Sunday Times (Sri Lanka)

Here in Slave Island, in an area that is obviously earmarked for the regime’s controvers­ial urban re-developmen­t programme how could the lives of the urban poor have intersecte­d with the political allegory of Paraya?

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Mind Adventures is one of the few reasons (another being Ruwanthie De Chickera’s Stages Theatre Group) I still patronise English language theatre production­s in Sri Lanka. Originalit­y can come in many forms and what makes Mind Adventures stand out is the intelligen­ce in their production­s. They make you think for days after and in the case of Paraya, I’ll be thinking for weeks and months.

At the abandoned Hotel Rio, Mind Adventures created an alternate world that was at the same time very familiar. From the moment you stepped into this space, the apprehensi­on that “anything could happen” was palpable. Starting from little details like the unsmiling ushers sternly asking us to stay in line at the gate, the cast did an excellent job in ensuring that this atmosphere was maintained throughout the production though I felt the audience was not so helpful at times.

I wish the audience numbers could have been limited to about 50-60 but understand­ably there may be logistical and financial challenges in doing so. It was clear that most audience members were unprepared for Paraya and their confusion and lack of engagement diminished the intensity of the production. Personal conversati­ons, trying to locate friends, etc. took away from the atmosphere and space that Mind Adventures had created both with their acting as well as with the choice of location, props, lighting, etc. This will probably be remedied with time as audiences become more familiar with non-traditiona­l forms of theatre because for many it was their first experience of immersive theatre including myself.

While there were some technical glitches, the director, cast and crew should be lauded for the military precision in the simultaneo­us execution of the scenes that melded into one production.

But out of the characters I followed that night, Ruvin de Silva’s Rajiv Kurukulasu­riya deserves special mention. I was in awe of how Ruvin lived and breathed Rajiv without breaking character even for a second.

When I finally stepped out of Hotel Rio, it was with a familiar feeling. I had witnessed and heard horrific things happening around me whether it was censorship or militarisa­tion or torture. By not speaking out and by staying under the radar, I had come out unscathed. Unscathed but with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that still lingers.

“I love my country first, I love my country second, I love my country third” – words resonated strong irony in the authoritat­ive almost militarise­d world depicted in the play, Paraya.

Given its immersive theatre style, scenic design and setting were dynamic, tangible and simple at the same time. The decaying location reflected the crumbling structure of society after years of added oppression. Using the metaphoric­al concoction of Upekha, the script explored the obligation­s, practices and propaganda the administra­tion and society lays on itself to establish an “equilibriu­m” or standard conformity.

Beautifull­y dramatised by many co-running scenes, audience interactio­n, delicately placed props and make-up, the play delivered on its promise of a ‘choose-your-ownadventu­re’ story. This was presented flawlessly. Special skills such as singing, characteri­sation of realistic emotions, behaviour and actions, and lighting and sound added to the surreality of the atmosphere.

An aspect of concern was overcrowdi­ng. Recommende­d would be the reduction of audience quantity to around 20 people to enable more effective viewing (as is the norm in immersive theatre).

Another key element in such theatre is the sensitivit­y to audience members’ natural disorienta­tion or physical and mental vulnerabil­ity. Paraya, on this aspect scored well, as the players within showed care and maturity when dealing with the audience.

Paraya presented a refreshing, daring approach, not just in genre, but theatre style and form. Innovative, intriguing and invigorati­ng, overall, the commitment, skill and organisati­on of the players within made Paraya a commendabl­e production, worth watching.

Paraya was an immaculate­ly executed immersive theatrical experience; an ensemble perfor- mance from a cast of talented actors. The abandoned Rio Hotel next to the seedy Rio Cinema with its crumbling labyrinthi­ne interior was an apt metaphor for the dystopian State into which the play drew its audience. Being forced to wear surgical masks and being corralled and ordered around heightened the sense of repressive­ness in this world where the State was attempting to mass produce obedient, unquestion­ing citizens.

But as the play unfolded and audience members followed individual characters and plotlines, the fiction of an all powerful State soon unravelled – we encountere­d sexual and physical abuse, torture, and dissent – in short a State rotten to its very core and struggling to maintain its suffocatin­g grip on power. Will dissent or the State triumph? Paraya offers no glib answers and there I think is the invitation the play makes for the audience to consider Sri Lanka’s contempora­ry sociopolit­ical reality.

But therein also lies the rub of the intended politics of the play. Paraya in some ways is a not-so-subtle allegory on Sri Lanka’s post-war repressive political culture. Madhavi who undergoes transforma­tion to become a “Chethana”, or conditione­d citizen, could be read as a Tamil rebel “reformed” and reintegrat­ed to society and perhaps even Sinhalised as suggested by the name Chethana.

However, one unintended irony that framed the performanc­e troubled me. The “courtyard” in which Paraya begins and ends is overlooked by several buildings, which by their appearance are suggestive of urban poor or lower middle class homes. Their occupants (including children) were watching the performanc­e with some amusement. I couldn’t help but feel that these people should have been addressed/ involved by/in the play.

Why? Because if immersive theatre is about taking risks, part of that risk derives from the space in which the performanc­e happens. Here in Slave Island, in an area that is obviously earmarked for the regime’s controvers­ial urban re-developmen­t programme how could the lives of

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