The Oonapoorana Sinhala news supplement

The Sinhala newspapers that made their debut in the 1860 - 1870 decade thereby breaking the monopoly held by the English newspapers boldly experimented with many an innovation despite the fact that they were yet in the teething stage. One was to include a supplement that carried the name Oonapoorna (filling a hiatus).

Though I intended this piece on memoirs of my own life now trailing to an end (the Buddhist environment around me acclimatising me to the inevitability of it all) I cannot resist the temptation to look back and dwell a bit further on the Oonapurna . Most notable was the one put out by Lak Rivi Kirana to celebrate the advent of Duke of Edinburgh (Prince Alfred) and give the reader an idea of the ostentatious preparations entailed.

The 1870 March 29th supplement details how the lives of the elk population of Bopattalawa were terminated for the pleasure of this second son of Victoria, queen of England.

The prince was intent on a hunting spree in the Orient. So one of the items scheduled for the entertainment of the Prince was the Elk Hunt in this area close to Hatton. That Hatton was only the name of an estate at this time is evident from the account.

"The day the Prince was to arrive here, breakfast would be served at the estate,Kirk Oswald and dinner at the estate named Hatton", so runs the Ooonapurna .

Genesis

By the way, that gives the genesis of the name, Hatton now a bustling upcountry town then a mere estate. Legend gives further news that "Hatton", the name of the estate itself derived from 'Hat On', because all the officers there wore hats.

Coming back to the main tale, the Prince was expected to entertain onlookers by killing all the elk in the area with the aid of about 600 trained dogs and two Burghers, Corbert and Mindell. Anyway the editor of Lak Rivi Kirana can be excused for providing such details since he allots a column for what the masses think of it all.

Hobbies

Here is one from Juan Fernando "Please note that the prince came to indulge in luxury hobbies when the island was undergoing a severe rice crisis that occurred during Governor Robinson's time who overlooked the shrunken bellies and allotted 24,000 pounds for the festivities involved with the advent of the prince. Here is Juan in "Letters to the Editor "column, another early innovation in Sinhala newspapers.

"Juan" could be even a nom de plume used by one critical of the whole grand show envisioned to impress the regal visitor.

"All in our island are waiting impatiently to set eyes on the Great Prince scheduled to land in our Kolon city next month.

Rich as well as the poor are so anxious including poor me. But I have a problem. My wife is already on the war path having scented my eagerness to go to the city to view the Great One.

She goes on in this style, Ah, Bola ado, What are we going to feed on when you are away? Am I to boil your flesh when the starving kids yell out? "Juan Fernando, Hettiyakande ferocious and utterly irrational for the man cannot be boiled as he will be already gawking at the Prince at the Mariyaweli harbour (the harbour was called so then) where a huge pandal had been set up... In fact scores of pandals had been set up all over the city by those hankering after titles.

Now for the translated verse addressed to ants that are credited with a monarchy...

"Oh! You ants - you too have a king

But we do not - that is why we are so sad

If we get a king - we will raise our banners and standards

Blow the conches and fill the air with echoes of Saadhu .

Appointment

Just a few days after my husband's sudden death I got an appointment to the Education Ministry office in Malay Street, Colombo to run the creative writing project for children, islandwide. It was too good a thing to disregard especially as I was hailing from the lowlands and no Kandyan woman, seem to have suddenly got stranded among the hills of Mahanuwara with my children.

I boarded my children at Trinity where they were studying, perhaps a rather short-sighted act but my mind was not very clear in the confusion that an Eastern woman widowed in her 40s gets subject to and so began my weekly trek to Colombo in mid 1980s.

Every Monday morning I come down by the Yakada Yaka to the great city that yet holds me in its dear grasp, glorious marriage feted by a book on it, now going on to the third print excluding a plagiarised version by somebody.

I make my exit to the highlands every Friday evening in the same Grease Yaka , sorry, Yakada Yaka ..To mitigate the boredom (you can't be always admiring the gorgeous scenery around) I made contacts with some odd daily travellers as the aspiring writer who kept a daily account of the multi-things that happens in trains, especially to women.

They fall in love, they give birth to kids, they are raped, they fall prey to scheming males, they quarrel, they are robbed and finally they are killed and some of them, at loose ends, commit suicide. Dhanapala, the aspiring author, wished to get the whole wretched and not-wretched account published and solicited my aid but the project never materialised. "The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray" said the Bard.

Sumana, my generous host in Colombo 5 or 6, and I spent evenings chatting on many a distant topic like the old jetty when suddenly Sumana observed that we keep on jabbering in a foreign language the whole time.

After that I began to speak in Sinhala with her, of course strangely slipping more into the mother tongue of a race living 1000s of miles away.. One Friday evening, I shouted out to her, "Sumana, mama yanawa" (Sumana, I am going"). Of course to the station, to the hills where my house on the hill, Ambuluwava, stood. Sumana peeped through the window and remarked jocosely, "I am sure that you did not study in a school of Sinhala Buddhist environment."

Curious

"You are correct" I said curious as to how she had guessed it for I had never revealed my life-story to her, nor had she asked.

We had become friends via the newspapers after a long intricate article of mine on "Leela's polos curry" had appeared in the Sunday Observer . So I asked how she guessed my school environment."If you did, that is, had you studied in a school as Visakha you will not say, Mama,yanawa " But " Mama gihin ennam ".( I will go and come) Obediently I said. "Sumana, Mama gihin ennam".

On the way I thought that I could return to Sumana's house only if any of the many things that Dhanapala had mentioned in his strange diary did not happen to me in the train. But yet it instilled some hope just to say it! That is Sinhala, shall we say, Sri Lankan optimism that came in very handy recently too while the world's most ferocious terrorist group badgered and battered us for 30 years.