Avurudu: A celebration of life
By Pramod DE SILVA
No other annual event brings the country together like the Sinhala
and Hindu New Year, which is celebrated every April. Although primarily
celebrated by Sinhala Buddhists and Hindus, it has now become a national
event that transcends all man-made boundaries.
Indeed, those belonging to other communities and religions
participate in Avurudu events with great enthusiasm.
This year's Sinhala and Hindu New Year is even more significant
because most of the Northern residents displaced by the conflict are
back in their original dwellings and areas.
It is almost a new beginning for these people who had suffered for
years due to the LTTE's brutality. It will mark a new chapter in their
lives and in the country's history as well.
But one question remains: Whether the excessive commercialization of
our national events including Avurudu, Vesak and Christmas is a healthy
trend.
Take any newspaper and you will see hundreds of advertisements
targeting the Avurudu season, for everything from electronics to
clothes.
The message of unity and happiness embedded in the Avurudu
celebrations is in danger of being submerged in this torrent of
commercialism.
It spares no one even the remotest areas and the most innocent of
minds have been swamped in this mad rush.
It is a tough battle tradition versus modernity, that could leave the
former battered and bruised.
Contrast today's situation with that experienced by generations that
knew nothing about commercialism.
I still remember those pre-TV days when Avurudu was a merry occasion
without even a hint of artificial gloss. In the village off Ambalangoda
where I lived for a good part of my childhood, Avurudu was a unique
celebration of life itself.
It brought the entire village together in a spirit of camaraderie,
buoyed by an air of festivity.
It marked a new beginning for the entire village, which was heavily
dependent on agriculture.
All the families in the village strictly followed the traditions
associated with Avurudu, which marked the transition of the Sun from
Pisces to Aries in the heavens above.
Avurudu was a marvellous time for children in the village. Unlike
today, there was no pressure from adults to study all day and no tuition
classes to attend.
This was especially so during Avurudu, where we enjoyed being
carefree to the maximum, playing in the open air near paddy fields and
bathing in the stream afterwards.
Today, you can walk into any supermarket or pastry outlet and buy
sweetmeats (Rasakevili) to your heart's content.
This was not the case all those years ago.
Sweetmeats had to be made at home, and in any case, no one would have
it any other way.
We looked forward to this more than any other event associated with
Avurudu.
How could anyone possibly resist the aroma of freshly made sweetmeats
? My grandmother specialized in Konda Kavum.
It was wonderful to watch and it was even better when we
surreptitiously crept into the kitchen and lifted one or two of them,
with the oil still dripping, right under her own nose ! We found Avurudu
Nekaths (auspicious times) rather fascinating.
It was amazing that an entire village (and indeed an entire country)
could do one thing at exactly the same time. We would visit the temple,
attired in white, during the nonagathaya (Punya Kaalaya or period for
meritorious deeds).
Then came the lighting of the hearth, which was a family affair,
followed by another, even more important (for us) family affair the
partaking of meals.
The Avurudu table was a veritable feast for the eyes, milk rice,
kavum, Munguli, Athirasa, Kokis, Asmi, aluwa, banana you name it, they
had it.
The partaking of meals was usually followed by an event that we
children always looked forward to: the worshipping of parents and elders
and the exchanging of gifts.
The latter was often a one-way street, from elders to children.
By this time, we had also received (and worn) new clothes for the New
Year, usually in the colour stipulated by astrologers for that
particular year sparkling new sarongs, shorts and shirts for boys and
frocks for girls. Of course, it took very little time for them to get
dirty.
The hisa-thel-gema (anointing of oil) was another highly anticipated
event, held at the village temple.
No villager wanted to miss this important event, where the chief
priest invoked blessings on all.
Farmers and those who were employed also left for work at an
auspicious moment, a couple of days later. Needless to say, Avurudu was
easily the most joyous occasion of the year, heralded by the lighting of
crackers and the beat of rabanas amidst a profusion of erabadu flowers.
But the villagers often saved the best for last - the annual Bakmaha
Ulela (Avurudu festival) replete with traditional games such as pillow
fighting, climbing the greasy pole, bun eating, cart racing etc and some
modern ones such as cross country running. The village lasses got an
opportunity to become the Avurudu Kumari. Incidentally, the Bak Maha
Ulela has survived largely intact through the years, albeit with a heavy
dose of sponsorship and commercialism.
Perhaps the best part of Avurudu was not the festivity per se it was
the spirit of giving and forgiving.
Animosity was cast away in place of friendship. Enemies became
friends. People vowed to give up discord and rancour.
That was bigger and better than even the sheer joy of Avurudu itself.
And visits to friends and relatives near and far strengthened lifelong
bonds.
As we celebrate yet another Sinhala and Hindu New Year, it is time we
went back to these basics, these simple pleasures of life.
These are simple things that made Avurudu special for both children
and adults all over the country. They still have the potential to do so.
We should be able to see through the veneer of commercialism and
extract the essence of Avurudu so that future generations could still
benefit from time-honoured traditions which we have inherited from our
ancestors. Avurudu once again needs to be the simple celebration of
spontaneous joy that it used to be.
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