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| Sunday, 5 January 2003 |
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Sel lipi : Spicy breezes Swasthi Shree! Thus says his sacred Majesty, the gracious Great King, glorious Chakravarthi, King of the Kings of Maya, Pihiti and Ruhuna, Mahoora of the Vanniala-aeththo and ruler of all lands from Yapapatuna to Sampanthota: Lo! It is now nigh on two hundred years since the Parangiya Heber, the Khraisthava mahanayaka of Calcutta wrote his famous bhakthi geeya in reference to the spicy madha pavana of this resplendent isle of Lanka - with its pleasant scenes, where only men are salelu and where theertha-vaadhi mugdayas make obeisance to gas-gal. Now it has come to the notice of the Maha Vasala that the winds of Sinhala blow with a different fragrance. This is especially apparent in Colomb-thota - no mean city - and its suburbs. The blowing of the sea breeze wafts to the nostrils of the virtuous inhabitants of that mighty metropolis a new aroma. Alas! The scented winds bear, not the pleasing perfume of cinnamon, black pepper, cloves or nutmeg, but the putrescence of rotting vegetables, decaying meat and other waste matter spewed out from the households, shops and kammal of that vast conurbation. Even the Maha Vasala itself is assailed by the unbearable stench of putrefying kunu-kasala. What is the cause of this unedifying foetor? Is it a punishment sent down to the denizens of the thriving entrepot of Colomb-thota for some transgression on their part? Is it the karma of the citizens, that the whole place should be as graveolent as the mouth of one who has borne false tales in his previous birth? Colomb-thota is, of course, almost a jala durga, a water fortress surrounded by rivers and canals and is criss-crossed with waterways and artificial lakes. Into all these waterways are emptied all manner of filth from sewers and houses and they stagnate. Yet the mephitis of the unmoving waters has been with us for many decades and our nostrils have grown used to it. Then there are the myriad rathas entering and leaving the conurbation daily, spewing forth the vile smoke and fumes of the magical thel of the Yonaka desa. These vapours are added to by the emanations of burning household filth in the dreaded sili-sili bags. On top of all these natural and unnatural vayus, we find the people celebrating the Parangi Aluth Avurudhu, as well as the Khraisthava version of Vesak, by exploding cheena patas and ahas vedili (making a noise like the rumblings of the chariot of Sakra) with an acrid taint like that emanating from the Yama-lokaya, where the lord of death punishes miscreants with fire and sulphur. But not even the dreaded fumes mentioned above can rival the disgusting stink that permeates the air around the great city. No, the source of this all-pervading reek lies on the way to the harbour, in the area the Landesi called 'the dale of flowers'. There, a mighty mountain - like unto Samanala Kandha itself rises, built up of the collected waste of every home, every shop and every kammala in the municipality. Within it the filth suppurates and exhales its foetid vapours, which are wafted to every corner of the sublime city. So what is to be done? Will the powers that be eliminate this foul massif of dirt? It seems unlikely. The ultimate consequence might well be that the tor collapses on itself, letting forth an explosion of malodour which will overpower everyone within seven gauwas of it. So all citizens are advised to prepare masks to wear over their noses in case of such an eventuality. Swasthi Shree! This rock edict is made on this day of Ravi of the month of Duruthu of the Year of the Saka Era 1929. - Gothabaya |
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