Sometimes you think you have it together, composure-wise. Master of a calm and impenetrable self. But then a single gesture, or word, or look (or combination of these) twists something vital, and suddenly everything is at the surface. Bad situations do this in a way that can hurt. Good art does this in a way that can allow healing.

The gesture (here undisclosed) which turned Belvoir’s opening night audience into a small symphony of snifflers was made by Gowrie, the proud mother at the heart of The Jungle and the Sea: a three-hour, two-interval play, and a sweeping saga of one family’s love and loss during the bloody chaos of the Sri Lankan civil war. It is performed by Anandavalli, an internationally renowned Sri Lankan-born dancer and educator, who is behind the play’s choreography, and also happens to be the mother of one of the two playwrights, S. Shakthidharan. There are many strong women in this play, but the majesty and the dignity which Anandavalli brings to her role is nonpareil.

The Jungle and the Sea

Anandavalli in The Jungle and the Sea, Belvoir, 2022. Photo © Sriram Jeyaraman

I tend to...