![]() Our journey, is a search For the Korraththi (gypsy woman), with the colour of dust, smell of mud. Our angel, wanders, collecting paper from rubbish Spreading her hair, all over. We have come to act, with a thin slice of light We are clowns, with sky as our home Lying low beneath the wind. We give solace, to those without direction, without land As running train. We have started, with torn umbrellas, with holes, Everyone come, under our leaking umbrellas. We bring wet stickiness masks That peel faces, made of paper and stained clothes. Let the music, of the clowns, melt the weapons that surround angels, country after country. For the bird-raced actors, directions are wings. ![]() Sisters, carers, blow and blow, ancient songs, of prayer, to ignite dying embers, Bringing forth language of clowns that set up our world, spectacular. We begin, in the rehearsal space, to parody, the politics of surveillance, Foolish leaders, stories of war The extreme pain, in the paths, everywhere, of modern history.We are, mother, to the audience. Clowns, we have lost, truly, to children Who infuse life, into the music, in the moistness of the roots of the trees. Performers, we have come, opening the forest. Playwright, Design & Direction : S Murugaboopathy Manalmagudi Theatre Land, Kovilpatti, Tamil Nadu Maayakkomaalikalin Jaalakannadi – Play in Tamil
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