Old Opera

I remember in my childhood, whenever there’s a temple fair in the village, villagers would always invite a troupe to perform grand operas for several days. This was the most fascinating and all-consuming entertainment at that time. When a village staged an opera, folks all-around the area would quickly gather, forming a spectacular scene. Especially those elderly over sixty years old, would spare no effort and never shy away from the bad weather, immediately immersing themselves in the familiar plots, dementedly forgetting the joys and sorrows of the world. During the daytimes, most audience was older people, but at nights, many young people would gather from all directions, making the occasion incredibly exciting. The sound of gongs and drums from the evening performance would travel far and wide through the quiet night, making it seem as if the performance was right in one's own village. The babble singing and the thunderous gongs and drums, even after decades, still ring in my ears nowadays, sonorous and lingering, immediately intoxicating me in the hazy memories, like a painting, like a dream, entwined and enduring, both present and elusive.