Adara Wasthuwa:

Illusions fade to bare bitterness

Reviewed by Dilshan Boange

Love; it is perhaps the most elusive of human states of emotion that defies finality in definition. And a topic that never fades out from the human mind's curiosity. But how can love be defined in terms of its manifold manifestations that differentiate on the basis of the relationships between the people who share that love? Is there anything called unconditional love between 'lovers'? When a physical relationship of intimacy is a key objective in a relationship is there anything called love or was it merely a complex construction driven by lust?

Sitting in the gentle darkness at the Wendt on the opening night of veteran playwright and director Rajitha Dissanayake's latest creation to the theatre Adara Wasthuwa titled in English as Love object, I was struck by a line delivered by the character of Madahvi which says to the effect that 'Love is an illusion we trick ourselves into knowingly'.

Knowing the following Rajitha has among theatregoers I have no doubt that much discussion will ensue in the days ahead as Adara Wasthuwa comes to life in theatres in Sri Lanka. And what I find most praiseworthy about this new production is its intenseness in terms of being bound to the present day political climate and delivering a critique of what is around us, here and now.

To those who consciously watch the play the two principal male characters Navin and Suren will surely be identifiable in terms of two very real, actual, living people who are making notable headway in their respective fields of work and activism in the current political landscape.

Navin and Suren

The character of Navin, a senior university lecturer, enjoying the additional position of an advisor to a government ministry may become instantly familiar as a character who carries dimensions of a certain outspoken, articulate, charismatic academic of the political science discipline. He is don from the hallowed halls of the Colombo University.

To those of us who see Suren develop on stage, realising his position as a man now in the echelons of power is as one whose rise had been meteoric, and seeing his line of business we may not be able to help but be reminded of a certain media mogul of today whose rise to prominence has been awe-inspiring. And again how the hallowed halls of the Colombo University are linked to this person as well, did not escape my mind. The perseverance that has taken him very far in life today makes him undoubtedly a 'victorious hero'.

What also strikes one, in going to the root of dissecting the ingredients of the characters that connect with actually identifiable people, is that the playwright too is after all from that very same seat of learning -the Colombo University. But of course how much of what we see unfold on stage in Adara Wasthuwa is meant to actually mirror living people and events that Rajitha may or may not know personally is anyone's guess. As much as a reviewer can speculate and claim a right to do so, he should not also be hasty to attempt to write verdicts and pronouncements of finality. Especially not as with matters as delicate as what this play offers as part of the crux of its critique.

Love and its antithesis

Is hate the antithesis of love? If so can we ever truly hate a person whom we claim to have truly loved? This is a central introspective question that Rajitha raises in his story. Pondering on this matter I'm reminded of what my paternal uncle Yasantha Boange who bears a reputation as a sculptor specialising in wood carvings, once told me, which was, that in his conceptions, 'Love is hate, hate is love.' The belief that both these emotions are so intense that they originate from the same 'root' is what was at the crux of what he said. This gives us a glimpse I feel symbolically of the undeniable duality, the dichotomy, the Jekyll and Hyde that is true in humans.

'Love' at the age of 40 isn't 'love' at the age of 16, says Navin at one point when he is badgered by Vidura the unrelenting student union activist who keeps demanding Navin's 'stance' in writing to a proposed bill on education reform. What Navin is rebutted with by Vidura is that love at 40 is about trying to 'score' with young girls who are around the age of 16. This showed the common perception about how the 'naughty forties' tag can get deduced into the picture very hastily when a person who has hit 40 speaks of 'love' and that being more so when the man concerned is a 'university lecturer'.

Love and power

This play thereby also speaks of the topic of how relationships between female students and lecturers characterise an aspect of the university system and the politics that build therein. Following this line of discussion I'd like to express that Rajitha's play isn't purely about love looked at posited in the psychological premise. The play explores love as an emotion in connection with personal relationships and power. And also how 'desire' translates into another form of 'love'.

Suren is a man whose desire for power and position makes him something of a man in love with his ambitions. One needs only think of those words ascribed to Napoleon who had supposedly said -'Power was my mistress'. Navin comes off as the more humane power seeker who will not subscribe to Suren's outlook which negates all personal bonds where power and the price of power are at stake. Although friends since undergrad days in campus Suren after all shows that he isn't beyond pulling the trigger on Navin if need be. And while all this goes on, the detailed revelation of how the plan to oust the government in power through the support of the mass media which includes both Suren and Navin as key players, Madhavi safely eavesdrops hiding behind a bookshelf out of Suren's sight.

The binding past

Madhavi may seem the typical story of the female undergrad who falls for the alluring young lecturer whose larger than life personality on campus draws female admirers who realise later they were just moths who made the power of the flame proven to the world around. But what I think is admirable in the character of Madhavi is that her expectation from her lover was not the demand of marriage as an unpronounced tethering on grounds of decency and moral obligation, but to be sincerely appreciated and be treated with considerateness.

Between these two lovers who meet after much water has flowed under the bridge what may be openly spoken happens in a different context as individuals. They are no longer in that previous framework of relationships where institutionalism and the power relations that come into being exist. Madhavi is no longer an undergrad. But the hold that her past as Navin's 'girlfriend' has on her reinforces that memory of power Navin had over her. A power that was curiously blended with a love that had an institutional presence involved.

Marriages and conspiracies

As Suren steps out the door we hear gunshots. Suspicions of whether information about their anti-government activities had already been leaked to the regime is possibly answered at that point. But of course Navin's only words to Madhavi are to 'go safely'. There at that point I feel is where the space to speak of a love that is characterised by caring for the lover comes visibly. However, that is the very point when the play ends with the stage gaining darkness and the spotlight falling on Navin who stands motionless to the audience.

A very noteworthy point brought out by Navin, played effectively by Shyam Fernando, is that love is about trying to own what is not possible to own. Madhavi accuses Navin of deceitfulness and never really having had any love for her except when he got into bed with her.

Navin presumes her accusations are based on the fact that his relationship with her was one intended never to lead to matrimony. Given our cultural outlook and values one may ask is marriage the culmination of a love shared deeply between two people, or could it be the end of that love? It is, I feel, a question not without valid ground, though perhaps not as readily answered in society.

Conspirators beware

What I'm driven to wonder given the explosiveness of the nature of the conspiracy Suren and Navin are involved in what sort of messaging is the audience to read out of the play? Is Rajitha trying to tell us that all plots against a regime are doomed to fail at some point? Or is he trying to say that whoever takes a plunge into the deep end of the water, better make sure his training wasn't done in the baby pool! These are some of the hard hitting highly politically charged underpinnings in Adara wasthuwa.

I don't know to what extent Rajitha intended or didn't, but the subtext of the play shows a form of love that is common to every one of the characters in that play, which is the love for oneself. One's personal progress in life is certainly a factor that motivates them towards their choices in life. In this respect perhaps every individual's unfailing 'object of love' is oneself. It is for the record merely what I critically read from the performance.

In respect of stagecraft what is seen in Adara Wasthuwa is a very conventional plan where narrative techniques of theatre have not been exploited to richly texture the play's text. In this respect this play doesn't offer the viewer those effects one finds in Rajitha's previous plays such as Apahu Harenna Baha or Veeraya Marila. But the almost claustrophobic setup that runs the full length of the play infers a more jarringly realistic approach shedding all the distractions and diversions that usher in moments of relief.

No, Rajitha doesn't offer much relief to the viewer from the bitterness of the pill that is surreptitiously thrust down our throat. The subject called love is not always chocolaty. It is bitter sweet. But the after taste the playwright constructs to linger is the bitterness of love when read in the context of power relations. A bitterness seen as hate. And perhaps the playwright saw no reason to sugar it. Since after all there are enough illusions that blind us to bitter truths, as it is.