Chariots of Nostalgia

by Aditha Dissanayake

Remember the chariot race in "Ben-Hur". The action, the nail-biting tension and the violence. Imagine the same scenes in Kaduwela, Gampola, Malwana and Delgoda. Perhaps not right now, but come New Year. Yes.

Listening to the race drivers of these towns it's hard not to imagine that every April the atmosphere in these towns too would bear the same chilling excitement, as seen in Ben-Hur, minus the violence. Called Thirikkala, the races held in these open-air-carts are still a part of the New Year celebrations in some parts of the country.

But for how long? asks fifty year old K.E. Premadasa of Aluthgama Gampola. Even though his son helps him in the races, Premadasa complains that most young people are more interested in riding a motor bike or a flashy car than in learning to master the art of racing the streets in a Thirikkala.

An art which has to be mastered not only by the rider but by the animal as well. A bull chosen for the races has to be sterilized, explains Premadasa. This is because all his energy should be diverted towards winning the race; his stamina should exclusively be for running. These bulls therefore, cannot be harnessed to ordinary carts because the moment they are commanded to go, they run as if a race has begun. Some bulls are said to be able to do sixty miles per hour.

All the cart owners we met denounced the accusation made by animal lovers like the Gal Gawa Mithuro that the bulls are being harassed by being used in the races by saying, "they don't know what they are talking about. Some asked, What about the elephants used in Peraheras? Aren't they harassed too?"

Controversy apart, it was obvious that in their eyes their Thirikkala is even more valuable than a Volvo. And they can't be far wrong because manufacturing a Thirikkala is probably one of the most tedious and time consuming manufacturing processes in the world.

To begin with, the right wood has to be found, one which is light in weight but strong. Premadasa says he and his colleagues use the gamsuriya tree as it meets these too quintessential requirements. The maintenance of the Thirikkala, once manufactured is another story altogether.

In the same way you and I flock to Panchikawatte in search of motor spare parts, the Thirikkala owners head towards Pannala when something goes wrong with their carriages. Sirisena Bass is the man to meet once you make it to Pannala. He is sure to have all the body-parts you are looking for.

A ride in a Thirikkala. Impossible, because it seats only one person. And even if there had been room, with no seat belts, the moment the bull begins to move you might find yourself back on the road with a bruised bottom.