Cookubara sits on the old gum tree

by Padma EDIRISINGHE

It was in a huge super market, more or less a sanctum to the billowing prosperity to the mega city, that we met. She was curious to know whether I was a native while reciprocally I exhibited the same curiosity.

Of course, many of our own do look alien and aliens sometimes look our own. It is one big puzzle or jumble as we approach the end. So many complications are setting in till that happens. And an anthropologist may just guffaw at this alien native business.

The “alien” said that she is from Jhihawkee or Minawkee an African state. She said many things here reminded her of her native land. She had been away in our hill capital these last few days. I expected her to gush over the sacred buildings and the sheer beauty of the lake reflecting the resplendent settings and embroidered with many a tale of the past. But here she was.

“Coming back I noticed a man climbing a tree. It reminded me of home” she wiped away a tear reminiscent of the way the Chinese pilgrim monk, Fa Hsien did in the 5th century AD when he set eyes on a Chinese fan in the hand of a pilgrim in Ruwanveli premises in Anuradhapura. The famous scholar writes,” I cried when I saw it (the fan). I have been so long away from home that it reminded me of my dear country”.

Granted that but a man climbing a tree making you want to cry? I was on the point of saying that in almost all Asian countries are umpteen nuts in varied sizes and shapes that have to be picked. Or removed some other way.

“The man with rippling muscles was almost nude, a thin strand of cloth running between the buttocks and a huge knife stuck into his waistband. Do you know that very image is imprinted on our stamps, for it is so native to our culture”.

“The classy women of our society hate the stamp and blush when they see it. They act awful for the stamps are not auto—pasty and manual tricks have to be done when they are short of gum”.

Funny things happen to me as suddenly getting transposed.

Back I was thrown into a post office of a suburb city when I was on a quest for gum about a month back prior to this meeting. I held an envelope that defied auto—pasting. Walking all over the PO I could see no gum. Walked to the counter, put on my best smile and told the female, that there is no gum. Gum, by the way should be the chief ingredient in a post office with these non pasting envelopes and all as in Jhiwakee or Minowakeee. Prince of Denmark played minus Hamlet, sort of.The PO worker informed me that this whole year that she is yearning to set eyes on some gum. It was March 2011.

“The annual quota for the year is yet to come,” she proclaimed.
“Loaded with fabled treasures,
They come
Cruising on the Indian Ocean
To the Island of Serendib”
The fabled treasures have to include gum.

“Does the gum come by ship?” Poor woman. Battered by a whole day’s labour, the humour was lost on her as she said, “I don‘t know from where it comes or how it comes, but it always comes towards the end of the year”.

Trying to be more nasty I said I would then come by the end of the year to post this blessed thing.

“No, she said, “Try a shop”.

Obediently I got out and was exposed to the luxury of the sub city. Mannequins of all shapes and sizes promenaded outside shop windows as though just dropped from heaven when Guttila Pundit played his flute much to the dismay of poor Moosilaya. Stalls suffused with shoes with about six inches heels all over. This is no developing world but a completely developed world as far as needless commodities were concerned. Gods!, I wondered, who was buying it all? Could not be the women going about in dirty worn out sandals.

And my gum! Not a particle in sight, not even a “God particle”. Then I spotted a newspaper stall and a male in white banian and cloth was standing out grinning at poor gumless me orphaned in the urban wilderness. It was a look that pierced my soul. I walked up to him and put him my inevitable query about the gum. My message was urgent and had to go to an area minus other advanced communication. Kind man, he walked in to his inner chambers and brought me a tiny bottle of gum saying that I can treasure it for ever and ever in memory of him. Thanking him I used it and began to relate to him my most adventurous journey in search of gum.

He listened amused and then unexpectedly broke into a song.
“Cookubara sits on the old gum tree
Merry merry king of the bush is he
Laugh! Cookubara laugh
Cookubara, gay your life must be!
I was surprised for we sang that at school ages back.

A policeman chased behind a legless miserable beggar walking on his buttocks thundering,” You Kalakanniya! Don't you know that a Lokkek would be driving soon along this road? So, we have to cover all the unsightly things here”. My wandering mind stopped at a Northern Indian State. Had King Suddhodana given that order to the Kaplilavasthu city guards 2500 years ago, you can just imagine the spectacular event that would have been prevented.