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| Sunday, 16 June 2002 |
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Batticaloa sings again by Padma Edirisinghe
The writer spent a few days in the City of Singing Fish through the kind courtesy of Batticaloa College of Education. Here she was able to feel the pulse of the present joyous spirit of the Batticaloa population, very optimistic of a peaceful morrow after years and years of turmoil. In the introduction to Batticaloania, the title given to the bibliography of Batticaloa that has been compiled by S. J. Selvarajah are the following lines... "Batticaloa is famous for its singing fish. The musical sounds are heard in the lagoon near the Kallady Lady Manning bridge at night when the moon is nearest to the full and there is not much wind." To add authenticity to this information, Selvarajah adds that a priest named Father Lang recorded this music and broadcast it in the 1960s over the SLBC. I however was not fortunate enough to hear the famous singing fish of Batticaloa, perhaps due to the fact that I was there during the days of the waxing moon. But I heard another kind of singing at the Methodist Women's Centre where I was put up. The singers were girls boarded there and I heard them sing far into the night. What did they sing of, I asked them next morning. Rather abashed they replied that the songs were almost hymns, more specifically requests to God to restore peace and harmony once again to their beautiful city. I did not bother to ask to which specific God they made their request, to the Christian God or the Moslem God or the pantheon of gods in the Hindu and Buddhist culture. What mattered was that their voices rose in unison for a change of circumstances that would ensure them the optimum flowering of their youthful lives. They had seen so much of trauma and turmoil.
Batticaloa is indeed a strange city where the old and new meet, where communities of varied races and religions brush shoulders. It seems to be free of petty prejudices. For example along Church Street, I saw a gentleman dressed in Western garb, a very revered figure. Ofcourse he, a Weslyan missionary named William Ault had died long ago and only the statue is left now. In fact he had come to Batticaloa as early as 1824 and was almost the main founder of English education in the Eastern province. St. Vincent Girls' school, the foremost girls' school too probably owes its origin to him. I tried to lay my hands on the earliest log records of this college but did not make headway. Many of the matriarchs of Batticaloa whom I met are very fluent in English and say boastfully that they are old girls of St. Vincent's. But the remarkable thing about the city is that the Weslyan missionary activities had never swept away the indigenous religions and cultures of the area. Nor has anybody in a spurt of fanaticism tried to remove Ault from his pedestal. That is Batticaloa. Just behind the public library was a building I gaped and gaped at. It was the Batticaloa Fort. Of course I may have seen it before during a visit in my childhood but it had never registered in my mind. But later I had read and written so much of what had happened within its walls that I felt it a wonder that I stood before it now. The kachcheri is said to be housed here today. Actually the historical significance of Batticaloa has been much undermined. It seems to have shot into international fame as a port of call after the Dutch began expanding their colonial empire in Far Asia i.e. towards Sumatra and Java. Homeward bound or far Asia bound they found Batticaloa a convenient stay-over place. It was here that the fate of Portuguese power in Ceylon was sealed for the famous Spilbergen landed here to enter into a truce with King Vimaladharma I to expel them. It was here that Westerwold signed his famous treaty in 1638. It was here that the unfortunate Captain Waart due to an overdose of liquor made an obscene remark about the Queen of Kandy and had his heat cut off by an enraged monarch. The Queen was Dona Catherina. The incident marred Sinhala-Dutch relations but again talks resumed, and in 1669 the Fort was captured by the Dutch. So much has happened here in the last few centuries but the Fort remains mute and so modest about it all. No tablet or plaque informs schoolchildren or student teachers all those important events that were orchestrated here. No body cares about that aspect and in that respect, the city apes other cities in our country. Ethnically too the city is very interesting. The major community are the Tamils whom many claim to have come over from Kerala. The Muslims here trace their beginnings to the time of King Senarat who succeeded Vimala Dharma Surya. Ever since Portuguese arrival in the island, the Muslims had felt uncomfortable as they were trade rivals in the Indian ocean. King Senarat seems to have come to their rescue and settled a good many of them in this area. The Sinhalese form the third ethnic group. And then come the Batticaloa Burghers, a very interesting ethnic group whose description warrants a separate article. It need only be said here that their tenacity to retain their identity while living in harmony with other communities with whom some have intermarried is indeed admirable. The hopes of the Batticaloa people just now run to high heavens. Typical is Suppiah who once had worked in Colombo and can converse in Sinhala. Handing a packet of thosai to me from his boutique he tells me, "Nona, Apata dan hari Santhosai. Yudde ivarai. Dan same thamai mehe" (Nona. We are very happy now. War is over. Now it is peace here." The uniformed youths who were working at the check points seem to be in relaxed mood. They smile with every passer - by and some of those with whom they smile and have a pleasant chit chat I am told have once been known as hard-core LTTErs. This is what a colleague from the college, had to say... "Even if the big people find stumbling blocks, the ordinary people have gone ahead before them. Those at the top cannot now reverse." I nod trying to understand the strange and happy drama. I went by road transport and I made my return journey by the night mail. The forest around the Gal Oya area is enveloped in darkness but the winds are refreshing. It lulls one to sleep. Then I heard a voice say, "Come back again to our Batticaloa." Who is it? Then I remembered. It is the voice of Mignonne Ragel, a Batticaloa Burgher and an English teacher of a Tamil school in the city. I forget the name of the school. Sivanathan tamil school, maybe. She can talk four languages - English, Tamil, Sinhala and Portuguese. Just a little exertion more to earn the title 'Shadbhasha parameshwara (Master of seven languages). You get these characters only in our coastal cities. "If you come during X'mas you can see the culture we have preserved in all its glory... the food... the music... the dances." Thank you, Mignonne. The chugging train takes me further and further away from the serene Eastern city fringing what could be Lanka's largest lagoon. The iron monster is taking me back to my humdrum life in the capital where I scribble and scribble for pleasure plus income. The balmic breezes from the sea have long ceased to refresh me. The shadows of the gaunt trees around almost frighten me. But happily for me memories from the city I have left behind come back intertwined with these shadows... I see in my mind's eye the boys and girls of Batticaloa CoE, so eager to please, so eager to grasp a worthwhile matter discussed, eager to communicate despite the language barrier. I see the authorities strutting about, going about their business of guiding these novices so conscientiously despite the limitations of the undeveloped area. The struggles ache my heart. Then I hear the girls singing away at the Methodist Centre. "Oh, Lord. Let peace descend on our city." And peaceful sleep descends on my despite the raucous noises made by the Yakada Yaka, himself acting his own role dutifully. |
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