Guardian of the treasure

I had an uncle by the name of Rodolf Rodrigo. He was a bachelor and very much arrogant in his ways, just as his name sounds. He was a Government Surveyor.

During the early part of 1960 he was stationed at a place called Muriyakadawela, a few miles beyond Kekirawa in the Anuradhapura District. He had put up camp at the foot of Ritigala hills and was in charge of a survey of government property around that area. It was believed that the rock mountain of Ritigala had been an abode for a group of hermits during the period of ancient Kings.

My uncle used to tell us that he had heard from the villagers that an ancient treasure, lay within the ruins on the hills and that several times he had attempted to go with his workers with dynamite to blow up the caves in search of the hidden treasure.

However, the villagers, on each occasion had protested on his arrogant behaviour and warned him that such intrusions would bring about a curse not only on him but on the whole village.

As a young lad I was thrilled when my uncle invited me to spend a few days at his site during the April vacation.

At the site, while the labourers lived within the tent my uncle had rented a small room in a house close to the camp.

I too was allowed to stay in the same room and sleep on a mat while my uncle occupied the bed. On the second day during my stay, at close upon midnight I heard somebody knocking at the door, I remember my uncle getting up from bed speaking to the visitor at the door.

I thought a labourer had come to give a message regarding the sick worker who was down with Malaria, at the camp.

However, from the few words I heard, I gathered that the visitor had a very deep voice and the words he spoke were not those of an ordinary labourer but of a man of learning.

The Sinhala words he used resembled those I have read in ancient text books. However, I could not see the visitor from my position on the mat. After speaking with the visitor my uncle turned back to the room, put on a shirt and went out. I fell asleep as I could not keep awake for his return.

In the morning I found that my uncle had not yet returned. I was scared and woke up the inmates of the house. They inquired from the camp whether any one of them summoned him from the room. We were all shocked to learn that none of them had called my uncle that night.

A search was made on the rock mountain as a Surveyor's pencil that had fallen from the shirt pocket of my uncle suggested that he had gone in the direction of the rock mountain.

After several hours of searching among the bushes and rocks on the hills, the labourers had heard a faint cry high up on the cliffs and there, he was found, fallen into a very deep gap among the rocks. He was taken out with the help of ropes, he could hardly speak, his body was bruised and cut, his face swollen with ant bites.

As soon as he recovered after being hospitalised for a few days, my uncle related the mysterious mission. The midnight visitor, my uncle told us, resembled a hermit with long hair and dressed in a flowing robe as in ancient times.

He had called my uncle and promised to lead him to a treasure so that he need not try to blast rocks thereafter, through greed for the sudden windfall my uncle had followed him.

Halfway after climbing the mountain the hermit had suddenly vanished and my uncle had got lost in the dark and looking for a way back he had slipped and fallen into a deep cavity in the cliff.

After that incident my uncle constantly fell ill. He was not healthy and adventurous as before. He was compelled to retire prematurely due to ill-health and passed away on a sick bed, few years after retirement.

A. V. Abeynaike