Last dregs of the 'season'

by Aditha Dissanayake

He advices me with great patience. "Keep your legs apart. Bend your knees. Hold it tight". I am all obedience. But Pantallion is not that pleased with me. He grunts with disappointment.

After several attempts all of which end with me still in the "woods" I decide I'd do better with Sarath, Peter or Mahendra. They are younger and seem more energetic than sixty-something Pantallion. But for the time being I will have to be with him. Perhaps tomorrow...

Ah! Tomorrow. Tomorrow I might not be here at this time of the day. Tomorrow I might be peering down the precipice at World's End, playing cricket in front of Gregory's Lake or trying to keep away from other people's photos inside the Victoria gardens.

Even though the new year holidays are now over the season in Nuwara Eliya does not seem to have reached the last dregs yet.

The vegetable stalls with the bell-pepper and the withering salad leaves may be deserted, the horse races may have ended, but the crowds the litter and the exorbitant parking tickets of Rs. 50.00 charged by the Municipal Council have not changed.

Even during the middle of the afternoon the beer taverns are not empty, while the music from the loud speakers continues non-stop through sunshine and rain.

It is hard to imagine what Samuel Baker-game hunter, explorer, who is said to have founded a colony at Mahagastota, with a groom to drive the coach, a blacksmith and forge and even Hereford and Durham cows, would think of the place if he were to see it today. Lucky for him, he left Ceylon in 1866 (before the changes took place)to discover the longest river in the world -the Nile.

As for the spirits of his brother John and John's wife, Elisa who had remained behind and who now lie under the yew trees in the Holy Trinity church in Nuwara Eliya come the month of April, peace would be a hard commodity to find.

Equally hard to guess too, what Sir Edward Barns would feel if he knew that the Elizabethan Manor House he had built for himself and called Barnes Hall, would one day be known as the Grand Hotel where a German couple, celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary will rent a double room. This is the first time Herr and Frau Schreiber have been to Sri Lanka.

"We have been to Britain and this town reminds us of Sussex" says Herr Schreiber with a grin. "No, its more like Devon to me" his wife disagrees.

"We have not had that many foreign visitors this year admits the receptionist at the Grand Hotel. "But the number of local guests have not changed."

Nor have the flowers. Anybody interested in seeing the most beautiful roses that ever blossomed should travel along the main road past the Prime Minister's house to behold a sight worthy of being recalled while lieing on a couch or otherwise, till next April.

If you have not yet made it to Nuwara Eliya, time you take out the cardigans, the shawls, the denim jackets. Time to think of damp noses, goose flesh on your arms and smoke blowing from your mouths.

With only a few days left for the season to end, time you got your rooms booked too, lest there be no room at the Inn.

Rawana had thought it the best place to hide Sita. To the British Planters it had been a sanatorium. To most foreigners "New-ra-Eliya" is the place where they will discover the meaning of Serendipity. Hope they will not be disappointed.

As for me...back to Pantallion and his instructions. "Bend your knees hold it tight...you should sway it so that it will go kissing the grass...". No! Another hopeless stroke.

I realize I'm no Tiger Woods. Golf is not my forte. Come next season I will simply sit on the veranda of the Golf club and simply enjoy looking at the green, green grass... having an (imaginary) glass of H two O mixed with a dash of yeast.

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