Will we see them often again?
Those humble folk who worked for a living,
Delightful impressions of the days gone by,
They have changed so much with time flying.
The Pingo-man walking fas and swift,
Carrying clay cooking pots on one shoulder,
The other hand he swings to and fro,
Never a pot a sunder.
The “Bread-man”, a round basket on his head,
Bringing bread and ‘goodies’ as well,
The much awaited ‘Thorombal’ man,
coming with knick-knacks and bangles to sell.
“Which road did you take to Colombo?”
Little ones will jokingly sing,
When they see the Chinaman riding his bike,
with bundles of silken things.
The two-wheel hooded rickshaw,
pulled by a quick footed man,
The buggy-carts carrying school children,
A whip in the carter's hand.
The washer-woman bringing clothes washed clean,
The bundle on her head she keeps,
The ‘Sarawita’ man with his betel display,
The colourful stilt-walkers dancing away,
The “kevum Amme” in long sleeved jacket, and cloth
Her straw basket full of oil-cakes fresh,
Such soothing sights of yester years,
Fit for an Artist's brush.
- Rupa Wijesinghe.