, my dear. He is a prince! I remember when he called for me… It is the greatest honour to be invited to the palace, Vasundhara.”

Vasundhara: “Is he very old?”

Parvathiammal: “Hush! What a question! What is youth compared to wisdom, compassion, kindness, generosity? What is fire next to gentility? What can compare with a heart that appreciates your soul and a hand that reaches out to nurture it? The day has come for you to fulfill your destiny – your destiny that brought you away from your impoverished childhood to me, your true mother who now has prepared you for the moment that will transform you and our lives into something greater, far more luminous than you can ever imagine.”

Vasundhara: She spoke of a world I couldn’t see but I was carried away by the desire in her voice. Was it akin to the divine world of my songs, a world inhabited by pure and chaste maidens longing for the Lord’s grace? It didn’t seem so.

[The lights dim out slowly as she exits. A flute plays as house lights fade up to announce a short interval.]


[DESPAIR]
[The flute plays, continuing from the previous tune, as house lights fade down to announce the second half. Vasundhara enters, singing Tyagaraja’s kriti, “nannu palimpa” and does abhinaya for this. It is a piece of deep gratitude and devotion for Lord Rama. More obviously, it reveals her yearning for the Lord, wishing what the saint composer had experienced would be given to her, too.]

Vasundhara: It is believed that the saint Tyagaraja saw Lord Rama walking towards him, accompanied by Lady Sita, the brave Lakshmana and the marvelous dasa of all dasas, the great Hanuman. That saintly person was a miracle, surely a divine one, to be able to live a life of absolute devotion to music and to divinity. He attained Samadhi when I was ten, the year I came here but of course, I knew nothing of him then. My mother taught me this song, and I have heard others sing it whenever we went for kutcheris.

Saint Tyagaraja was a marvelous composer. He was invited by the king to be court musician. But he refused. What was the point of worldly wealth when he already had the greatest of treasures. He sang “nidhi chala sukhama” in response and refusal. Does wealth bring happiness? Singing the Lord’s name gave him real happiness, joy for his soul. I wonder what that feels like. His elder brother, angered by his foolishness, it seems, threw away the vigraham idols of his beloved Lord Rama and Lady Sita. He suffered deeply for a long time for it meant he could not perform his daily worship for Lord Rama, his beloved. Then one day, miracle of miracles, he saw the Lord coming to him, walking, accompanied by lovely Mother Sita, Lakshmana, and the admirable Hanuman. This was when he burst into heart melting gratitude: “nannu palimpa…”

Will the Lord ever appear to me this way in this life? [She looks down, thinking her own life in no way merits any consideration from Divinity.] How will I ever be blessed this way? I am only looking at men. I see only men – rich ones, arrogant ones, brutish ones, stealthy ones, old ones… princely ones… [She pauses.]

That day, I was sent to the palace… to the prince. Krishnaayya smirked as I stepped out of the sedan chair.

Krishnaayya: “You have come, Vasundhara. The prince awaits you.”

[The light begins to change – getting dimmer. She begins to move upstage as if walking along a corridor.]

Vasundhara: I followed him into the dim corridors of the cold, quiet palace, the sound from my bangles and anklets echoing softly around me. He paused in front of a huge ornate door, inlaid with gold work, and turned to me, with one hand on the golden doorknob, “I hope you have prepared yourself for the prince’s pleasure…”

My heart was pounding as he pushed open the door.

[The light changes quickly – brightening as she rushes downstage and faces the audience.]

My mother was mad with excitement, her eyes bright with tears when I reached home.

Parvathiammal: “Vasundhara, tell me, tell me. Tell me everything. How was it? Did the prince treat you well? How were you received? Did you sing for him? Did you dance for him?”

Vasundhara: I looked down, trying to hide my sense of failure.

Parvathiammal: “Don’t be shy, my darling child!”

[The light dims as she moves up stage.]
Vasundhara: How was I to put in words that the prince did nothing? In fact, he was sick and bedridden, weak from the disease of old age. In that darkened room, I sang the song my mother had practiced with me for days, and began to dance, but all I could hear was his raspy, slow breathing.

I could not go on. It was the smell of musty, damp, unwashed clothes mingled with camphor and rose incense. Then a coldness that seemed to have come from his every rattling breath, crept over me. Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind; breathless, a scream stuck in my throat. Then I felt his hot breath on my ear. I turned around to see a huge moustache, and eyes gleaming with desire.

[As she rushes downstage, it brightens.]
Vasundhara: “Krishnaayya lied, he lied to you, mother!”

Parvathiammal: “Did the prince not see you dance? Did he not hear your song?”

Vasundhara: I shook my head. Then she grabbed my arm hard.

Parvathiammal: “Did he give you anything? Did he promise you that he would take care of me…? What have you done, Vasundhara? This was our only chance, our only hope!”

Vasundhara: And as she said all this, she searched my wrists, fingers, arms, neck, hair, face, and dress, looking, looking to see if I had hidden any gift from him.

“Krishnaayya lied, mother!”

I saw her hopes dashed against my surging anger; her dreams, built on vain imaginings, crumbling from her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks; her mouth, always perked up in a vermilion smile, now melting, trembling against her pale face. And in me, the disgust of being taken unwillingly rushed up hot and cold.

I ran. Not able to look at the despair in her eyes. Nor take the pain that came out of her lips, filling me with guilt, telling me that I have failed her. She, who gave me a new life, taught me things I would never have known. I ran out of the house but as I reached the threshold, there was a muffled cry behind me. I turned back. A spasm of fear gripped my throat.

I found her on the floor in a heap, moaning. She had swooned and hit her head. I cradled her in my arms, wondering why this had to happen. And then, it was with great difficulty that I carried her and laid her down on her bed. It took her many days before she could speak. Each time, it was just tears oozing like pearls from her eyes – as if she was giving up the treasures of her dreams. And perhaps, I was there to collect these.

One day, after giving her a few morsels of food, she held my hand. Hers was cold and frail. Smiling at me, she whispered, “Vasundhara, keep dancing…”

Could I have done anything else? The beautiful things she had told me about being a devadasi in a bygone era, that time of innocence and delight, dancing only for the gods, drinking from the fountain of joy that would spring from having offered our heart, body, mind and soul to divinity, filling our heart with faith inducing devotion. That was all I had, to go on hoping, to go on living. Had I known anything else?


[DELIGHT]
Vasundhara: Very quickly, I found myself the new mistress, which just meant that I was to have more on my shoulders. Then something wonderful happened on Shivaratri night. I was set to perform at the temple in front of an audience that night. It was not my best. I had ascended the stage with a heavy heart, my mind deeply anxious about my mother’s failing health, and my body burdened with exhaustion from taking care of her. She had become more and more frail, wasting away; her spirit, once so strong and alluring, had slipped away. It must have been my worst performance.

[Music begins to fill the air, and she begins to sing the very first song at the beginning of the play. This time, instead of stopping, she sings it through, revealing to us the profound experience she had at that performance – a vision of the Lord! Suffused with radiant happiness, like recognizing a long sought after lover, she gazes in silent wonder ahead of her, unable to speak for a few moments, her lips moving but soundless, and her breathing is held. Then, with a quiet gasp, she seems to come out of her reverie, as if her vision is fading, and almost immediately she appears to catch sight of someone in front of her… a different but just as intense experience…]

And there he was, my beloved lord in the flesh. My lord, whose eyes, lotus petal-like, could fill the very depths of my being. He was sitting there looking at me, gazing into my soul. Then he smiled at me, a smile that told me that he had always known me, and I, him.

He was there at all my performances; at festivals held within the temple walls, at court, at sabhas, at public gatherings in the open air, by the riverbank… always just two rows from the stage. And I danced like I had never danced before. I felt that my dancing had truth then – my spirit soared much further, plunged much deeper into the music and the song because at last, I had someone who would listen to my heart. But immediately after each performance, he would be gone.

After a while, I resorted to stealing a peek from backstage to see if he had come, and near the end of each performance, I would dread retreating into the wings, because I knew I would be performing the mangalam to his empty chair.

So desperately was my heart lost to him, that once, just before the varnam, I sent him a note asking him to stay till the end. I did not even know his name, mindful of gossipers if I had made enquiries. My heart sank when I came back on stage for the mangalam – his chair was empty.

I didn’t hear the applause. I didn’t hear the cheers. I only heard my name like a distant echo marred by a lot of noise. Oblivious to congratulations, vaguely seeing the leering smiles, careless of the useless notes of proposals pressed stealthily into my hands, I turned away into myself, and hurried into the dressing room, hardly able to hide my tears of disappointment.

And there he stood, waiting for me.

Venkataraman: “You have many admirers! [pause] Did you think that I would not come?”

Vasundhara: “No, I, I thought perhaps you… you couldn’t… didn’t…”

Venkataraman: “You thought perhaps I didn’t care?”

Vasundhara: He stood close to me, and lightly touched my hand… in that instance I was utterly and totally lost. If he had not been the gentleman he was, I would have lost all sense of decorum and decency.

Venkataraman: “May I have the honour of paying you a visit tomorrow afternoon?”

Vasundhara: “Yes…”

Venkataraman: “My friends call me Ramu…”

Vasundhara: I tried speaking, saying his name, but I couldn’t. Words would not come to my rescue, as my heart, and my mind, was no longer mine.

[The light changes.]

The very next day, at sunset he came to me, and we became lovers. It rained. The crashing rain on the roof, rushing through the trees, the whole world wet and cold – and I was warm and safe in his arms, breathing in his warm strength.

In the early morning, just as sunlight pierced the dew wet leaves on the trees, sending singing birds into a spree, he stood at the threshold, handsome and tall, waiting for me to let him go back to his world – a world different from mine.

Venkataraman: “My earth goddess, my earth goddess who has the power to bring heaven down to me, will you let me take leave of you, my sweet?”

Vasundhara: What joy! To be so sure that if I let him go, he would come back to me again. To feel the aching sweetness of his absence, thinking of him constantly, and then, to drink in the rush of happiness and laughter when he returned to take my hand in his, to gaze into my eyes, as I gaze into his, both of us lost to each other in love.

It was a miracle; my world of pain remembered, hopes dashed, questions unanswered melted away the moment our eyes met. In that warm, soft embrace, it was just me and him. It was enough, with his heart beating next to mine, to just breathe in and breathe out. My Ramu… my life.


[DEATH & DESIRE]
[The light changes as she moves to another part of the stage and lies down slowly. She lets out a long sigh and turns her head slightly.]

Parvathiammal: “Vasundhara… You have finally found something for yourself. Remember what is given can also be taken away… as it is with everything else. What I have, I give to you; this house, my jewellery, and all that you can see. That which is of real value, I have already given… [There is a long pause as she searches Vasundhara’s eyes.] Try to be happy.

[Parvathiammal takes in a long, deep breath slowly as the light begins to dim. In another part, a spot of light comes on, and Vasundhara walks into this.]

Vasundhara: I had never been happier. Even my mother’s death could not spoil the sunlight and the breeze in my day. For the first time in my life, I felt strong, one with the earth. The wind in my face was a caress, and the perfume of flowers from my garden made me smile. Spring came green and fresh, young and joyful, filled with love. I was surrounded by thankfulness. I had Ramu to love, and I was loved in return.

Each day, I gave thanks to my Lord, for answering my heart’s prayers, for sending me His love this way. I danced with devotion in return. Having love in my life made me realize how I can truly love God. It was no longer a sacrifice nor an obligation or duty for me to dance for my Lord. It was my joy. For the Lord had blessed me.

The summer came hot and sweltering but there were mangoes, sweet and rich, for my Ramu and me. At the beginning of the monsoon, the peacocks boasted their shimmering blue green tails, and it became known that Vasundhara had a lover.

The money, the gifts, and the notes of desire dwindled – I no longer danced for men, at least not those who came to see me with the hope of satisfying their urges. My so-called admirers began to stay away. The mean rumours spread about me took its toll on my reputation. [She is defiant.] I did not let it bother me. What? Was I to live my life according to their opinions? What right do they have to judge me?

But my money began to run out, and the next spring, I noticed a change in Ramu.

Vasundhara: “Where have you been? I have not seen you for the last two weeks! What happened? Is something wrong?”

He looked strange as he sat far from me, and I felt cold.

Venkataraman: “Things are changing, Vasundhara.”

Vasundhara: “What is changing, Ramu? [There is a long pause.] Is it me? Have you grown tired of me?”

He held me close, tight, and said that he couldn’t explain. That night, lying next to him, I did not sleep. Fear gripped my heart, and my mind raced through horrible possibilities that began to crowd me. The light of dawn brought no relief.

Over the next few days, I felt him trying to shake off the deep unease in his heart but he couldn’t. Desperate, I confronted him with my anger and frustration.

Vasundhara: “Tell me, Ramu, whatever it is that you are keeping from me and making you unhappy, please tell me. Obviously, it has something to do with me.”

Venkataraman: [At first, without looking at her.] “The time has come for us to break free. For too long we have been living under shackles and chains of our own making… I must leave you.” [And then, it comes like a blow.] “I am to marry a girl of my father’s choice…”

Vasundhara: “Coward! You liar! That’s not true! You lie!”

My hands were on him, scratching his face – he did not resist. I pulled out my hairpin, screaming, and stabbed him in his arm. He held my trembling hand to his heart, and said that it would be an honour to die by my hand and in my arms but that it was not yet to be. With blood on him, he walked away into the night. Out of my life.



[THE VOW]
[The light changes as she moves to another part of the stage.]
Vasundhara: People say that Time heals all wounds. But there are wounds that can never heal. They can be hidden but such deep wounds stay. I became truly alone. [She smiles cynically.] And in my circumstances, my being alone meant renewed interest among those who had found me unavailable before. Don’t judge me: a woman has to live, move on. Make the best of everything and anything. For is not this life given to us so that we can be tested?

Even if I was not to be happy, could I not give someone else a few moments of happiness? Call it what you will: animal instincts, base desires, immoral alliances, or cheap pleasure. Aren’t we all here, looking out for pleasure and happiness? Ha! Wise men call it delusion of the mind, that everything here is an illusion. Well, at least I can give someone an illusion of being happy. What else is there, if not illusion? And if I can delude someone into being happy for a little while, surely that counts for something. I am useful. My life has purpose. I mean something – not for long, I know. Can I say no? What choice do I have?

[She looks at the Shiva Nataraja statue steadily.]

Are you real? Or are you just a delusion of our minds. Our minds that need to fill the vacuum that we chance upon when we begin to ask questions. You are not really there, are you? The stories about you, concocted centuries ago, are there to keep us under the yoke of subjugation, of obedience… man made laws and customs, so that we will never find out who we truly are! [She pauses, and then, she lowers her eyes for a moment.] I know you are the incomprehensible one.

[The light changes as she moves around as if talking to many people.]

On the day I threw a feast for my admirers to celebrate my twentieth year, who should appear at my threshold… the man whose face I had cast away into the darkest recesses of my mind.

Krishnaayya: “Vasundhara, dasi of unparalleled devotion and beauty, the autumn moon that shines eternal in the minds of great lovers of art and poetry, sister to the ever auspicious goddess Kaveri, I have come, though uninvited, to toast your fame and fortune. You have surely surpassed your mother, Parvathiammal, in everything. Now, now, please do not gaze upon me with such hate for I have news that might help you heal those wounds of the heart. You may not believe me but I do have your interests at heart… hmmm. I must tell you that when you were keeping with that Venkataraman, you were setting yourself up for disaster to your career. You were a fool to dally with him for so long. It was fortunate that he ran off when there was no more money in your purse. And even more fortunate that you had come to your senses so quickly. Look at all your admirers today. What a celebration! Now, now, now, don’t upset your little head again. Chalk everything down as experience. And let me come to the point: that lover boy of yours, that Venkataraman who ditched you? It is reported that he was involved in that mutiny of the sepoys against the British, and in one of those silly and violent clashes, he was killed. Such a fool he was. Only fools think of freedom!”

Vasundhara: “But I thought he had married and settled down to become a businessman…”

Krishnaayya: “Pshaw! Nothing of that sort. He had been involved with thugs, terrorists and freedom fighters soon after he left you; naively feeding himself on notions of glory and freedom, thinking he can make a change. Fool! They are all fools! Throwing themselves against swords and guns…. Ha ha ha! But you’re not a fool, Vasundhara. You know what to do to keep tradition going!”

[A soft shaft of light comes onto her slowly as the rest of the stage dims out.]

Vasundhara: He sacrificed our love because he believed in a new tomorrow. He sacrificed his life, just one life among thousands, so that injustice can be seen for what it is, so that others will come to know it. He gave me up, he gave himself up to an ideal so that from now on, we can begin to live without the shackles and chains that have been yoked onto our shoulders for hundreds of years.

Ramu…

[The light changes, and she sings “Bhagyada Lakshmi” with lightness.]

I must be happy for the sake of his memory, for the memory of the one whom my Lord sent me, to make me happy for a short while… my Ramu. My love for him was not in vain… nor was his love for me.

For now I live this life with care, with a sense of peace inside me, even though there cannot be much that will lend itself to such an existence.

[She gazes at Shiva Nataraja, and then kneels in front of the idol.]

I pray… I accept this life given to me, I will be happy. All that you give me, I will take wholeheartedly. I surrender… so that I can have recourse to be free from pain and guilt, so that I can be happy with each new day until the last of my days.

And then, my Lord, I ask, I plead… in my next birth, let me be reborn as one who will do her utmost to regain the glory of the devadasis. Let me be in circumstances much better than this, let me have the qualities of Krishna’s Rukmini, beautiful, learned, wise, accomplished, strong and compassionate, that I may show the world what profound joy there is in worshipping you.

[She picks up the hand mirror to look at her face. Then she reddens her lips, and smiles at herself.]

You can see that I was beautiful once. Beauty is like a butterfly – intense but short-lived. But then, we have all these things to help us along, a little longer.

[She gazes into the far distance for a moment as if looking into the future, and then, coming back to herself, she smiles at us and turns around for us to admire her. She exits.]

THE END

LIANG ZHU

A Prayer:
To that Divine couple whose magical union signifies the beauty of this world; whose love play brings about the myriad shades of colour and emotion; whose eternal love for each other is the cosmic inspiration residing in the deepest heart core of all living souls; whose smiles and glances are music and song, poetry and prose, dance and rhythm; to this great love and shimmering radiance that bring joy and hope to us, let this humble effort be offered, let it be blessed, and may it nourish all who partake of it. OM


LiangZhu – Butterfly Lovers • A Love so deep, it lives even in Death

Zhu Yingtai, the heroine
Zhu Gongyuen, retired official, Yingtai’s father
Madam Zhu, Yingtai’s mother
Yin Xin, Yingtai’s maid in waiting

Liang Shanbo, a scholar
Si Jiu, his manservant

Master Zhou, learned master
Master Suan, a monk

Students, dancers, gift bearers, maids, folk et al

LIANG ZHU BUTTERFLY LOVERS was first staged by the Temple of Fine Arts in Kuala Lumpur at the MTC Auditorium on 17 - 20 February 2002. It subsequently toured to Colombo (May), Penang (June), Johor Bahru (August), Singapore (August), Perth (August), Madras (Dec), and enjoyed a second run in Petaling Jaya (May 2003)

Music was composed and arranged by Jyotsna Prakash and Kumar Karthigesu. Dances were choreographed by Umesh Shetty, Geetha Shankaran-Lam, Shankar Kandasamy. Costumes created by Shyamala Narayanan. Set Design by Lam Ghooi-Ket.

The roles of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai were played by Umesh Shetty and Dhanya Thurairajah

LIANG ZHU 1 Butterflies

Scene opens with theme song. Two silhouettes move across the stage against an ethereal setting of blue and mauve, red and orange. They are butterflies. The theme melody is both nostalgic and poignant, full of longing and love. As the notes soften, they spread their wings and fly away. Then a man appears. He is our storyteller. He picks up the swell of the sweet refrain and sings:

Why should fate be cruel
when love is all we need
all we want is joy but sorrow
sorrow’s face we meet
dreams of love our hearts we weave
dreaming we cant leave
but tis fate that twists and turns our pleas
all we do is break in pain to fly high and free….


Storyteller:
I have a sad story to tell though it didn’t start out sad. A young girl of sixteen, sweet as a rose, bright as the moon, and her heart fragrant in its blossoming was about to receive what the heavens had ordained. But did she know? No. She was like a puppet… like all of us… our strings being pulled and tugged by fate… all we can do is shout. But she did try to pull her own strings you see… she believed that she could make a difference… in her time, no girl would or could have done what she did. She braved dishonour and broke through the cage of convention and tradition in search of her own destiny. That’s Zhu Yingtai for you… that’s her beauty… and she gave up her life, willingly, holding on to the truth that glowed in her heart… and that’s her glory… because she believed in love… Do you? Let me show her to you, this Zhu Yingtai, sweet as a rose, bright as the moon, the day she decided that the fragrance of a rose should waft in the wind, that the rays of the moon should shine on a traveller’s path…

LIANG ZHU 2 Zhu Yingtai

Dance of the Garden: here we see that Zhu Yingtai is a girl of lively disposition though she does well by carrying herself in the manner required of a girl in her position and status. Her accomplishments in literature and music is notable as are her social graces in the company of elders… but it is her spirit that seeks to be free… In the dance, we see her first as a genteel lady, practiced in manners and etiquette, but as the dance progresses, her irrepressible spirit comes through…

Enter Yin Xin, her maid.

Yin Xin:
O miss, your honourable mother has asked me to tell you that she will see you now.

Yingtai:
O good! What do you think she will say to my plan, Yin Xin? Do you think she will agree?

Yin Xin:
I really doubt it, miss. Please forgive my lack of faith but I have never heard of such a thing as a young girl like you leaving home to study… but then you are so clever with words, you always have a way with your mother… surely she will at least consider your wishes seeing how she loves you so much…

Yingtai:
Well I definitely will have to apply both logic and subtle emotional pressure to succeed … actually it is not so much my mother but my honourable father who will prove to be the difficult one… but then I will need to get her on my side if I were to win this first battle of wits with them. Let us go in now?
[Enter Mdm Zhu] O, my mother has come…

Yin Xin:
Madam…

Mdm Zhu:
Yingtai…

Yingtai:
Beloved mother…

Mdm Zhu:
Yin Xin told me just this morning that you have something important to tell me. What is it? Without rhyme or reason… it struck me that perhaps something was amiss or you were unhappy about something… are you alright? Are you not well?

Yingtai:
I am very well, dear mother… just that your child has a wish…
From the ground it first sprouts soft and tender
The bending bamboo from a green shoot grows
Seeking the sun it grows tall and slender
Till it gives shade and song when the wind blows

Mdm Zhu:
What is it you want to say… my dear?

Yingtai:
Like a silkworm feasting on luxuriant leaves
Your child has grown under your tender care
Having spun its silken cocoon bathed in moonlight
It now seeks the sun a beautiful butterfly in the air

[song]
in my heart a small little wish it grows
in my mind a big question has arose
to learn from a great master who knows
moral and ethics, literature poetic
conscience and politics, meaning and music
to that great master in Hangzhou, may I go?

Mdm Zhu:
Who’s heard of such a thing? You’re a girl. Who will protect you? What if something untoward happened to you? In any case, what school will accept a girl as a scholar?

Yingtai:
Beloved mother, if all that the tutor has taught me is true… if all that the learned masters have said is true… then is it not also my duty to study more so that I can be of more use? Must knowledge only reside in the minds of men?

Mdm Zhu:
I know, Yingtai, that you are keen on study. And I am very proud of that… but what is to be done? A girl just doesn’t leave home like that to study. If you were to step out of the house, it is to ride in a flower bedecked palanquin on your way to your in-laws… we will be looking for a matchmaker soon…

Yingtai:
O no! mother… that’s furthest from my mind. Surely the promptings of the soul is more important than the prescriptions of society…

Mdm Zhu:
What soul, my dear…?

Yingtai:
I can go in disguise as a boy, can't I? Nobody will find out… I swear…

Mdm Zhu:
You make it sound so simple… it’s almost believable

Yingtai:
I can do it… I have a plan…

Mdm Zhu:
Yingtai, this is crazy talk… and your father will never allow it…

Yingtai:
Please, my beloved mother…
In my heart a little wish it grows
In my mind a big question has arose
Can a girl like me know how life flows
Let me learn it from a master who knows…

Mdm Zhu:
I’ll have to talk to your father… though I doubt he will ever agree…

Yingtai:
If you agree, my mother, then it is just a matter of persuasion…

[Mdm Zhu gives her daughter a look of exasperation and then sighs… and leaves… Yingtai dances with joy…]

LIANG ZHU 3 Everyone has Two Faces

Dance of the Masks: Entering from various parts and at different times, men and women with their profiles first either left or right painted white. It appears then that everyone has a white face. They dance, greet each other etc… maintaining this white profile. Then they change directions to reveal a red profile… they finally face the audience to show their true colours…that they have both white and red profiles… two different aspects of their personality. The question is WHO AM I? When faced with certain situations, who am I? How does an individual cope with the influence of society’s unseen pressure? What is this idea of “saving face” or “losing face”? How true are we to ourselves when we wear masks?

LIANG ZHU 4 Disguise

Mdm Zhu is seen with her husband Zhu Gongyuan in their private living room.

Zhu:
Preposterous! Does she want me to lose face? Has she not thought about the dishonour that will bring to the Zhu clan if anything untoward happened to her?

Mdm Zhu:
I have been through all that with her… but she seems determined. Well, actually it has already been a week since she asked me and I thought I could let some time pass before bringing it up with you… now I am a little alarmed…

Zhu:
Why? What has happened?

Mdm Zhu:
She has been staying in her bed for the last three days… not eating a single morsel of rice nor a single sip of broth… [sighs] this daughter of ours… how can she go on like this?

Zhu:
Does she intend to starve herself to death?

Mdm Zhu:
The way things are going right now… I am afraid she will do just that… I have just seen her this morning… all pale and wan, looking like… O I just don’t know what to do…

Zhu:
What has gone into her? Have we not done our duty by raising her with care and attention? Have we not given her the best? Where have I gone wrong?

Mdm Zhu:
She mentioned something about the promptings of her soul…

Zhu:
Does she not realize how precious she is to us? [sighs] I just don’t understand at all. Perhaps we have given her too much education…

Mdm Zhu:
How can you say that? Yingtai has her charms as a young lady but her virtue lies in her intelligence and scholarship. We know that she has even surpassed her last tutor… it is only natural that she sees her next step as studying with a master…

Zhu:
But she’s a girl…

Mdm Zhu:
Don’t I know it? We still have to look for a way to unravel this tricky turn of events now.

Zhu:
And I was just thinking of sending out a matchmaker to find out our chances of being in-laws with Magistrate Ma, the wealthiest family surely in this province, and this has to happen now…

Mdm Zhu:
Well you better hold your horses then… you don’t want such plans to go wrong, she being in the mood she is in right now…

Zhu:
But we must tackle the situation before us… who can help us?

Mdm Zhu:
Well, yesterday Yin Xin was telling me how increasingly worried she is about Yingtai’s health, and she had suggested that we seek the advice of a fortune teller to look up the position of the stars… I thought it was a good idea. At least it will be some direction… so I have asked her to look for one today…

[enter Yin Xin]

Yin Xin:
Madam, the fortune teller has come.

Mdm Zhu:
Ah, invite him in then…


[Yin Xin exits to bring in the fortune teller – a young scholarly looking man, with gentle features]

Yin Xin:
The fortune teller…

Mdm Zhu:
Please do come in, master, and pray be seated… Yin Xin, please serve tea to the master…

Fortune teller:
O honoured elder and respected madam, I see dark clouds hanging over you… a problem is unloading its burden onto you… never mind the tea

Zhu:
Erh, respected master, we are indeed stuck in a rut, unable to move forwards or backwards… but first, pray tell us what your honoured name is, and do have some tea…

Fortune teller:
Your humble servant is Fu, and named Sheng. My humble knowledge of the stars have been passed down to me by my grandfather, the great Fu Zhong of Wujia, no doubt you have heard of him…

Zhu:
Erh, I am afraid I have not had the….

Fortune teller:
O… but which man of wealth and position has not heard of the name Fu Zhong, astrologer to the generals. Why, battles were won based on strategies inspired by his knowledge of the celestial spheres… but never mind… that was quite long ago… I am sure your present problem is more pressing than your memory of my family history… I will not take offence…

Zhu:
Perhaps you will guide us then…

Fortune teller:
What exactly is your problem?

Mdm Zhu:
It’s our daughter…

Fortune teller:
How old is she?

Mdm Zhu:
When the spring festival comes, she will be seventeen…

Fortune teller:
Her particulars?

Mdm Zhu:
The eighth month, on the first…

[he calculates on his fingers, mumbles to himself]

Fortune teller:
Problem!

Zhu:
Problem!

Fortune teller:
Problem! She is your only daughter, highly intelligent, keen on study, strong willed but patient. Loved by you both like treasure from three generations… but problem…

Mdm Zhu:
Why is that a problem?

Fortune teller:
Right now her stars are badly afflicted and she is now burdened with a sickness that medicine cannot cure. This is only the beginning, the first manifestation of her astrological affliction. Very soon, their negative influence will come down upon your entire family… she must be sent away in order that harmony will be restored both to her health as well as your household…

Mdm Zhu:
O heavens! Why must this happen to us…

Zhu:
Respected master… when… when should we… and where should we send her?

Mdm Zhu:
She mentioned about studying in Hangzhou…

Fortune teller:
That’s a brilliant idea! Leave the house to restore health and harmony to herself and her home and acquire more knowledge on the way… it’s a good step indeed

Zhu:
Well if that’s the only solution, we will have to follow it. But how will she do that? There are no schools for girls?!

Mdm Zhu:
She thinks she can disguise herself as a boy to do that…

Zhu:
Isn’t that a preposterous idea? How can a girl look like a boy?

Fortune teller:
It’s really not so difficult, dear father…

Zhu:
Excuse me, what did you say?

Fortune teller:
Your daughter has proven her point… [removes his scholar’s cap]

Zhu:
You mean, it’s you, Yingtai!

Yingtai:
Isn’t it me?

Zhu:
What a trick you have played on us…

Mdm Zhu:
What a clever trick, my child!

Yin Xin:
Well done, miss…

Yingtai:
So off I go… to that great master who knows… in Hangzhou…

Zhu:
But… but… aiyah!

LIANG ZHU 5 The Pavilion of Destiny

Enter the storyteller with a bundle on his back… the scene is one of tranquil beauty. A running brook with two willows leaning over it…a pavilion in the near distance, surrounded by flowering shrubs… and in the far distance, rolling hills that look blue behind their misty shroud. He puts his bundle down and sighs with relief… and takes out a clacker and begins to snap a rhythm with it…

Storyteller:
It’s me again. I am traveling with my master Liang Shanbo. We are on our way to Hangzhou in search of that great master Zhou Sijang. My master has asked me to run ahead of him to see if there is a place where we can rest for a while. And as you can see, there it is… the pavilion of destiny. I am here now, and you are here… but my master is not here yet… so let me tell you something about Liang Shanbo… [he uses the clacker… clack! Clack… clack clack!]

Liang Shanbo Liang Shanbo
Here’s the story of my Liang Shanbo
Dutiful son, loved by all
Loves to read, music even more
Thinks a lot but smiles for all
Gentlemanly to the core
O Liang Shanbo Liang Shanbo
That’s my master Liang Shanbo
Birds and flowers, he loves them all
Hills and clouds, more he adores
Thinks of study from spring to fall
O’er every good book he will pore
My Liang Shanbo Liang Shanbo
Who wouldn’t love my Liang Shanbo…

[Enter Liang Shanbo, a youth of eighteen, fresh faced, bright eyes, sprightly step with a touch of restraint… at the moment, he is filled with the excitement of finally going to Hangzhou to study under the great master Zhou.]

Liang Shanbo:
White clouds sail across the sky
Birds are winging high and free
Leaves are waving, trees are swaying
Flowers blooming wild and free
Wind is swinging the willow
The willow bows so courteously
And the brook it sings so joyously
All around me, tis heaven’s beauty
That I’ve never seen…

Si Jiu, did you find us a place to rest awhile…?

Si Jiu:
[sotto voce] that’s my name. [to Liang Shanbo] Yes, master…

Shanbo:
And here you are… did you find a place…

Si Jiu:
There it is, master. A pavilion just right for you…

Shanbo:
Why, how fortunate we are… it seems to stand there waiting for us to enjoy this place with ease… who will share this beautiful place with me? I suppose it will only have to be you, Si Jiu…

Si Jiu:
Perhaps not, master… [Enter Yin Xin and Yingtai dressed as men. Yin Xin wears a grey servants jacket and black pants while Yingtai is in a long scholar’s dress of light green silk. And she holds a fan.] Looks like, you may have company after all…

[Yin Xin has noticed the two men at the pavilion, and points them out to Yingtai. They hesitate to impose upon Shanbo as general courtesy to strangers requires one to be respectful of other people’s privacy. Shanbo, seeing that Yingtai is dressed like a scholar and a gentleman, decides to invite Yingtai to share the pavilion.]

Shanbo:
May I ask this gentle brother if he has come a long way? And if that is so, he must be tired and in need of rest. Let me invite him with great respect to share this beautiful pavilion with humble me…

Yingtai:
Indeed, gentle brother, you are most kind. I have walked a long way… it is true. And in great need of a place to rest. Your invitation I will accept with deep gratitude… but I hope I will not be imposing upon you too much…

Shanbo:
O please! Not at all… not at all.
Every journey brings new awakenings…
the heart must strive for understanding…
a man who sees beauty but walks in loneliness,
must share it with another to enjoy happiness…

Yingtai:
A poet! How fortunate for me.
I thought a lonely path I’d be walking…
to reach what my heart was keen on achieving…
but now a kindred spirit has blessed my journey,
heaven is kind indeed to brighten my destiny…

Shanbo:
May I ask, gentle brother… what is your respected name? And which way are you going?

Yingtai:
My family, good brother, comes from the Zhu village, and my name is Yingtai. I am on my way to Hangzhou, to the great master Zhou Sijang under whom I hope to study…

Shanbo:
Marvelous! What luck! I am going there, too. O please forgive my lack of manners… Your humble brother comes from the Liang village, and my name is Shanbo. I too have hopes to study under master Zhou Sijang… Perhaps we can travel together. In the company of a good friend, time flows like a running brook, and a long journey is shortened with cheerful conversation…

Yingtai:
Let it be as you wish, brother Liang… I am in need of good company myself. Meeting a man of honour is akin to finding treasure…

Shanbo:
How courteous you are, brother Zhu. Today, fortune is smiling on me… and look around us, it seems the whole world is smiling with colour and light…

Yingtai:
You are so happy, brother Liang, and how is fortune smiling on you?

Shanbo:
I am an only son and have always wished for a brother with whom I can share my thoughts and ideas… it appears that my wish has been granted…

Yingtai:
Surely, you do me too much honour, brother Liang…

Shanbo:
I think I may have embarrassed you with my frankness… please forgive me…

Yingtai:
Please say not so…

Shanbo:
Something inside tells me that henceforth I shall be happy…
[he begins to sing and his song is picked up by Yingtai. Together they stroll into the distance, with Si Jiu and Yin Xin following]

White clouds sail across the sky
Birds are winging high and free
Leaves are waving, trees are swaying
Flowers blooming wild and free
Wind is swinging the willow
The willow…

Yingtai:
…..bows so courteously
And the brook…

Shanbo:
….. it sings so joyously

Both:
All around me, tis heaven’s beauty
That I’ve never seen…

LIANG ZHU 6 Study

We are in master Zhou Sijang’s school now and there are lots of students. Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai are caught up in the excitement of the school. First, we see the students of the school in various activities – studying, singing, playing games, exercising or playing chess under a tree. As the scene opens, the music is sweet and low, a flute perhaps, but there from the beginning is already a hint of fun and frolic. So the flute is joined by a pipa or a drum, and it swells… the students do their thing with gay abandon but every time a teacher passes by, they resume their positions of study and contemplation in a split second. This is accompanied by a chant that they intone sonorously in unison, swaying their bodies in rhythm.

Chant:
When the wind blows, who knows where it goes
As the river flows, will white clouds choose to follow
Climb the far mountain descend the dale
But tis the heart that should be in repose…

The moment the teacher is out of sight… they are all up in a jiffy… back to their fun and games. In the middle of all this, we see Liang Shanbo having a good time… midway, Zhu Yingtai enters and seems unsure of how to be a part of it. However, with a bit of prodding from Liang Shanbo, she is off to a flying start. There are moments in the game, football(?), when there is physical contact between her and the others – someone bumps into her roughly and Liang Shanbo is immediately there to help her. There are moments when Liang Shanbo bumps into her or she bumps into him and they ask each other if the other is ok. Finally, their team wins and as they are about to celebrate, Master Zhou appears and immediately there is a hushed silence. The students pay their respects hurriedly and take leave.

Master Zhou: [to the students in a gentle manner]
Twilight is upon us… it is best to call it a day…

Students: [individually and severally]
Yes, Master Zhou… good night…

[Master Zhou nods at each student and strokes his white beard. As Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai pay their respects to him, he notices them.]

Master Zhou:
Liang Shanbo… Zhu Yingtai… two good friends. I have noticed that the both of you are very serious about your study here, and I have observed that you both help each other. This is commendable. In fact, I am very pleased that your rooming together has brought about rapid progress in your studies… let it continue…

Liang Shanbo:
Thank you, Master Zhou, for your kind words…

Master Zhou:
It is getting dark… both of you should be going in…

Liang Shanbo & Zhu Yingtai:
Yes, master… [they bow and exit hurriedly as Master Zhou strolls in the opposite direction.]

LIANG ZHU 7 The Heart Is Like the Moon

All are in bed. All the lights are out. Then we see the soft glow of a lantern. Yingtai enters with the lantern. Unable to sleep, there is something within her heart that needs to be expressed. She stands alone in a melancholic mood, and then she sits on the garden bench, and begins to look at the butterflies drawn on the lantern…

Zhu Yingtai:
What does it mean, this feeling
That each time he calls me
My heart goes soaring
What can it be, my feelings
That each time I see him
My mind goes reeling
Could this be love?
Who will tell me, I’m asking
How will a girl like me
Say her heart’s yearning
Whom shall I ask, I’m wond’ring
Who will listen to me
Listen to my longing
Could this be love?

[as she says this, the full moon comes sailing out from a cloud, and she is bathed in soft moonlight. For a moment, she gazes at the beautiful scene, and then, something dawns on her…]

Lead kindly light, lead kindly light
from darkness unto light
O lead, lead me on…
Lead, lead me on, lead, lead me on
On to wisdom, on to light, lead, lead me on
Lead, lead me on, lead, lead me on
On to love, on to light, lead, lead me on
Lead kindly light….

[Liang Shanbo enters, and looks at Yingtai wondering why she is out in the night air. Then he sees the full moon and is also struck by its beauty]

Liang Shanbo:
How beautiful! The grand harmony of heaven is radiant as day as earth’s silent night breathes in repose, drifting away…

[Yingtai is momentarily startled by his presence and is a little embarrassed but then she realizes that Shanbo is too intent on the full moon to notice her discomfiture… she relaxes and watches him.]

Zhu Yingtai:
Heaven’s light shall lead the way, her fullness has much to say…

Liang Shanbo:
How beautiful, Brother Zhu, the way you have finished my couplet for me… it is no wonder that I am so fond of you. By the way, why are you not in bed?

Zhu Yingtai:
I woke up from a dream that I was a butterfly, visiting the flowers in this garden. And there was another butterfly, too. Then I became aware that I was a butterfly thinking that I was a human being… then I woke up… and I came out hoping to find an answer to that strange dream…

Liang Shanbo:
How profound! Are we in reality, butterflies or human beings? What a thought!
[he muses for a moment; trying to unravel that, but then shrugs his shoulders.]
How curious! Maybe now I will find no sleep…

Zhu Yingtai:
It’s just a dream, Brother Liang… [but she knows otherwise… ]

Liang Shanbo:
Who was the other butterfly?

Zhu Yingtai:
I don’t know… [but she looks at him meaningfully though it is lost on him]

Liang Shanbo:
Why didn’t you ask him?

Zhu Yingtai:
I couldn’t speak… whom do you think it was?

[Liang Shanbo looks at her as if to speak but is speechless]

Liang Shanbo:
How would I know? I wasn’t even in your dream! But, what a beautiful, butterfly dream...

Zhu Yingtai:
Butterfly dream!

Liang Shanbo:
Dreaming you are a butterfly, thinking you are a human being… how profound!

Zhu Yingtai:
You think so?

Liang Shanbo:
I wouldn’t mind being a butterfly, flitting around, looking at the flowers in here… [he yawns]

Zhu Yingtai:
Maybe you should go and dream then… maybe we can dream together and become the two butterflies in this garden…

[they laugh… and Yingtai begins to go inside]

Liang Shanbo:
You go on ahead, Yingtai, I’ll admire the moon a little longer…

Zhu Yingtai [yawning]:
Composing more poems for me to finish? Alright… good night, then.

Liang Shanbo [as he looks at Yingtai going in]:
What does it mean, this feeling
Our moments together
My heart stops beating
What can I be thinking
I’m fond of my brother
So why is my mind reeling
What could it be? [he pauses, thinking hard]

This is even more confusing than his butterfly dream! [he heads for his bed]

LIANG ZHU 8 Question? Answer!

It is the mid-Autumn Festival and the whole school is celebrating. The students bring lanterns and dance boisterously around as they decorate the place. They bring in wooden benches and tables, teapots and teacups, and some musical instruments – all to serenade the autumn moon. The teachers are seen having tea or playing chess. There is an air of festivity… then one of the students quickly dons a master’s robe and comes down centrestage. He play-acts as one of the teachers, gesticulating with his hands, and the rest laugh. The master laughs but realizes that he is the target so he grunts and shows mock anger. The student becomes quiet and begins to recite a poem.

Student:
A solitary figure I am
Set on a journey – who knows where
Cool earth neath my feet
The wind whispers – who knows what
Stars on the canvas of night
Eloquent silence – there, everywhere
The full moon unveils itself
And my heart is full. Filled.

[There is a moment of silence after this… and then everybody claps with shouts of “well done! Well done!” and “Tien Wen is our poet!” and then another song is presented. This time is Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. Yingtai is quickly dressed as a girl – with a robe and a sash to cinch her waist and then a headdress or an ornate hair pin! She looks almost ridiculous. They sing and dance as a pair of lovers amidst initial giggles. But in the middle of the song, Liang Shanbo begins to notice that Yingtai is very good at pretending to be a girl! And he is puzzled. Her hand gestures appear very practiced and graceful. The song becomes a dance… Dance of the Lovers]

Liang Shanbo:
White clouds sail across the sky
Birds are winging high and free

Zhu Yingtai:
Leaves are waving, trees are swaying
Flowers blooming wild and free

Liang Shanbo:
Wind is swinging the willow
The willow…

Yingtai:
…..bows so courteously
And the brook…

Shanbo:
It sings so joyously

Both:
All around me, tis heaven’s beauty
That I’ve never seen….

[Everyone is very impressed with their song and dance… and some give Yingtai a hard slap on the back. Liang Shanbo gazes at Yingtai… now even more confused about his feelings for her. A wandering monk enters the garden. He is invited to join the festivities. He demures.]

Liang Shanbo:
O Venerable master Suan, it’s been a long time since you last visited here. Will you not join us in serenading the autumn moon?

Master Suan:
I was sitting in contemplation under a tree by the waterfall downstream when I felt that I had to come here to answer a question. [He looks around and gazes at Yingtai meaningfully]

Student:
What question, Master Suan?

Master Suan:
What will be asked and who will ask it? I am already here… [The students look at each other curiously]

Student:
Is it you, Shanbo? Are you the one with the question? Come on, ask it now! So we can hear the answer.

Master Suan:
I have come to answer only one question… and I have only one answer.

Liang Shanbo: [hesitating]
Erh… I … uh… I don’t have any question…

Master Suan:
You don’t!

Yingtai:
I do. [Everyone looks at her, surprised, waiting] I have a question, Master Suan, if you permit it… [He is quiet, then a slight nod of the head.] They say that when a silkworm spins its cocoon, it does so to disguise itself and hide from danger, pretending to be dead. But in its deep sleep, it eagerly awaits the day when its transformation is complete, and it then emerges as a butterfly, ready to soar above the trees. But, if fate is cruel, and it comes to pass that the silkworm sleeping in its cocoon is destroyed before it can even become a butterfly, will it get another chance? How many lives does a silkworm have?

Master Suan:
A silkworm is one of Life’s most wondrous creatures. It came from Love and it lives because of Love. Deep, deep within the silkworm, it knows that love is the force that makes it do what it does… so it spins its silken cocoon with great love, knowing that it will one day become a butterfly. [He pauses.] A silkworm has many lives, so many until it is satisfied with being different butterflies. It knows this deep, deep within but its instinct is to spin, and then to sleep, and then to transform, and then, to fly free. In between, when it forfeits its life due to fate, it returns very soon, as another silkworm, to work out its destiny. Death is an illusion… only love is real… for love is eternal. When it finally breaks through the thousand knots as a butterfly, is not the silkworm’s death-like sleep in the cocoon an illusion?

[The students are all speechless at this revelation. And Yingtai understands but not truly, for what the monk has just said must be experienced. And in that moment of puzzlement, in which she thinks she understands his words, he smiles at her, and all she can do is nod.]

Yingtai:
Thank you, Venerable Master, thank you for your wisdom.

Master Suan:
Fear not, young man, true freedom can only be found in the heart… difficult but not unattainable. Your question has been answered but one day you will understand the answer. For now, follow your heart, and it will lead you to your dream. [He looks at all the eager and perplexed faces around him.] Alright, my young friends, I will take my leave now. [He pauses, and then to Yingtai] Butterflies are meant to be free… and will always be free. [He gets up and then walks away without turning back.]

[The students then start the Dance of the Lanterns. The dance gives thanks to the fullness of the moon and the wisdom imparting light that it gives. In the middle of the dance, Yin Xin enters with a letter for Yingtai which she reads. Her mood changes and she is a little disturbed. She takes a look at Shanbo who is watching her, and leaves. Shanbo follows. The dance continues until it comes to an end and everyone disperses.]

LIANG ZHU 9 Parting

Yingtai has been summoned to return by her parents. She is ready to leave and Shanbo has insisted that he accompanies her part of the way. Yin Xin and Si Jiu enter with two or three bundles. Si Jiu offers to help Yin Xin.

Si Jiu:
Here, Yin Xin, let me help you with some of that. Then you won’t feel too tired.

Yin Xin:
I won’t be too tired, Si Jiu, but thanks for asking.

Si Jiu:
I wonder how far my master will accompany Master Yingtai. I hope it will be as far as the pavilion where they first met.

[Shanbo and Yingtai enter. Their theme song comes up sad and full of pathos. They walk together, unable to express the turmoil within – so many things to say but so few words to say them with. They move together as if setting out on a journey: Dance of the Lovers. Unable to contain his feelings, Shanbo finds expression in poetry.]

Shanbo:
White clouds sail across the sky but no birds want to fly
The stream has been laughing but friends must say goodbye

Yingtai:
Autumn leaves fall in sorrow; falling to winter’s coming
The earth sleeps silent, waiting to greet the smile of spring

Shanbo:
The bamboo seeks the sky; sets its hopes so high
The willow bends and sighs, only the river hears it cry

Yingtai:
The wind knows the bamboo, softly its praises whistling
The river hears the willow, gurgles to its sighing

[They have reached the pavilion of destiny where they first met. Yin Xin and Si Jiu put down their luggage and sit by a tree, quietly watching their two masters – each feeling sad but not daring to voice their feelings. Shanbo and Yingtai enter and look around them, refreshed by the change of the surrounding trees and yet, sad at their imminent parting.]

Yingtai:
This is where we first met, Shanbo. Two scholars searching the path to knowledge…

Shanbo:
This is where we first met, Yingtai. Two friends bowing to each other with deep affinity… three autumns… [there is a lump in his throat]

Yingtai:
Three autumns: each one lovelier than the last. Under the moon, we set brush to paper, composed poems to windsong and zither, raised cups together as friends and brothers.

Shanbo:
Too soon the years have flown… we’ve filled our hearts with laughter, forgetting that this day will come… now duty has come calling, and return you must…

Yingtai:
Too deep our affection has grown… and now parting brings us sorrow, wishing there should be no tomorrow.

[There is a moment of silence. Both are thinking about what each will do without the other. Their eyes meet for a moment of eternity.]

Shanbo:
In a few days I will have to sit for the civil examination. If not for that, I will gladly accompany you all the way home… [He breaks off, unable to speak…] When I succeed in winning a position as magistrate’s officer, I shall come and visit you…

Yingtai:
Then when you come, Shanbo, I shall give you my twin sister’s hand in marriage so that our affection for each other will be sealed.

Shanbo: [he is speechless for a moment]
How generous you are, Yingtai. I am feeling sad and silly having to say goodbye to a good friend, and you are making me happy by offering your sister in marriage to me… how can I be so deserving?

Yingtai:
By just being you, Shanbo, patient, kindhearted, simple, honest and sincere…

Shanbo:
But how will she like me?

Yingtai:
Let me be the matchmaker. She is my twin sister and bound to like whom I like. She is a bit shy but when I tell her about you, she will accept you wholeheartedly.

Shanbo
When should I come to visit you, then?

Yingtai:
As soon as possible. As soon as you have achieved your position in court, come in your officer’s garb and claim my sister’s hand. This is a vow I am making to you now, sealing our affection and friendship.

Shanbo:
I accept, Yingtai. Let it be as you have spoken.

[There is a pause.]

Yingtai:
Now Shanbo, I must be on my way…

Shanbo:
And I must be on my way…

[Yingtai exits with Yin Xin as Shanbo and Si Jiu watch them go. Shanbo raises his hand to wave goodbye but then there is such a deep sense of emptiness that he lets it fall down by his side immediately. The theme music comes up again as the scene fades to black.]

LIANG ZHI 10 Dance of the Gift Bearers

The shrill sound of the long reedhorn and the following gongs herald the arrival of a wedding party. As the lights come on, we see a procession of gift bearers, all in auspicious red. There is a big show of the pomp and wealth that they are bringing with them, and people on the street are all totally impressed to say the least. After all, this is the Ma family, sending the wedding gifts to the Zhu family home. The gift bearers perform an exquisite dance that takes our breath away. It is so grand and elegant, it must be the most beautiful scene ever. In the middle of all this, Liang Shanbo enters, dressed as a court official, with the signature jade-decorated black hat. He watches the procession go by and is quite impressed himself. As the procession leaves, he asks a passerby for some directions, and then exits in the opposite direction.

LIANG ZHU 11 Match! No Match!

There is turmoil in the Zhu house. Without her knowledge Yingtai’s parents have accepted the proposal from the Ma’s for their son Ma Wen Cai. She is flabbergasted and is refusing her father’s command to marry Ma Wen Cai.

Zhu:
How dare you!? This is absolutely preposterous! This must be the best match of the century, and you are refusing it! What right have you to refuse it?

Yingtai:
You did not ask me, father. If this was to be my wedding, and I know it will not be, why wasn’t I told about it? You are talking about me getting married – that gives me the right to accept or to refuse! How could you do this behind my back?

Mdm Zhu:
Yingtai, you have always been a reasonable girl… and finding a match is both a duty and a privilege for parents. For your father, this is a very special joy… think of the honour and esteem the Zhu family will enjoy with this match.

Yingtai:
It seems that you have been thinking about honour and esteem but not me…

Zhu:
Ungrateful! I can see that we made a mistake sending you off to that school for three years. You have learned nothing. Instead of behaving as a good daughter, you behave as though you have not an iota of learning inside your head. For all the love and care your mother and I have showered upon you, you dare accuse me of thinking about honour and esteem and not you? Preposterous!

Mdm Zhu:
You mean finding the best match in the province for you is selfish of us?

[Yingtai is in tears now and tries to steel herself…]

Yingtai: [quietly]
I don’t want to be matched…

Mdm Zhu:
Then what are we supposed to do with all the gifts that the Ma have just sent…?

Zhu:
The whole province is up with excitement by just looking at the gifts… can you imagine what it will be like on the wedding day? And she doesn’t want to be matched.

Yingtai: [quietly]
Send them back.

Mdm Zhu:
What! Send them back? How can we send them back? What will people say? You want to make us the laughing stock of the province?

Zhu:
She’s possessed and gone off her senses! What have I done to her that she now repays my kindness with this stupid… this… this… you are just trying to kill me!

Mdm Zhu:
You better tell us the reason before your father bursts a blood vessel…

Yingtai:
I won’t marry Ma Wen Cai.

Mdm Zhu:
Why?

Yingtai:
Because I have Liang Shanbo…

Mdm Zhu:
And who is this Liang Shanbo…

Yingtai:
He and I were classmates for all these three years… and I have promised I will marry only him.

Mdm Zhu:
What! But you swore to me that you would not reveal your true identity to anybody? And you promised that you would keep to yourself, not letting anyone touch you! When you returned, you told me you kept your promise.

Yingtai:
Those promises I have kept to the letter. He doesn’t know that I am a girl!

Mdm Zhu:
That’s truly laughable! Then how have you promised that you will marry only him?

Yingtai:
I promised him my twin sister’s hand when he comes.

Mdm Zhu:
You don’t have a twin sister?

Yingtai:
Liang Shanbo is kind, gentle, honest and sincere. In these three years, being his classmate and roommate, I have discovered him to be a true gentleman, generous and sensitive, dutiful and talented. Mother, I did not tell him my true identity because I promised you. When we parted, I knew that I could give my heart only to him and no one else. I made him promise that he will visit me and I promised my twin sister to him – in my heart, I had promised myself to him…

Zhu:
This is so utterly ridiculous! I am not going to listen to it anymore. [He leaves the room angrily.]

Mdm Zhu:
Yingtai, I understand what you are saying… but such things are not done. Right now Liang Shanbo is not a reality but the gifts and the proposal from the Ma’s are. We cannot make these things disappear. This is a very serious matter, Yingtai. Can you imagine what will happen if we do send the gifts back. It will be a terrible insult to the Ma’s, the wealthiest family in the province… it will be very difficult for your father…

Yingtai:
To you Shanbo is not a reality but to me he is as real as my heartbeat. I don’t even know the Ma’s and it is not my intent to insult them. But I would rather die than be married to Ma Wen Cai.

Mdm Zhu:
Where is Liang Shanbo now?

Yingtai:
He will come… I know he will come. [A maid enters nervously, looks at Yingtai…]]

Maid:
Madam, Liang Shanbo has come to ask for our young master Zhu Yingtai.

Yingtai:
Liang Shanbo!

Mdm Zhu:
What a coincidence! Well, you’d better explain the whole situation to him. I hope he has more sense than you on this matter… I shall leave you alone. [She exits.]

LIANG ZHU 12 Reunion

[Yingtai quickly repairs her face, at once bewildered by the desperation of the situation as well as the joy and excitement of seeing Shanbo again. There is also the possible awkwardness of Shanbo seeing her as a girl for the first time. In order that it will not be too difficult for Shanbo when he arrives, she decided that she should stand not facing the doorway but with her back to it so that he would have at least a moment to collect himself upon seeing her. Shanbo enters. He sees her immediately and is a little puzzled that Yingtai is not there except this lady with his back to him.]

Shanbo: [apologetically]
Please forgive me for my intrusion but I thought I was being brought to see Brother Yingtai… [she turns around and smiles at him and he is momentarily stunned] He is not here and I have intruded… [he stops, now speechless, staring at Yingtai]

Yingtai:
Brother Liang… please come in and be seated..

Shanbo:
You call me the way Yingtai calls me! Amazing! How did you know that it is I? I know you must be Yingtai’s twin sister, seeing how much you look like him, but we have never met before.

Yingtai: [assuming a pose which she normally strikes while they are studying together]
White clouds sail across the sky; birds are winging high and free
Leaves are waving, trees are swaying; flowers blooming wild and free

Shanbo:
How did you know that song? Yingtai must have taught it to you. [she shakes her head] You sing it beautifully…

Yingtai: [she quotes from the poem they had composed upon parting]
Three autumns: each one lovelier than the last. Under the moon, we set brush to paper, composed poems to windsong and zither, raised cups together as friends and brothers.

Shanbo: [the memory comes pouring out; the words fall effortlessly from his tongue and it slowly dawns on him that…] Too soon the years have flown… we’ve filled our hearts with laughter, forgetting that this day will come… now duty has come calling, and return you must…

Yingtai: [she continues, staring into his eyes, waiting for that moment of full recognition]
Too deep our affection has grown… and now parting brings us sorrow, wishing there should be no tomorrow.

Shanbo: [amazed, but softly]
Yingtai!

Yingtai:
Shanbo.

Shanbo:
You are a girl… you’ve always been a girl.

Yingtai:
The girl with the butterfly dream…

Shanbo:
Dreaming you are a butterfly, thinking you are a human being… [silence]

Yingtai:
I see that you have succeeded. Congratulations. I am deeply touched that you remembered….

Shanbo:
You have always been a girl, Yingtai! [Still finding it incredible, after all these years.] My brother Zhu Yingtai whom I have lived and studied with for three years… I’ve been a fool… not knowing… how dull and stupid can I be!?

Yingtai:
No! please don’t say that… I did not mean to fool you… it was a disguise that was required of me… please forgive me, Shanbo…

Shanbo:
No, Yingtai, I do not mean that. I saw but I did not see… I knew but I did not know…how could I have… [he breaks off, shaking his head]

Yingtai:
Because you are a true gentleman; sincere and pure in your heart… those three years were the happiest time of my life… because I was with you. That was why, when we parted, I gave you that promise…

Shanbo:
You promised to match me with your twin sister so that our affection for each other will be sealed…

Yingtai:
I am my own twin sister… [he is now totally speechless; so amazed and deeply moved at the same time, he begins to laugh through his tears – that the friend whom he had loved all along will now be his beloved!]

Shanbo:
Zhu Yingtai, how glorious you are… how enchanting you are! Stupid me, haha ha! I saw so many things but I didn’t see… no, I didn’t see at all. [he gazes at her, still finding the whole thing incredible.] Now I have come in my officer’s garb… to redeem the promise from my brother Zhu for the hand of his twin sister Yingtai….


[Dance of Reunion : In a sweep of emotion, Shanbo begins to dance – the theme of the lovers sweeps them away, now in a reconciliation of their unexpressed feelings of love for each other – and Yingtai almost flies, almost free, almost like a butterfly… and when the music fades, there is a moment of eternity in which they gaze into each other’s eyes… until Yingtai remembers. And she looks away.]

Shanbo:
What is the matter, Yingtai?

Yingtai:
Though butterflies can fly, horses are far swifter
Though my heart is given, their gifts come faster

Shanbo:
What do you mean, Yingtai?

Yingtai:
I will marry no one else but you… [as she says this, the light changes… and the sound of the wedding procession is heard – the reedhorn blaring a sense imminent doom. Yingtai runs out in tears but she has to confront the wedding procession and the gift bearers.]

LIANG ZHU 13 Heartbreak

Dance of Separation: the gift bearers enter dramatically and we see Yingtai struggling to get away. In the midst of all this, Zhu Gongyuan and his wife play forceful roles in making her succumb. Yingtai struggles but to no avail. The dancers carry her away, and almost immediately returns, now dressed in black, and begin to crowd Shanbo. Their oppression overpowers him and he is finally left alone – crushed and broken on the ground.

The music has changed and we see him in a pool of light, surrounded by darkness. He tries to get up and the effort makes him cough painfully. He struggles with a handkerchief from his jacket to cover his mouth… with a heave and a spasm of pain… there is blood on the handkerchief.

The theme music is heard again, very sad and very slow. And in the half darkness, we can see Yingtai dancing slowly with another man who wears a mask. But her dance is that of a spiritless being, turned and twisted this way and that way. Sometimes there is resistance, a flicker of emotion but this immediately subsides behind the mask of emptiness. At one point, she faces Liang Shanbo and reaches out to him but is snatched away. The man lifts her above his head, triumphant but she looks lifeless! They leave. And Liang Shanbo, having seen all this, slowly gets up, coughs, and struggles away out of sight. We hear the dying wail of the violin as the light fades away.