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| Sunday, 25 July 2004 |
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Features |  |
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Life with William : He goes a-courting by Carol Aloysius Man Friday William falls in love... For the past week, Man Friday William has been wearing a far away expression on his face, breaking into melancholic sighs in the middle of his cooking. His moods have also changed, swinging from a high to a low.
"Whatever is the matter?," I ask him when I hear him give a loud sigh for the umpteenth time in the middle of his household chores. As his sixty ninth birthday is round the corner, I wonder whether old age blues has finally caught up with him. I couldn't have been more wrong. Wearing a sheepish smile, and refusing to look me in the face, he reluctantly confesses, "I'm in love Nona". He could have knocked me down with a feather. I had always thought my man Friday was a woman hater and a confirmed bachelor. But I was mistaken. "So what's the problem?", I ask. "Why do you look so worried? "My affections are divided between two women, and I can't make up my mind as to who I really want as my girl friend", he tells me. Taken aback I ask him who the lucky ones are. Do I know them? Have I seen them? "Of course," he says in a tone that indicate that I should have known better. "They are Gnanawathi and Ariyawathi". I should have guessed. The two women he is referring to are none other than my vegetable vendor for over thirty years, and a former domestic who had practically grown up with me. Both women are daily visitors to my house . Ariyawathi who has now turned street vendor of patched linen and children's clothes comes down my lane everyday to sell her wares to a growing clientele at Vipulasena Mawatha, while Gnanawathi is at my door step every morning when she brings me fresh vegetables. Both women, though in their early sixties still bear vestiges of their early beauty, which had once earned them the reputation of being the Mariakade Beauties. When they visit me, they never fail to make a bee line to the kitchen to update William with the latest gossip in exchange for a cup of sweetened kahata (plain tea) and sometimes a special treat of konde kavum and laveriya. In return, he receives a love song (from Gnanawathi) and a coquettish smile and loud giggle from Ariyawathi. "So what are you going to do about it?," I ask him. "Who will you choose? "Eeke thamai mage lokuma prashnaya Nona. Mage hitha karadara venne me prashnaya nisa." (This is my problem lady. I am sad because I am unable to choose between them). "How about tossing a coin? Heads up and Ariyawathi becomes your choice. Tails up and Gnanawathi becomes your lady love", I reply in a flippant tone, in a vain effort to make light of his problem. But William refuses to cheer up. Instead he gives me a disdainful look and disappears into his room. An hour later, I see him stealthily walking out of the house, wearing the blue sarong and matching shirt I gave him for the Sinhala New Year, his hair combed neatly and oiled with vaseline and his face liberally sprinkled with talcum powder. Apart from his umbrella, which he never fails to carry, I see that he is carrying a bag stuffed with what looks suspiciously like the mangoes that were ripening on my tree in the backyard. "Is that parcel of mangoes for Gnanawathi or Ariyawathi?", I ask him. "For whoever I meet first!", he retorts with a mischievous grin. I wish him luck as I watch him swinging his umbrella and whistling a happy tune. I see him surreptitiously plucking two of my best roses from my flower garden and putting them into a sili sili bag. They must be for Ariyawathi and Gnanawathi I guess not having the heart to reprimand him. So far, everything seems to have gone well for William. He has now temporarily given up his obsession with the stage. Instead, he has taken to singing doleful love songs even while working and frequently disappears into his room to write passionate love poems to his two ladies. I can only hope and pray he will come out unscathed if and when he plucks up courage to tell Gnanawathi and Ariyawathi which of them he really wants! |
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On some days he would awake early morning in a bubbly mood shattering
our sleep with his loud rendering of "Sithin vitharak pem karannam,
durin oba desa balannam". By noon, I would find him walking around
the house with a mournful expression as if the whole world is collapsing
around him.
