Jingshan is the back garden of the Ming and Qing dynasties’ palace, the commanding point of the city and the people's Park today. Walking into the park, I can hear the familiar songs of my generation. The tunes and lyrics are full of praise and passion, but also full of anger and hatred, which instantly take me back to the socialist era of beautiful fantasy...
In the garden of flower season, the flowers are blooming, the songs and dances are flourishing, and the troubles of life dissipate immediately, just like a soul longing for redemption floats into the paradise. A poem says: Seeking peace in flourishing place and spending this lifetime in light cloud and floating water...
Parks are places where people escape from the reality and heal their loneliness and pain. Here with flowers blooming, green trees spreading and mountain rocks surrounding, the painful soul has been consoled, delighted, released and saved. In the flourishing blossom, people dancing and singing, are recollecting their time of arrogance and excitement...
In early 2019, I visited Jingshan almost every weekend to record all kinds of happenings in the park with my mobile phone. Later, I only focused on those who were dancing and singing. They were well organized and had specific division of roles, including conductors, singers, dancers and accompanists. Most people, in their 60s and 70s, exuded a strong air of Cultural Revolution in their singing, expressions and performances. Most of the songs they sang and danced were popular in that era. They were either in small or large groups. Occasionally some activists would guest play in other groups. “we are from all corners of the country to come together for a common revolutionary goal...". Singing and dancing brought them back into the burning years of passion.
In a trance, I thought, how many loitering spirits and wild ghosts had been taken in by this "back garden" and how many lonely souls had been comforted here? How many past events can the present crowd look back, how much passion can they arouse, and how many springs and autumns can they remember?
by Zhang Bojun
Translation by Wong Tone
