Emma Performs in Kerala

How it all began
It all started really on the first day we arrived at Natanakairali. I begrudgingly admit that I was given fair warning. Venuji had said that the condition for studying there as a foreigner was to give a presentation of some kind, a small performance "very casual" he assured me. Ok, I say with great apprehension. It seems a fair enough exchange but I was completely unprepared to give any kind of performance. But after that first mention the subject is left aside and I foolishly decide not to worry about it too much. Every once in a while though, Venuji will drop it back into a conversation in my presence "Yes it was a good show, next will be Emma." Since he had gotten it in is head that I do mime I decide that the 20 movements I learned at the Lecoq school in Paris would be the most appropriate, most interesting to Venuji. I offer the suggestion and he seems fine with it "yes, yes, anything you want" I explain that it is just an exercise, that I do not have the means here for a full performance of any kind "no problem, it is just to show something." Ok, so I am relieved. 20 movements, no problem, I know them well I'll just practice once a day every day between now and the show. But wait, now he wants a picture and a short biography to send to the press. The PRESS?! Woah, woah, woah. Of course! He is insistent, this is serious. I explain that the 20 movements are just 10 minutes, very short, more of a demonstration than a performance. At last he understands but is not dissuaded- I must simply perform more. The show will be next week. I tap my resources, searcing what I know for what I can put together in a short time and present to an audience curious to see my culture, what I do, whre I come from, how it is different from and similar to theirs. We agree I will perform a monologue from Shakespeare, the 20 movements, and also a solo dance (which I will prepare in the next week). Suddenly my days are stuffed. In all my previously spare time (of whihc I admittedly had quite a bit) I now work on my upcoming showing.
Unwarranted Fame
Two days before the show my picture appears in the major malayalam newspaper (I've saved the clipping but don't know the details of what the announcement says). That same day one of my Mohiniyattam classmates has invited me back to her house to taste some of the succulent mangoes in her yard. Her mother is very kind, asking what I do, where I'm from. Then Sandra, my classmate decides the best way to show her mother who I am is to bring her the newspaper turned to the page with my picture. There is suddenly a new light in her eyes when she looks at me. Then her father arrives and before he is even in the door the mother is showing him the paper, looking between me and it and I hear them say several times "american, american." I stand by bashfully. Oh my goodness, this is really not what it appears. I am just me, I swear, I am only here to learn and to eat mangoes with your daughter, I am not anyone famous or important. Still, he insists on driving me to my afternoon errands and returning me by car to Natanakairali. His kindness is sincere but I am still embarassed by the newspaper.
Don't the floors look fresh?
So it is at last the day of the show. I have been told there has been a lot of response to the announcement, that many people are planning to come, including 3 actors from Trivandrum which is 6 hours away. No pressure.
So I am going to spend the day in preparation. I go to the performance pavilion to rehearse and am met by an unusual surprise. In the center of the floor where the chairs will be set for the audience there is a heaping pile of fresh cow dung...
Hm. I cannot imagine what it is doing there. And of all the days for it to serve its purpose (whatever that may be) this seems an odd one to choose. Still, I have grown quite used to going with the flow and I make no exception today. I begin to rehearse surrounded by the distinct barn smell. Then one of the servant women comes in with a hand broom and a bucket of water and, under my Teacher's initial directions and to my great wonder, begins to carefully spread the pile out over the floor, meticulously coating every inch of it.
Aha. I remain bewildered until lunch when I take a break. I am sitting outside having my meal and talking with Kapila, the daughter of the house and a performer herself when she asks me "Don't the floors look fresh?" Well,I think to myself, that's one way to say it. But I don't think we are imagining the word "fresh" in the same way. She notices my hesitation. "You don't like the smell, do you?" Well, no it's not that, it smells like a barn, which is fine, it's just, um, Why? She explains that it is antibacterial, that all the traditional floors are treated in this way to kill germs. I am loving it but she misinterprets. "You don't like it?" No no it's just unexpected, a little unusual, how do I say this? For me, to clean a floor by spreading shit all over it is just, well, it's just..."crazy" she offers. Yes. Exactly. It's just crazy. But there you go. Now I have a greater appreciation of the straw sitting mats.
The Show
Went very well in the end. There were maybe 20 or more people there. Mostly men, who seem to regularly make up the majority of audiences here, but I was happy to see one of my dance friends (12 year old Parvati) and the cook Suchata and Ammama and a few other women from outside. I filled a full 40 minutes for Venuji and was presented at the end with a brass plate depicting Shiva, god of dance and a copy of Venuji's book on Kuttiyattam. At the end of the show I offered to speak with anyone who had questions about my training or approach to theater. With this news I was quickly brought a chair at the front of the house and everyone stayed for a post-show discussion, accompanied by cookies and bananas. This discussion turned out to be really fascinating and a highlight of my time here. The questions were observant and sincere, provoking me to discover answers I did not know I had.

Ah, but now I am in Delhi and must run to catch a train to Mussorie. But there is more to come on this. Next up a puppet show and a TV appearance, then a performance in a small rural town where I unintentionally get an agent for my next trip to Kerala.
so, to be continued...