Lakmé

I've only heard pieces of the opera and never realised what it was about or what the name of the opera is. Lakmé, named after the daughter of a conservative Hindu Brahmin in the times of British India, the story is one of love, beauty and tragedy. 

Perhaps the most famous score was made more famous by the British Airways "boarding music" in the late 1990s. The "Flower Duet" is only one of the dozens of poetic and melodic pieces of the opera about unexpected and forbidden love between people from two different cultural backgrounds whose thoughts and souls are so intricately linked yet whose backgrounds, duties, families tear them asunder. 

The original lyrics is written in French, and simultaneously displayed along side the english translation as the opera singers sing on stage. Again, I discovered what a rich and profound language French is, fueling my desire to want to continue improving it. The words are clear, flowery and flow smoothly to touch you deeply and enrich your senses an passions and very core as a human being. 

Tragedy it is, and in the end one  lover must die. But this is preceded by countless exchanges and declarations of their love for one another. I sat there and watched and teared at some points, terribly moved and yet also terribly reminded of my own love tragedy, one that seems to drag on and on and have no end in sight-- a tragedy and constant source of distraction and haunting that I cannot dispel and seems to affect only me deeply now. And that is tragic to be tangled in emotions that do not die, be tormented by memories and hopes that do not fade, and to seemingly be the only one left who feels this way and knows how it feels to be afraid to love again, to be distrustful of everyone, because the hurt was too deep, because the hurt comes from within and comes from myself.

The opera ends with the male lead clinging onto the limp body of the heroine. He mourns her death, suicide because she wrongly thought that she had lost him to honour and duty of serving his country temporarily. She is no more. But he too cannot live any more. Only the priest, the gorl's father sings out loud: may the heavens take her and welcome her to eternal life away from the sufferings and miseries of the world...

Sous le dome epais ou le blanc jasmin 
A la rose s'assemble, 
Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin, 
Viens, descendons ensemble. 
Lentement glissons, sur le flot charmant, 
Et d'une main nonchalante 
Ridons doucement 
L'onde fremissante ; 
Viens, gagnons le bord 
Oil la source dort, 
Ou I'oiseau chante...