though the knees are always slightly flexed.
There is a perpetual undulation of the trunk, and corresponding harmonious
motion of every limb, while the head rises above it with extraordinary
dignity and grace like a flower on its stalk. The eyes are never lifted
from the ground, which increases the dream like feeling. There is
a certain resemblance to the Serimpi dance in the courts of Middle
Java, but the tempo of the Redjang is even slower. Only on the first
of each sixteen beats is a step taken forward. One has the impression
of a being that glides without volition by the sole impulsion of its
breath. The fans only, flutter once in sixteen beats, for the space
of four beats, but they are always slightly in motion, lifted and
turned behind and in front and carried to cheek level. The fingers
lift or droop like flower petals, so light is their touch. Every word
seems too heavy to describe the wafting forward of the infinitely
slow cortege, each slightly different from the other, though they
move as one. A lovely profile, a bewildering turn of wrist or quivering
of bent-back fingers, a leaning into space which takes one's breath
away: these distinguish one from another. The gamelan melody to which
the Redjang is danced is an old one, subtle, smooth, mysterious as
the dance, and with a similar feeling of infinity.
The Redjang at Batoean is occasionally given as a kind of ballet during
a Parwa, the Redjang dancers playing the part of the Devatas or lesser
goddesses. This is perhaps the best form of all in which to see it,
for the wonderful cortege of dancers, who seem to float like water-lilies
attached to roots far below, contrast in their smooth, untroubled
motion with the violent passions of the demigods who strive about
them.
|
