Wayang Wong shows connection between arts of Indonesia and India

After my visit to Singapore last month, I visited Kuala Lumpur to see my friend Ramli Ibrahim, a celebrated Odissi, Bharatanatyam and Contemporary dance exponent — a choreographer with his brilliant dancers of the Sutra Foundation, of which he is founder-director. We had planned to go to Yogyakarta to see classical dance-drama of Java at the suggestion of our friend, Alex Dea, a musician, ethnographer, music composer, writer and an authority on Javanese music and allied arts.

Arriving by morning flight from Kuala Lumpur to Yogyakarta, we were settled in the moderate Tulips hotel on a well-known street — Jalan Tirtodipuran. The architecture at once draws the attention of the visitor as apart from the big metropolis as one does not see any high-rise buildings. The peaceful atmosphere prepared one for the evening performances, which we were looking forward to seeing.

I had been to Indonesia twice earlier, and had visited Kraton, the palace of the Sultan. I had seen in the gallery a portrait of Prince Tedjoekoesoemo (I used to make it easy in Sanskrit as Tejokusumo) from whom Mrinalini Sarabhai had studied Javanese dances. Also nearby the famous temples of Prambanam, some 50 km away, Sonal Mansingh and I had seen the Ramayana performances in Javanese styles against the background of three temple towers. Sonal and I had also seen at Kraton, the performance of dance-drama, Arjuna Vivaha. That was nearly two decades ago.

Therefore, when Alex Dea gave us a brief account of the present developments of Wayang Wong, we were excited to see in a spacious pavilion at a nearby school, the performances.

The crowd sits on three sides of the pavilion on chairs. In the centre sit the musicians and artists who play gamelan. Women singers dressed up in beautiful batik costumes, and male musicians wearing pugrees. The entire pavilion was lit up with lights. Since Alex was known to the performing groups, we were lucky to get seats in front. That helped me in taking a few photographs.

We were lucky also as the opening dance-drama was based upon a story from the Mahabharata — “Pandawa Laku Jantra”. Though the libretto was in Javanese and the programme book was also containing the synopsis in Javanese, we were able to follow the main sequences, having known the major story of the Mahabharata. Of course, the adaptation of the Mahabharata’s story had many variants, but one could follow with the entry and actions of the characters.

Wayang Wong are spectacular dance-dramas which were created for the celebrations of the Sultan’s birthdays, weddings and other special events. The Kakawin language is a storehouse of rich Javanese literature. And stories are therefore well known. The costumes for mostly male dancers are brownish black batik sarong and black velvet bodice for women, while the men dance with bare torsos. Also they wear jewellery and a crown or tiara skilfully cut in gilt leather with the model of the headdress revealing the rank of the character. The overall aesthetics they follow is of Wayang Kulit, the shadow puppet form.

The characterisation is depicted with facial make up. The masks are only worn by the demon and monkey figures. The slightly stylised make up is light for the noble male and female roles and red for the strong and coarse types. The facial make up of the servant clowns is usually white. The bodies of characters are covered with a yellowish liquid giving the skin a soft golden glow. When the characters enter from two sides, the impact is dazzling and takes one’s breath away.

Traditional Wayang Wong plots or “lakons” are 19th century-written librettos mainly, as noticed earlier, based on the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. In Java, these originally Indian epics are regarded as national literature, and have given rise to new and purely Javanese stories which no longer have much to do with the original epic context. One notices for example, Lakon Rama Nitis — Prince Rama portrayed as an incarnation of Prince Rama of the Ramayana as is Lord Krishna of the Mahabharata!

Historically, the rise of this tradition took place from the mid-18th century. At that time, there was also Dutch domination. The Bedhaya dance and Topeng mask theatre which started from the Mataram kingdom flourished. The ancient Majapahit dynasty saw Wayang Kulit puppet art, which had the same narrative material and often from the two Indian epics. Even the movements of the actor clearly imitated the puppets. Therefore, watching the dance-dramas, one notices two dimensional movements designed to the left and the right like the movements of the puppets on the screen. Like Wayang Kulit, Wayang Wong is also accompanied by a large scale court gamelan orchestra.

The performances took place for court ceremonies and large spectacles were staged on occasions such as those noticed earlier for the Sultan’s coronation or weddings or birthdays. The Sultan of Yogyakarta was identified with the Hindu god Vishnu. It is noted that last full-scale performances were staged in 1939 and since they were extremely expensive, the Sultan had borrowed money from the Dutch!

Originally, male members of the royal family, courtiers and bodyguards, took part in the dance-dramas. In Surakarta, Solo, Pangeran Adipati Mangkunegaran I, rival of Hemengkubuwana I, the creator of Wayang Wong, also began to compose Wayang Wong plays. Looking at the Surakartan Wayang Wong tradition of Mangkuwangaran Kraton, one notices that Yogyakarta and Surakarata traditions differ. In Surakarata, females played female roles, and also those of noble heroes. With undulating movements, the Surakarata dance style, we were told, is more subdued than the Yogyakarta style. There are also differences in costumes and in gamelan accompaniment.

The movements are fluid and solemn. The structure is dictated by the gamelans’ soft and elaborate fabric of sound, further elaborated by the recitation, songs and comments of the chorus. Symmetrical movements indicate strength, stability and above all, humility. Asymmetrical movements, a sign of pride and powerful energy.

The performance we saw on the first night began with the Pandavas and Kauravas entering from either side, in their costumes. While the Kauravas had their faces coloured red and their hair was streaming in front, the Pandavas were sedate and looked noble. The two characters, one, presumably Yudhishthira and the other Shakuni, representing the Kauravas, took the centre-stage — a servant brought the dice and the game began. On our left were seated the Kauravas and on the right, the Pandavas. There were shouts on the side of the Kauravas — evidently they were winning the game. Soon characters with fierce looks entered the stage from the left and from the other side entered Draupadi, extremely beautiful, with royal garments and a tiara, and she sat demurely. When Dussashana tried to touch her, she raised her arm and Dussashana retreated. Draupadi appeared angry and the orchestral music was loud. Then in a quick flip movement, Dussashana dragged the upper cloth of Draupadi, and she got up and moved to the right side of the audience facing her and moved away. It was suggested that he had disrobed her.

Then the final tumultuous war started between the two clans and there were exits by the two groups sitting, facing the audience and gracefully getting up.

The sequence of Dussashana-vadha follows the Indian Mahabharata story. Bhima is seen at the centre-stage and a group of women bring Draupadi, who is made to sit on a stool in the centre. On the floor is the dead body of Dussashana from whose stomach, Bhima takes blood and anoints Draupadi’s hair. She has a serene expression, and after three or four times of applying blood to her hair, conveying the vow taken by Draupadi that she would not tie her hair till they were anointed in Dussashana’s blood, she gently gets up and moves to the right, and along with her several other characters leave the stage. Every time they leave the stage, they sit down and face the audience and then get up and slowly leave the stage.

The role of sutradhara was played by senior artiste R.M. Mario Neskendraru Rudianto. The synopsis was in Javanese so it was difficult to know what variations were from the Indian Mahabharata.

On the second night, the dance-drama seemed to be about the fight with the Sultan and his enemies. It was not easily understood by Ramli and I. Alex said that it was derived from Hikayat Andaken Panurat, similar to the Shahnama. The large cast was full of several characters and with various types of make up — it suggested different characters.

But the one which drew our interest was the following performance of Durga Ruwat. Not that I could follow the complete story. But we saw Lord Shiva and Parvati in the centre-stage in an amorous state, suggesting in our Indian aesthetic terms, Shringara rasa. Then, in a gesture, when Shiva pulled the sarong of Parvati, she got angry and left Shiva. Later on, she takes a different incarnation. Accompanied by several maids, she appears repenting — that is what I gathered from the action — perhaps seeking the forgiveness of the Lord. As per the story unfolding, it appeared that she took the incarnation of Durga. But Alex Dea was not sure about the story. I think we saw a sequence when Arjuna was doing penance to obtain the Pashupatastra from Lord Shiva who is in the guise of a hunter who kills the boar and Arjuna also aimed his arrow which struck the boar and claimed it as his kill. Revealing his original form as Lord Shiva, he gives the Pashupatastra to Arjuna. I was trying to make this out from the actions and
the gestures of offering salutations by Arjuna to Lord Shiva.

It was on the third night that we were treated to a story of Kumbhakarna vadha, titled “Kumbhakarna Gugur”. The entrance by the demon Kumbhakarna, brother of Ravana, was dramatic. He wore a black mask. The other retinue of Ravana’s court also entered. Kumbhakarna moves on to centre-stage and is seated on a throne and falls asleep. When the war starts, we are introduced to Vibhishana, who wears noble make up. The play had a large cast of young children playing the roles of monkeys. The war sequences were shown and the attack on Kumbhakarna by a stream of monkeys was enacted with great glee, when he was asleep.

Finally, from a distance, Rama shoots an arrow which falls on Kumbhakarna and he falls on the floor. There is the usual jubilation on the part of the army of monkeys when Kumbhakarna is killed.

In the end, the entire cast takes a curtain call when the actor who played the role of Kumbhakarna stood with other dancers, removing the mask. The thunderous applause was indicative of the popularity of the play.

I was confused to learn about the role of Kunti, when Alex took us backstage to meet a refined dancer who played the role of Kunti. She had appeared in the play of Durga Ruwat. She also could not explain exactly how Kunti appears in that episode. Alex told us that she was in the United States when Balasaraswati was having a residence there, and this young lady, as a child, was with her mother who was learning under Bala. She told us that Bala took great care of her. We also met another renowned artiste who played the role of Shiva. When we went to the large hall, which was like a green room, we saw several actors were putting on make up and costumes. I realised that it was on a very large scale that the actors were engaged in these dance-drama troupes. We also met the great grand-daughter of Prince Tejokusumo.

Alex told us to visit the museum Negeri Sonobudoyo near the palace. The visit to the palace was rewarding. We saw the huge pavilion where for the Sultan, the Wayang Wong was staged and the original gamelan instruments all placed in order. The gallery had royal portraits, but it was closed, so I could not take photographs of Prince Tejokusumo. But we saw excellent Wayang Kulit puppets, masks, costumes and also a split door of a Bali temple. The museum containing a collection of traditional batik was full of a variety of patterns. Outside the palace were vast grounds where fairs are held and Yogyakarta wears a festive look. Near Kraton, in Puawisata Amphi Theatre every night since 1976, the Ramayana ballet is staged from 8 till 9.30 pm. Big hoardings of the troupe which has played the Ramayana for the past 42 years were displayed outside the museum.

The market is a must for any visitor and Ramli bought exquisite Batik material and typical Sultan’s court-style shirts along with sarongs which we wore to relish the joy of visiting Yogyakarta.

Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore’s Shantiniketan and Yogyakarta’s well known Taman Siswa educational institutions were in close contact with each other. Gurudev Tagore loved Indonesian dances. So rich was the experience of watching these dance-dramas, where amazing as it may sound and appear, the Muslim Sultans have nurtured the traditions of India and its two epics, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. Watching these aesthetic presentations, one realises how Indonesia and India are so closely connected through these performing arts.

The writer is an eminent dance historian