Sunburnt Home - an Australian-Sri Lankan novel

Chapter 29: 'There are no ruins in Australia!'

By Sunil GOVINNAGE

To Jayadeva's surprise there were only less than one hundred people at Prasanna's funeral. Having briefly spoken to Prasanna's wife and two children, Jayadeva decided to go back to his hotel. As he began his walk through the narrow path that led to the main entrance of the cemetery, someone approached him from behind and tapped on his shoulder. When Jayadeva looked back, he immediately realised the smiling face of Udara whom he knew from his undergraduate days.

"Oh Jaye! I thought it must be you. When did you come back from Australia? Have you come back for good, and where are you working now, and why didn't you drop me a line?" Udara's questions reminded Jayadeva, the continuous and unbroken waves of Tissa weva that he had been observing for hours during his sudden journey to Anuradhapura.

"Oh Udara, after all these years your smile hasn't changed, but everything else..." paused Jayadeva looking at Udara's bald head that reminded him an arid land that he once saw in Tasmania due to uprooting native trees. He tried to recall Udara's beautiful thick curly hair that he had seen when they used to meet at the literary circle during Peradeniya days.

Like everything else, past has changed, and only bits and pieces of memories have remained like the remanning stone pillars of Lova Maha Paya.

"We all have changed?" replied Udara and looked at Jayadeva's thin grey hair that made him look older than his age.

"Tell me Jaye, when did you come back to Anuradhapura?"

"I'm still in Australia, Perth! I came back to see Prasanna's dead body. I came on my own and stayed at Anuradhapura, just to attend the funeral. Like everything else in my life, it was an unplanned journey; a sudden decision!"

"You mean to say that you came all the way to Prasa's funeral? I of course used to meet him when I visited Anuradhapura. You two were the only engineering students who attended the literacy circle ," said Udara reminding their days at Peradeniya University and the meetings at our literary circle.

"It was one great thing Professor Sarathchandra started for us", said Udara and took a deep breath gazing at Jayadeva

Prasanna and Jayadeva used to attend the meetings at Professor Sarathchandra's literary circle regularly, and became friends with Udara who was an active member of the group, then. Jayadeva remembered visiting Udeni's ancestral home in Kurunagala during university holidays and long weekends and discussing Sinhala novels and poetry that they were interested in then.

The evening sun rays were rapidly dissipating over the ruins and pagodas converting everything in the background into unclear shadows like their past. Jayadeva felt uncomfortable unbearable north-central weather with growing humidity that he used to live without any complaints when he worked at Mahaveli.

"So, where are you staying tonight, and I could drop you anywhere," Udara opened the door of his car to Jayadeva.

When Jayadeva responded by saying that he is staying at a hotel, and has a return ticket to Australia in a few days' time, but had no plans to do what next.. Udara couldn't believe either the purpose of his old friend's sudden visit or his rationale for attending Prasanna's funeral.

"So you came all the way from Australia, to attend Prasa's funeral and that you are not sure of what to do? And you are staying in a hotel on your own! I can't believe you! You are like a character from W. A Silva's novel. Why didn't you tell me that you are coming? You did send me an email about six months ago, and you know how to contact me via email!"

"I don't know, Udara. I think I came to find out about myself, and learn how much I have lost by leaving Sri Lanka. I realised that again when I walked through the scared city during the last twenty-four hours! We don't have an old civilization or past glory or any ruins in Australia. Everything is new and modern!"

"You haven't lost anything! You are a happy, and successful professional living in Australia! Your wife is a doctor and your children are receiving First World education, and what else do you need?" said Udara as he turned the car onto the narrow path leading to Jayadeva's hotel.

"I was thinking a lot; Prasa's life, his courage, his decision to stay behind in Sri Lanka with all the flaws of the country, and his work about our lost glory, I mean his documentary on Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa. I wanted to learn a bit more about his work, and his motives, at least from his wife. But I haven't met Prasa's wife or children except at the funeral. I want to stay here for a few more days and contemplate. I wanted to visit some of my old friends, but everyone I talked with, wanted to know how to immigrate to Australia!"

"Why not you come home with me, and stay with us for a few days for the old time sake.

You came home with me a few times during our Peradeniya period of life. I have a guest room. Let's go home, rather than staying in a hotel room on your own."

"Are you sure, Udara? Your family may think that you are mad to bring an Australian after attending an old friend's funeral in Anuradhapura!"

"Oh no, Nishani would be happy to see you. She knows you through your poetry.

We used to read your sad Australian poetry. She was very sad and curious to read your English poem "to our daughter on the move', I'll give Nisha a call and ask her to get the guest room ready for you.

Let's go and pack up your things," Udara emphasised again.

Jayadeva didn't need more words from his old friend to decide his next move. Like an obedient student who didn't want to disagree with the teacher, he started packing up his clothes silently.

They left the scared city when the last sun rays brushed the waters of Tissa weva with salmon red colours.

"Jaye, I have read a few of your poems appearing in Divaina Kavi pituwa, and some of the poems are a bit sad," said Udara, avoiding a large pot-hole on the road.

"Aren't you happy in Australia? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know! I really don't know Udara. Perhaps the sufferings of Samasara. I wished I didn't go to Australia, my two children are no longer Sri Lankans, they don't know anything about our history, and the past glory of this ancient city", Jayadeva confessed.

"Oh you are thinking like me now! I wished I kept my job as a lecturer in Sinhala Department, instead of joining the Administrative Service.

You are thinking about your journey across the Mute Sea and losing your heritage, the past glory, and ruins! I have kept a copy of your poem, The Mute Sea and My Heritage, and it is sad, but may be your story! What is the use of past. It's a vanishing land mark like steps on a foreshore!"

"We all need to have a past and a history, Udara!"

"Oh you are here to pick up the history you left behind!" Jayadeva heard a touch of sarcasm in Udara's words, and he wanted to change the topic.

"Yes, it's true that I write my silly Sinhala and English poems from Perth.

Why have you given up your writing, Udara? Haven't you written at least a few more poems for Maljini?" Jayadeva asked a personal question reminding Udara about another young student; a medical student named Sarojini who also attended the literary circle meetings during their Peradeniya days."

"Oh do you still remember my silly love poems?" laughed Udara avoiding a heavy vehicle coming strait onto the car and avoiding a head-on-collusion.

"You guys must deserve a special medal for driving on these roads," Jayadeva said by lowering his voice down this time.

"So have you forgotten the past then; the chaos on our roads! Don't you see that our roads and drivers are a part of our culture; Sri Lankan culture! If you note carefully, you would find a pattern in our chaos! I haven't been to your Perth, but when I attended a short-course in Economic Productivity at ANU, I learnt how good Australian drivers are.

But I didn't like your Canberra; a ghost city built for politicians and public servants! Look at our Jayawardena Pura, perhaps a corrupt place, but a vibrant new city, and not that old Kotte we knew."

"So you didn't like Canberra ah!" Jayadeva laughed and continued,

"So did you learn anything about Economic Productivity, then?"

"What rubbish? What could Australians teach us, the good civil servants from Sri Lanka! My program was sponsored by AusAid funding, and I managed to bring some foreign exchange home! AusAid per diems are good for poorly paid Sri Lankans," laughed Udara.

Their conversation was disjointed but the topics touched their lives and living in two countries that were like sky above and mud below.

When Jayadeva saw the Malsiri Pura sign post, he realised that another journey would come to an end soon.

Just after they reached Kurunagala town limits, Udara turned the vehicle to Lake Road to Jayadeva's surprise.

Jayadeva had visited his old friend's ancestral house at the Inner Circular Road, during their university days, but didn't know that he had recently built a new house near the lake side. Those undergraduates who used to visit Udara's home always admire his mother's and his warm hospitality.

When Udara slowed down the car near the bund of the lake and drove the vehicle onto a carport of a large house, Jayadeva realised that he had come to receive that warm hospitality of the old friend again.

The gentle wind that came through the gaps of three large rocks that guarded Udara's sense of place brought a refreshing warm feeling to Jayadeva's body and soul.

(To be continued)

Glossary of Terms

Tissa weva - A large water reservoir built by King Devanampiya Tissa.(250-210 BC).

Lova Maha Paya - (The great copper roofed mansion) Now only remained as hundreds of stone pillars, but was a nine storied building situated between Ruvanweliseya and Sri Mahabodiya (The scared bo-tree).

According to chronicles, it was built for the students engaged in religious activities. It is estimate that the building was 47 metres in height, and the length of each side was 46 metres.

ANU - Australian National University

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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