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 9, PART 2
About an hour later, when Nambu Henaya returned home, he found Malma Ridee seated on the steps of the verandah, crying. Nambu Henaya went to her quickly and began speaking impatiently.
‘What did the astrologer say, nendamme?’
Malma Ridee spoke almost incoherently and tearfully without looking at Nambu Henaya.
‘A lot of things were said. He asked if it was about a human being that I was inquiring. Apparently a long dead relative had taken her a long distance away. She’s fallen somewhere, wracked with thirst, having passed seven places where there was water. How can we find her? Where can we look, my boy? He said that she should have written in a day and a half on account of all the chanting. Then again the gurunnanse himself wondered how she could come if she was lying somewhere without any water. Oh! My poor girl…’
She sobbed grew louder. Nambu Henaya squatted right there and he too began to weep. A moment later Baba Henaya came running up to them, quite out of breath. He stopped, bent, rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Nambu Henaya and Malma Ridee, got up, realizing that the boy had some important news to share.
‘What’s it, little boy….tell!’ Malma Ridee asked impatiently.
Still panting, Baba Henaya spoke with some urgency.
‘Aatha wanted me to tell Kiri Amma and the others to come towards Werehera. Aatha ran along the Werahera road.’
‘Oh! God! Let’s go….all of us…’
An hour and a half later, Malma Ridee, Nambu Henaya and Baba Henaya, having run without stopping found themselves crossing the dried bed of that stream following directions given by villagers. Their bodies were bathed in sweat. Nambu Henaya had never exerted himself this much in his entire life. And yet, his mind was possessed by some strange strength. Some villagers in ones and twos were climbing down the hill even as they crossed the stream. Since all three were running and navigating the boulder-filled stream with tears streaming down their cheeks, the villagers just looked and said ‘aney….apoi….’ A few moments later they arrived at that place.
A foul smell had enveloped the entire area. Veerappuli Henaya was sitting by a mound of fresh earth, deep in thought. There was just one other person, an elderly villager who sat on a rock, chewing a wad of betel. Upon seeing the wife, son-in-law and grandson, Veerappuli Henaya was consumed by sobs. As he sobbed with his lips held tight a host of feeling swept across his countenance. He was clutching something, holding it close. Malma Ridee and Nambu Henaya came close to him walking almost lifelessly. He held out to them what he had been holding. It was Podina’s jacket. Immediately Mamla Ridee and Nambu Henaya began wailing like two children. Baba Henaya sat on a nearby rock and cried softly. The next moment Nambu Henaya threw himself on the mound of earth and cried. The elderly person who witnessed all of this began to speak.
‘I come this way once a month or so to cut venivelgeta. This morning as I was making my way along the dried river bed I noticed a strong stench and that’s what made me look around. It was almost impossible to get close, it stank so much! I held my nose and came closer. The monitor lizards had fed on the corpse even then. I realised it was a woman by the hair that was spread all over. What locks of hair!
I ran back to the village and broke the news. It was one of the young men who noticed this jacket tangled among the branches of that tree. It had to be mahasona for the jacket to end up in a place this high. Anyway, that’s all there was to it. The head was smashed. I surmised that some powerful force had been at work. Even the arachchi unnannse agreed. I mean, what on earth would make anyone come this deep into the jungle? If there was some need that had to be satisfied it would be enough to turn away from the rocks and go a few dozen yards into the jungle. This has to be the work of some inhuman force.’
The sobs of the small group grew louder. The old couple of the little boy held their sorrow to the extent possible and let the excess seep out onto their faces, but the young man alone hugged the mound of earth, weeping uncontrollably. All this the elderly man noticed. He moved close to him.
‘Young man, look here. The dead woman will not come alive just because you clutch at this mound of earth. All of you should follow the example of this man,’ he said pointing to Veerappuli Henaya.
‘This man kept calm from the moment he saw the decayed corpse until the villagers brought a mammoth and a mat, dug a grave, collected the scattered pieces of her body and buried her. A sob escaped him not until the three of you arrived. When they tried to take the torn jacked he held on to it and didn’t let them bury it. This is the way of the world, people. We don’t want to be far away from those we love. We don’t want to reflect on death. I too am a vedaraala and I too have saved lives, as many as there are hairs on my head. However, even the god Sakra cannot prevent a death that has to take place. Be patient.
Whether the woman was brought here by the Mahasona or any other evil creature, what’s done is done now. From the little one to this old man, the four of you must come to terms with all this. What you are leaving behind beneath this mound of earth is just decayed and decaying dirt. If the one who has passed on had some commendable qualities, just remember those. Invite a hamuduruwo to the house for a sermon, transfer merit to the woman and be at peace.
‘Let me stay here today, just for today…please let me stay…you can all go,’ Nambu Henaya screamed and continued to cling to the earth.
Crying like four small children they returned home as dusk was falling.
The young hamuduruwo, Reverend Nambuluwawe Sumanajothi Thera arrived the following day upon receiving an invitation extended by Veerappuli Henaya. He delivered an excellent sermon by the bo sapling. Seated upon a white cloth spread on a flat rock by the sapling, the hamuduruwo explicated some fine and practical points. Guna Ralahamy had also come to listen to the sermon. The most important thing was that Heen Ridee had also come. She hadn’t known about the sermon. The entire village had come to know about the tragedy that had befallen Podina by this time. The moment she heard about it Heen Ridee had come running, weeping all the way. Babanis came with her a part of the way, but didn’t come to the house. He remained by the large kumbuk tree in the middle of the paddy field. There was no time for any conversation after Heen Ridee’s sudden arrival and cries because Sumanajothi Hamuduruwo arrived just then.
Veerappuli Henaya, Guna Ralahamy, Malma Ridee, Nambu Henaya, Heen Ridee and Baba Henaya say on small flat rocks placed around the bo sapling and with becalmed minds listened to the sermon. What remained of Podina as far as they were concerned was the jacket, which was placed on a kolapotha laid out on a rock facing them. Except for Guna Ralahamy and Veerappuli Henaya the others found it difficult to stifle the sobs that clutched at their throats each time they eyes strayed and came to rest on this torn piece of clothing.
Heen Ridee’s heart melted like cheese brought close to the fire when she set eyes on her sister’s jacket. She held down her sobs but she could not stem the flow of tears.
Many noble thoughts about her sister had taken residence in her mind never to leave. There was only one occasion when she had temporarily forgotten all these. That was from the moment she started her affair with Babanis until a few days had passed after she had started living with him.
However, four or five days after she had left home, she realised that the advice offered by her sister hadn’t been prompted by any jealousy but were the yield of immense wisdom about life. She realized also that by then it was far too late for her. She told herself again and again that what Podina had tried to explain in harsh words in the manner of yaksanee was none other than the transient nature of the impatient process birthed in lust disguised as love. At the time, though, the strict and harsh manner of her sister had been defeated by the stubborn desire to enter an unfamiliar territory which had spread like a great fire throughout her body, she remembered. She wanted to recall the last time she had seen her sister. It was about a month after she had left home. She had gone to the Bandara field to collect cow dung and had seen her sister who had also come to collect cow dung. The moment Podina had seen her, she had gathered what she had collected and left through the tall grass towards the ovita, Heen Ridee remembered.
She had a strong urge to call out to her, but why had she not spoke out, called out ‘Akka?’ Was it because of fear, shame or endless respect? If she had in fact spoken even a word with her sister and worshipped her she would not feel as deeply the sorrow she suffered now. The regret produced by these reflections made her sobs more intense without her realizing it. At this moment, Malma Ridee stroked her head. Veerappuli Henaya looked at her with pity for a moment and then closed his eyes once more. A faint sob escaped Nambu Henaya. Baba Henaya turned his head at the sound. The calm voice of Sumanajothi Thero calmed one and all. In the meantime, Heen Ridee noticed something and cast her gaze upon it.
The tract of paddy land was clearly visible from the bo maluwa where they were seated. Heen Ridee saw Babanis squatting by the great kumbuk tree in the middle of the paddy field, cleaning his teach with a small stick. Babanis cast his eyes towards the bo maluwa off and on. After waiting to catch his eye, Heen Ridee signalled him to come to the bo maluwa. He didn’t offer any response. He scowled and looked down. Heen Ridee felt derision rise within her about Babanis. The moment the story of Podina’s fate, spread throughout the village by Garu Ridee reached her ears, Been Ridee had fallen on the floor, weeping uncontrollably. Seeing her Babanis had said ‘she should have suffered much worse!’ This only increased her pain two to three fold. Although she was now listening to the sermon and was more or less of a calm mind, she knew that the moment she got home she would have to suffer Babanis’ harsh words and beatings.
There were two new leaves, pale purple, that had by this time sprouted from the bo sapling. Exactly three days later around sunset the yellowed leaf at the base of the sapling fell. Veerappuli Henaya, who was sitting on a rock awaiting this, took it in both hands and looked upon it for a long time. He felt a great pride rising within him. A new life process was unfolding within the precious thing which he had with the greatest effort brought home. New leaves were sprouting. The older leaves would decay and fall to the earth. One day this tiny sapling will grow into a giant of a tree and would bathe with a divine light all corners of the village, he thought.