|
|
 |
 |
| Sunday, 13 April 2003 |
 |
|
 |
Features |  |
| News Business Features Editorial
|
Swings to swing on, houses to visit...
'What we all look forward to throughout the year is quite near at hand. It is in the air from north to south, from east to west, in every mountain hamlet and seaside fishing village.' That is how J. Vijayatunga begins the 13th chapter - Harvest and New Year - of his celebrated cameo of village life in the Ceylon of the early 1900's, 'Grass For My Feet,' which some have looked at askance saying it is based too much on sentiment, but which this writer - literary critics aside - considers one of the best books on life in rural Ceylon of the time. The book is autobiographical in style in that the author relates his day-to-day experiences of his life at home in the village of Baddegama in Galle, where he was born in 1902. 'Grass' has a charm which may be old-fashioned, but to those who find rural areas irresistible, and who long for the roots they never touched, Jinadasa Vijayatunga 's book is just what they need. What strikes the reader - this writer has read the book several times, not always from cover to cover, but often at random - is that Avurudu was felt in the air 'from north to south and from east to west,' in those distant days when the British ruled the country and when the north didn't know what the south was doing and likewise with the east and west. The picture that Vijayatunga has captured of New Year in the village is not very different from what it is even now, except that the commercial side of the festival was not so prominent as it is today - but make no mistake, money did play an important part in the quality of the Avurudu you enjoyed, just as it does today. Kande Mama was a prosperous farmer whose bounty was parcelled out to roundabout households - the author's being one - enabling them to partake of the aluth sahal (new rice) for the new year,perhaps the most important part of the New Year ritual.
For one month before Avurudu, children don't give their parents any peace if the swing has not yet been set up in the outdoors for the great event. Vijayatunga also describes how these village swings are set up, contrasting them with the simple swings in English gardens. There are often references to things English in this book; Vijayatunga was later to go to that country where he spent several years of his life, his second wife being an Englishwoman. There are the delights of the Wanduramba bazaar where everything from the proverbial pin to an elephant was available - Java sarongs for the men and cloth and various knick-knacks for the womenfolk. The big shops - such as they were in those days - had Indian saris for sale for those who could afford them, and lots else to make the New Year enjoyable. The Avurudu table gets a good share of exposure - descriptions of the traditional food which is no different today, except that now the ubiquitous cake is one of the centrepieces of the New Year table. I did not come across any reference to cake in this chapter - most probably there was no cake served on such occasions in rural areas like today where special New Year cakes are made and put on show in the best bakeries in the city as well as in any small village boutique where at least the perennially popular butter cake would be available, colourfully boxed and bearing the legend 'butter cake' or 'tea cake' as the case may be. Vijayatunga says that the dry fish curry was an important item on the New Year table, at least in his home district, and that the best quality dry fish was available in the bazaar. Nowadays in the city, no one mentions the word dry fish at new year; it is sausages and meat balls and chicken that make the table groan; they are the main accompaniments to the central, traditional milk rice (kiri bath) which is mentioned in legend and folklore, down to today's best cookbooks. There are, of course, those who go to the five star hotels to eat 'five-star' kiri bath and traditional new year fare at the sumptuous buffets set up for the festival where the accompanying sambols for the milk rice are as fiery as what is made in the home itchen,although there is the school that says nothing can surpass the home-made fare. New year day is joyous but tiring, like all festival days-also noisy, with all the crackers and fireworks even in the village. Says Vijayatunga: 'New year without crackers is like a naval encounter without cannon.' Night falls and in the village, fireflies light up the darkness while the city is lit by electric jets. 'Night becomes more and more insistent and will not be put off any longer,' Vijayatunga writes. 'But before giving in you thrust a fool's cap and bells on night itself and give it the longest chase it has ever had with you.
When Jinadasa Vijayatunga was specially flown down from England in 1989 on the invitation of President Premadasa, this writer, (I must admit), rushed to interview him at his Colombo hotel where he was staying to see the May Day celebrations. It was a few days to go to the event and he was looking forward to it. He was also looking forward to eating 'buth and pol sambol', and had told the chef to make the sambol as hot as possible.' You can't beat it, you know, buth and pol sambol', he said. I don't know whether he ever got to have his favourite meal in the hotel before moving in to his new home in Nugegoda that had been set up for him by President Premadasa - with two attendants to look after him (the author was suffering from a long-standing heart ailment). Vijayatunga was to live in his new house for only a few weeks; he passed away and was cremated at the General Cemetery, Kanatte, after which his ashes were interred in his beloved village of Urala where the grass caressed his feet in his childhood. |
|
News | Business | Features
| Editorial | Security Produced by Lake House |
Karel Roberts compares the Avurudu celebrations of today with Jinadasa
Vijayatunga's nostalgic evocation of New Year customs and traditions in
his book Grass For My Feet...
Vijayatunga gives detailed descriptions of how the rice is harvested
and who goes into the field and who doesn't. While his aunt Elizabeth who
obviously is not endowed with nature's physical gifts, puts her hand to
the plough, so to speak, his aunt Georgina, a beautiful young woman,does
not go anywhere near the field, not wanting her good looks to be touched
by the mud and soil of the paddy field - even if it was New Year. He
describes the joys of New Year day, especially the rides on the swing
enjoyed by children as well as adults.
You fall asleep on New Year's night thinking of tomorrow and the morrow
after and the days after that and the day after, all of which will, as far
as you are concerned, be each a New Year's day, with swings to swing on,
houses to visit, trees to climb, fruit to eat and exciting company all the
time.'
