In its heyday, the Boria stage show had evolved into a unique Malayan amusement, emerging in the streets of George Town during the days when there were no televisions or cinemas.

It was common for people to gather all night to enjoy the story-telling and dancing with live music accompaniment. Besides the "tukang karang" (lead singer) there were chorus comedians and musicians playing instruments like the accordion, the harmonica, drums, cymbals, tabla and violin. It was about clean, wholesome entertainment with singing, comic sketches and pantuns (rhyming verses).

But there was one intriguing aspect of the Boria that has not been well documented. This was its little-known role in the political history of the nation, as it became gradually adapted from being a mere form of amusement to becoming used for discrete yet potent propaganda by certain quarters.

In an age when there were no blogs, mass emails or SMS alerts, one naturally found and tailored other ingenious existing means to convey important messages to the people.

And so the Boria, which in its heyday drew communities from the many urban enclaves of Penang, became used as a powerful medium to dish out strong messages, which the audiences themselves understood, implicitly or otherwise.

For the last few decades, however, the tradition inevitably got gradually worn off from the minds of the masses. People today prefer to spend their evenings amusing themselves in karaokes and malls, or watching movies on VCDs or at cinemas.

In an attempt to reignite interest in the old cultural form, the Culture and Arts Department is organising in September a four-day national Boria Festival at Kampung Seronok in Bayan Lepas.

For the many elderly Penangites who had lived through the heyday of the Boria, the festival should serve as an occasion to fan memories of the olden days. For the younger generations who had never gone through those idyllic years, it may just give a glimpse of the entertainment our forebears were used to in a society and living environment that has since radically altered.

I once interviewed a veteran Boria entertainer, Abu Bakar Jaafar, the last in a breed of early entertainers who began playing when Boria became a cultural institution in the 1930s. Abu Bakar received the prestigious Anugerah Seni Negara, a national award to recognise leading artistes in the country, in 2004.

"When it first started, there was no stage. We all performed on the ground," he told me. "We also played in front of Chinese towkays and their families. They enjoyed it thoroughly, and even gave us money to put up advertisements for their companies or products like cigarettes."

What was particularly absorbing was a revelation by Abu Bakar that from being a mere amusement, the Boria actually got spontaneously adapted as a platform to make indirect statements and announcements – whether political or social. One just needed to know "how" to send the messages, all couched in the colourful veneer of the stage entertainment.

In fact, at one stage, the authorities became afraid that its use could get blown out of their control.

Abu Bakar himself was handcuffed and whisked away by the police immediately after performing at the Butterworth Recreation Club, where he had belted out a catchy "pantun" exhorting the people to oppose the authoritarian rule of the British colonialists.

I doubt the present generation will appreciate that fascinating, didactic aspect of the Boria. For the face of the Boria today is likely to be a watered-down version spruced with celebratory, cosmetic colours.

Indeed, it is never easy to relive the soul and spirit of the past. At the very least, the attempt to revive the Boria should make us conscious of one thing – that the voice of dissension is difficult to be put down, and has always found its expression, whatever the technology and the times.

** Republished with permission. This article first appeared in the April 28, 2011 issue of theSun. Himanshu is theSun’s Penang bureau chief.