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 3, PART 4
So the days passed.
Folding the clothes at the wellaawa, Podina remembered her mother and father. Had something untoward happened to them along the way? Had they fallen sick? And she told herself that with the blessings of the Sri Maha Bodhi, nothing of the sort should happen to them.
She thought of many things. She was absolutely disenchanted with her life. She thought of her mother, her father, Nambu Henaya, her son Baba Henaya, Heen Ridee, Anagihamy…in her subconscious she entertained the hope that one day she would go look for Anagihamy. Then she thought of Nambu Henaya. He had at this moment gone towards the stream to pick miyana leaves. Such tasks were all that he could do. He couldn’t even climb a tree to pluck a coconut or a jak fruit. Lately she had begun calling him kabala whenever she got angry with him. Stung by the allusion to being out of order or obsolete he would them retreat to the paddy fields. He would remain at the rock of the peththare or in tree hut at Puwakgasdeniya and slowly make his way back home when darkness fell.
On such occasions he would remember his mother. She was the one friend he had in this world. She had died after being gored by a bull. His sister Garu Ridee assumed control of the house after their mother’s death contrary to the convention that it should have passed on to the youngest son. Regardless of everything, he had the deepest respect for Podina even though he cringed before Podina. If she was not to be seen he would go look for her. When he found where she was, he felt contented.
Podina added a few coconut shells into the fire of the wellaawa. Baba Henaya, on his haunches, enjoyed the fragrance that wafted from the wellaawa. He drew closer since he really liked the smell of boiling clothes.
‘Move away son, it might be too hot for you little one.’
Baba Henaya suddenly remembered something. ‘Amme we are out of senkottan. I told Aatha the other day, but he said we can get some later. Shall we go buy some Amme?
‘No, no need,my little one… they’ll be returning soon. They’ll probably bring some. We might be able to find some we could use from what’s left.’
‘There aren’t any left. Thaththa and I checked them out. What’s left is all dry.’
Baba Henaya heard the troupe of rilow jumping from tree to tree approaching the house and ran towards them. Podina felt deeply sorry for Baba Henaya. He would talk about the entire laundry process as though he was an expert. Out of all the tasks what he enjoyed most was making the mark with the juice of the senkottan. Small though he was, he made new marks for the various families. He used tiny dots or short lines to make intricate patterns which earned him praise from the particular households on occasion.
Thus did Baba Henaya introduced this new art to the clothes of villages like Niyangama, Werahera, Baddegama, Nambuluva and Bibilegama. Now it was his task. No one interfered.
* * *
Heen Ridee is still asleep. She didn’t even wake up to have breakfast. She had been sleeping during the afternoon these last few days and seemed to be loathe to get in the morning. Podina had noticed her smiling to herself as she scraped a coconut two days ago. This strange pattern of sleeping and unusual smiles made Podina suspicious.
Podina became alert the day she noticed her sister’s breasts. In the course of just a few days they had become full like those of a married woman. They seemed even more pronounced whenever she wore a frock she had received from a household where she had attended to puberty rites.
‘That fellow must be coming by at night,’ she thought to herself. She tried to figure out how it could happen if indeed this was the case. She found the first piece of evidence by the window of Heen Ridee’s room. The soil just outside the window carried the signature of feet. The absence of the parents had made their task easier. It was twenty eight days since they had set off for Anuradhapura. She felt her anger rising.
Babanis was used to drawing coconut toddy and consuming it even at home. Does he creep into the house in a drunken state? Not much could happen between them while standing on either side of a window, but Podina knew that a such moments even a keyhole would suffice. She thought long about such things. Heen Ridee was still fast asleep on her mat.
‘’She sleeps like the goddess Paththini, having indulged in all vulgarity! I will somehow catch her at it,’ Podina promised herself.
She got an idea and around four thirty in the afternoon she went to the kitchen and ground a ball of chillie that could scarcely be held in a hand. She left it on the grinding stone.
Night arrived. Heen Ridee laid out her mat early and went to sleep. Podina and Baba Henaya were in the living room. Nambu Henaya was in the verandah room. Podina was wide awake. The little one was fast asleep. She went into action just before midnight because she felt this would be the hour. She went near the room where Heen Ridee slept and called out to her from the doorway.
‘Nangiye…little girl…’
Heen Ridee was not asleep. Why is her sister calling to her at this time of the night? She let on that she was asleep and didn’t respond.
‘Little girl…’ her sister came closer.
‘Hmm…what is it?’ she asked lazily and got up slowly as though she had been deep in slumber.
‘Come stay with the little one for a bit…my stomach is aching. I’ll go to the kitchen, crush a piece of ginger and drink it…stay here until I come back. Otherwise he will keep waking up to look for me.’
Heen Ridee lazily and reluctantly obeyed. She stretched herself near Baba Henaya. Podina went to the kitchen. The trembling of two hearts indicated that a very special hour was nigh. Heen Ridee could only hear her heartbeat. To her it was like an earth tremor. Her sister might bump into Babanis on her way to the kitchen. She knew that her sister was very crafty. How good would it be if this night unfolded peacefully, she thought to herself, murmuring the ithipiso gathaava, recalling the exceptional attributes of the Buddha. Baba Henaya felt around in the dar and in his sleep and renewed his slumber after thrown an arm across Heen Ridee’s chest.
Podina went into the kitchen, tightened the cloth around her and tied her hair in a tight knot. Then she took the ball of chillie she had grounded that evening. She came back to the living room and called out to her sister in a whisper.
‘Nangiye….little girl…’
‘Mmm…’
‘Just stay here…I will have to go out off and on I feel. I’ll just lie down on your mat…’
Heen Ridee felt that all this was a scheme hatched by some unknown force. She and her loved had not encountered any obstacle before this. Everything was going wrong tonight. How good it would be If her sister fell asleep so Babanis could come and then leave without any trouble, she thought to herself. It would be a disaster if he made excessive noise to try to wake her up, believing she was fast asleep. In that lonely night even the sound of a dew drop slipping from one leaf to another below could be distinctly heard. There were two who were listening intently. The dark from of the third who was also awake was emerging out of the shadows. A moment later there was the customary scratch on the window frame. What Podina had suspected was now being clearly confirmed. She got up from the mat without a sound and went to the window, the ball of chillie in her hand. Babanis put his arm through the window as was now custom, impatiently pulled Podina towards him and held her tight. ‘Why are you late?’ he then whispered.
That’s all he could ask. What he received was an answer he had never expected. Something cold, like a clod of clay was suddenly pressed on his face. He was stabbed by a piercing fire. Even Podina could not figure out how he disappeared.
‘The rest will have to wait until morning,’ she thought to herself.