Making a sincere attempt to bring an unimagined and unexplored treasure trove of modern Sinhala literature to the English reading community, Montage is bringing Mahinda Prasad Masimbula’s award winning novel Senkottan translated by
Malinda Seneviratne, veteran journalist, writer and poet. Senkottan (The Indelible), a remarkable creation of literature by Mahinda Prasad Masimbula was his debut effort in his literary career for which he won the State Literary Award in 2013 and short-listed in Swarna Pusthaka Literary Awards and many other Literary Award Festivals in the same year. The book has been published by Santhawa Publishers and ‘Senkottan’ has blazed the trail in the self-publishing industry as one of the best-selling books in Sinhala literature.
CHAPTER 6, PART 1
Three days later, sometime in the evening, Veerappuli Henaya and Malma Ridee returned home safe and sound. By this time Rambaree had returned to Bungiriya but only after instructing Podina how she should handle affairs. Podi knew that whichever way the events that had unfolded were related the disappointment would be the same. Before the parents could catch their breath after entering the house everyone except of course Heen Ridee fell on their knees and worshipped the couple. When Malma Ridee, noting immediately the one absent, asked ‘Where’s Heen Ridee?’ Podina uttered the most difficult words she had to say, without raising her eyes to meet those of her mother.
‘She ran away with Babanis.’
* * *
Malma Ridee spent a day and a half weeping. The expression grief, initially, amounted to her rolling on the floor sobbing her eyes out. Later she wept and uttered all kinds of gibberish. It ceased somewhat only after Guna Ralahamy dropped by in the evening of the second day after they returned and explained a few things.
Veerappuli Henaya dealt with grief by sinking into deep thought. On this occasion he had for support an additional factor, a small Bo sapling with tender leaves that a young bhikkhu had gifted him in Anuradhapura. He had placed it in an old paaththaraya to keep it safe and had taken great care to bring it home all the way from Anuradhapura over several days. On the way he had decided that the chief bikkhu of the Nambuluwa temple would be invited to deliver a sermon and to plant it in a corner of his property in a simple ceremony. The problems they returned to made him change his mind.
He planted the sapling on a piece of rocky high ground located above the talipot grove by the peththare. He piled soil around it and lined it all with some rocks. He stood some distance away and looked upon it. That’s what he did for several days. Baba Henaya joined his grandfather to experience this new phenomenon. He too enjoyed it. Baba Henaya’s one wish was to see a massive bo tree in that place as quickly as possible. He would go close to the sapling and communicate with it softly without once touching the leaves. He collected some white sand in a kolapotha, sprinkled it around the sapling and in this manner created the bo maluwa.
Nambu Henaya brought Veerappuli Henaya’s breakfast and lunch to the bo sapling. When the first two leaves wilted, Veerappuli Henaya feared that the plant would perish. This wondrous plant was the one comfort in his life now. He fervently believed, moreover, that it would bring good fortune to his family and the many generations that they would bring into this world. He had not exposed the plant to the hot sun at any point during their journey back from Anuradhapura. He had brought it home with utmost respect, allowing ordinary folk they met along the way to touch with veneration the vessel which contained it. It was this invaluable treasure that made it possible for him to bear the great sorrow caused suddenly by his younger daughter.
The following morning, when he went to the bo sapling around the time that the light was sufficient to make visible the lines on his palm, he witnessed an amazing development. A tiny golden leaf had sprouted. Veerappuli Henaya’s hands almost involuntarily came together. His heart was filled with utmost faith. He felt as though he was floating several feet above the earth. He felt that the entirety of foliage surrounding him had turned towards this new leaf and was offering all blessings.
Bhavatu sabba mangalam, rakkhantu sabba devatha….
* * * *
That afternoon Malma Ridee gathered in a bundle the few pieces of cloth Heen Ridee had worn, frocks and skirts received from houses where she had performed puberty rites and a few pairs of silver earrings. She added to this a small hambiliya made of rush and reed given to her by an old aunt from a radaa group of pilgrims they had met during their pilgrimage to Anuradhapura. She thought for a moment and took out a havariya from a bag hanging on the screen. It was a new wig that had been woven and gifted to her by a padu woman named Seba. She stuffed this also into the bundle and stood up.
Subsequently, when she invited her husband to accompany her when she went to see Heen Ridee, he said ‘You go and come…’
Malma Ridee left with Baba Henaya to see Heen Ridee. After they left, Veerappuli Henaya went in to the house, looked around and found a torn and threadbare frock Heen Ridee had worn before she attained age. He took it to the vellaa hut, clutched it with both hands and softly sobbed.
Podina, who had come out of the kitchen to throw out the dishwater, saw this sight and felt deep sorrow about her father. Her mother, who had wept a day and a half on account of her child who had turned her back upon her, had thereafter gathered everything possible into a bundle and gone to see this very child, to be at her feet essentially. Although he had not gone to see her in person, her father was holding an old piece of clothing and sobbing like a child in the vellaa hut. What love, Podina thought to herself.
It was true. She loved her only child, Baba Henaya, the same way. She remembered how she would get agitated and go looking for him if he went out of sight for even a moment. She made sure he was never hungry. She kissed him all the time. How amazing was this love? Having wandered among these thoughts, Podina found a pathway to that which she had wanted to reflect on. The real father of her son, Anagi Hamy who lived in the village Werahera, must love his son as much as this, she thought. Although he kept away considering the problems that could arise because of social differences, if he were to see him one day, the wonderment of this love would no doubt surface. After a period of eight years, it was time to go look for the first and only man she had loved, Podina decided.
Malma Ridee couldn’t stop talking about Heen Ridee throughout that night. There were moments when she babbled, conjuring pride about her younger daughter.
‘Although he is like a wild animal, he loves her so much he would give his life for her. When I got there he was up a patharaja tree, cutting some branches. Our girl was at the foot of the tree, gathering flowers from the branches that had been cut down. They are happy. They turned into statues for a moment when they saw me. When they realised there was no anger written on my face, she ran to me like a fawn. She seemed in the best of health. Well, she had to leave one day with someone, hadn’t she? Come to think of it, it’s better that she’s living close enough for us to see her rather than disappearing to some faraway place. That’s something, isn’t it? She could fall ill. She could become needy and poor. Whatever befalls her, she has us…’
There was silence for a while. Then a soft sobbing. Thereafter, her mumbling was in a tearful tone.
‘And yet….how young she is! Even her breasts are still so tiny. Isn’t this the little one who not too long ago was running stark naked around the house and garden? How could she take a man’s fury? They don’t even have a proper kitchen. They are such wayward folk! Oh god, how could she ever get used to this?’
Podina couldn’t sleep because of this endless whining. It continued for several days.
‘It’s because she could endure it all that she left, isn’t it….?’