 Affection
by Piyasiri Baddevithana
A cry of the infant excited the
whole village. Everyone of the village ran to the deserted house which
was situated nearby by the side of a path in a hidden corner of the
village. But, I could not run and find the cause for this great
commotion as I was then ten years old. Even though, I was not a grown
up, it was not difficult for me to understand what I overheard the
villagers were uttering about the cause for this unrest among the people
of the vicinity.
“An infant of three months is abandoned in a dilapidated, deserted
house. A lovely little one”. One woman told the other in a shocked,
trembling voice. But, I knew nothing more about that incident until
recently. This was a special subject matter of the villagers for several
days and they forgot it like all their other ordinary matters which they
have to face constantly. This fact haunted my mind too for several days
and faded away from the memory like a dark cloud which covers the
shining moon.
 The time passed unknowingly leaving a flood of both sweet and bitter
memories in my mind. It was very late that night when I returned home. A
middle aged couple had been waiting several hours for me with an
envelope in their hand. As soon as they noticed me their faces bloomed
with happiness as if I was their saviour. I broke the silence as they
kept quiet.
“Have you been waiting for me a long time?” “Yes Sir, about two
hours”. I sat on one of the chairs which was in front of them and
inquired the reason for their visit. They took a paper out of the
envelope which they had kept in their hands and offered it to me with
both hands. It was a lengthy letter written in English. They wanted me
to explain it in the mother tongue as they couldn’t understand English.
I was excited to know what the letter contained. I went through the
letter in double quick time as the visitors were eagerly and impatiently
waiting.
“Dear Geetha, I received your address from one of the agencies in
Netherlands with the assistance of the Sri Lanka agency. You would be
astonished to hear from me and you won’t be able to speculate who I am.
I am a twenty two year old girl now. In my childhood I did not feel
any difference among my friends. But when I grew up, I started to notice
changes like skin complexion and colour of hair. I have black eyes and
brownish curly hair. My playmates very often talked about this
mismatching. I was the cynosure of all eyes. Now I am matured enough to
realise reasons for these differences.
I learnt from my foster parents that I am an alien to Netherlands.
Netherlands is only my adopted country. Although I did not feel the lack
of warmth and affection from my kind and loving foster parents I have a
great desire to know my real parents. Certainly that would bring a ray
of comfort to my burning heart like a drizzle which brings coldness to a
hot rock burnt by the scorching sun.
I cannot imagine how a mother plays with the fate of her own child.
However, I have a keen desire to see you and share some kind words with
you. When I finished explaining the letter, the lady who was in front of
me started to sob. I earnestly listened to her, “Sir, I am the most
sinful woman in this world. As that child was an illegitimate daughter
of mine, I had to give her to one of my aunts to bring her up.
But she had secretly sold my poor, innocent little one to a “Sudu
Mahatthaya” from a foreign country. As it was useless searching for her
further, I had to give up all thoughts of her. Pointing the man who was
next to her she told “This man is responsible for this because when I
started a new life with him once that aunty who took my child to bring
her up had abandoned my little one in an isolated house in the village.
“Really I wanted to keep my child with me, but I was prevented from
keeping her by this cruel man”. She repeated it. “So that I returned her
unwillingly to that aunty once again with the promise of taking her back
as quickly as possible. But I couldn’t see her thereafter.”
My mind started to recollect - a memory which was hidden in a deep
corner of my mind. |
