Enchantress Lanka

  Enchantress

  Lanka

  A Collection of Poems about

  the Pearl of the Indian Ocean

  by

  Devika Fernando

  Copyright © 2018 Devika Fernando

  All rights reserved

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  What though the spice breezes

  Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle;

  Though every prospect pleases

  And only man is vile.

  (Reginald Heber)

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  A FOREWORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  ENCHANTRESS

  THE SEA

  GEOMETRY

  SERENDIB’S SERENADE

  MYSTERIOUS MAIDENS

  RETURN HOME

  MONSOON HAPPENS

  IN THE AFTERNOON

  GOSSIP

  JOURNEY

  SHARPEN YOUR SENSES

  PLEASE, SIR

  SRI LANKA

  RAIN SONG

  IT’S A HARD LIFE

  NAMO NAMO MATHA

  TRADING TRADITIONS

  WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

  MULTI-FACED LANKA

  ANIMALISM

  WAR

  BE WHO YOU ARE

  MOTHERS

  IT’S TIME

  LION’S LAND

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A FOREWORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  As the daughter of a Sri Lankan and a German, and as a woman who was born on this island in the Indian Ocean but spent the first 19 years of her life in Europe, I have always found this country intriguing. Often a mystery, sometimes a pain in the neck, and at other times too fascinating for its own good, it’s spoken to the poet in me, and I’ve finally decided to publish my thoughts.

  Please bear in mind that these poems have been written over the course of nearly a decade and might address subjects that have now lost some of their blood-curdling relevance. Poetry, to me, is something intensely personal yet also something that speaks to all of us in its own way, and as such I am presenting Sri Lanka how I see it, how I live it.

  I wish to dedicate this collection of poems to my husband, who taught me how to love a complicated, mesmerizing country that was never quite mine and never quite its own either.

  ENCHANTRESS

  Sinhala-dvipa smiled enchantingly

  Her bays were wide and shallow

  The Indians entered demandingly

  Allowed the jungle to swallow

  Roar of the lion, threateningly

  Scream of natives, deafeningly

  There was slaughter and love

  Nature did take its fatal course

  A nation was born to enchantress Sinhala-dvipa

  Cilao smiled enchantingly

  Her beaches were copper-tinted

  The Portuguese entered demandingly

  Thus the beauty was partly stinted

  Smell of the spices, intriguingly

  Fusion of cultures, ambiguously

  There was domination and defeat

  Marvels overcome by pure greed

  A nation was born to enchantress Cilao

  Ceilan smiled enchantingly

  Her fruits abounded, delicious

  The Dutch entered demandingly

  Built mansions, forever ambitious

  Song of the bird, forebodingly

  Tears of the women, imploringly

  There was mangling and mingling

  Civilization hit without an inkling

  A nation was born to enchantress Ceilan

  Ceylon smiled enchantingly

  Her location was strategically right

  The British entered demandingly

  Crashed in with their colonial might

  The clinking of glasses, thrillingly

  Groans of the workers, unwillingly

  There was progress and poverty

  Splendid years for an elite minority

  A nation was born to enchantress Ceylon

  Sri Lanka smiles enchantingly

  Her sea and skies are oh-so blue

  The Tourists enter demandingly

  Money is needed, what else to do

  Explosions of bombs, undeniably

  But foreigners pour in so reliably

  There is street food, flooding and fight

  As this culture struggles toward the light

  A nation was born to enchantress Sri Lanka

  But it’s turning against its ancient mother

  With a spell completely of its very own

  Foreigners came, saw and conquered

  Foreigners come, see, photograph and flee

  Back then cultures were enriched, mostly

  And traditions were stubbornly defended

  Nowadays culture is fake, revived ghostly

  And modernity’s damage has to be mended

  A problem was born to this enchantress island

  Serendib, Rathnadeepa – Island of the Gems

  Thambapani, Taprobane – Copper Shores

  Zeloan, Zeilan – preferably Seyllan, Ceilon

  Sword, religion and language formed Ceylon

  Pendant dangling from India’s slim earlobe

  Tear drop trembling forever on Asia’s chin

  Many-named and much-famed is our enchantress

  Pearl of the Indian Ocean smiled too enchantingly

  Thus more than a nation was born to this island

  THE SEA

  On Monday, I looked at the sea

  And its appearance filled me with glee

  It was an aquamarine silk cloth

  Softly rippled by the mild breeze

  Embroidered with sunshine sequins

  On Tuesday, I looked at the sea

  And there was nothing for me to see

  It had all drawn back into itself

  The shoreline on the far horizon

  Preparing to crash back in with force

  On Wednesday, I looked at the sea

  And was desperately searching it for thee

  It had devoured half of the island

  Destroying, spreading tsunami terror

  Washing away animals, humans…all

  On Thursday, I looked at the sea

  And it stared horridly right back at me

  It was full of rotten fish belly-up

  Goggle-eyed and horror-scaled

  The ocean had a digestion problem

  On Friday, I looked at the sea

  And it seemed like a huge mirror to me

  It was a silver-grey even plane

  Reflecting the sun’s glare harshly

  Seeming so hard it might cut you

  On Saturday, I looked at the sea

  And it sparkled in a lush turquoise vividly

  It was deep and wavy and foamy

  Right out of a tourist catalogue

  The most charming sight to behold

  On Sunday, I looked at the sea

  And it seemed then to be at its most busy

  It was aglow with fishermen and fish

  Sporting tanned foreign swimmers

  Aquarium and swimming pool in one

  GEOMETRY

  Paddy-field terraces

  Full of hidden crevices

  Lush tea-bush slopes

  Where aroma elopes

  Zig-zag and criss-cross

  Hither and tither, to and fro

  You never
know what pattern will show

  You just follow the geometry’s flow

  Palm fronds and banana leaves

  They are also pattern thieves

  A quilt of different greens

  Who knows what it means

  Zig-zag and criss-cross

  Hither and tither, to and fro

  Where it leads to you never know

  You just follow the geometry’s flow

  Paddy-field terraces

  Full of hidden terrors

  Tea-bush slopes

  Lush with human hopes

  Zig-zag and criss-cross

  Hither and tither, to and fro

  Giving the land a special glow

  Making everyone follow geometry’s flow

  This is a land of geometry

  With a landscape full of mathematics

  Mountain ranges depict

  The knuckles on a lover’s calloused hand

  Mountain peaks cast

  Shadows in a perfect triangle’s shape

  There’s a Rock looking like the Bible

  There’s a holy mount with a footprint on the top

  And a Mount belonging to a girl named Lavinia

  It’s a landscape full of advanced mathematics

  In this land of Asian geometry

  This is a land of geometry

  With mathematics of its own

  Bodies look different

  With cinnamon on a lover’s chocolate skin

  Women look different

  With coconut oil and jasmine in their hair

  There’s bitter-chocolate skin and coffee one

  There’s a choice between caramel and ivory

  And blistering heat covering all with green shadows

  It’s a landscape full of complex calculations

  In this land of mysterious geometry

  This is a land of geometry

  With social mathematic theories

  A semi non-existent caste system

  Supporting a low-land up-country divide

  A semi non-existent political system

  Igniting a fierce Sri Lankan Tamil friction

  There’s peaceful co-existence of religions

  There’s stubborn maintenance of traditions

  And a common multi-colonial history’s impact

  There’s a society full of arithmetic riddles

  In this land of un-geometric geometry

  SERENDIB’S SERENADE

  Lull me to sleep

  With whispering breezes carrying the sultry salty tang of the ocean

  Rock me to sleep

  With gently lapping waves that weave a mesh of mermaid dreams

  Sing me to sleep

  With the dull rushing roar inside seashells like the beat of a heart

  Soothe me to sleep

  With the golden glow of the moon mirrored on the silky sea surface

  Lull me to sleep

  With a proud peacock’s plaintive cry and a dove’s cautious cooing

  Rock me to sleep

  With the breeze stirring palm fronds, the thunk of a fallen coconut

  Sing me to sleep

  With the curious chattering of a parrot and the chirp of a squirrel

  Soothe me to sleep

  With the plaintive moo of a cow as the monkeys are silent at last

  Lull me to sleep

  With the scent of plumeria mingling with the fragrant night jasmine

  Rock me to sleep

  On a rattan chair, a woven mat, a lumpy mattress, a soft hotel bed

  Sing me to sleep

  While the bats gobble fruits and mangoes ripen to juicy promises

  Soothe me to sleep

  With the lingering smell of curries and the hope for steamy milk rice

  Lull me to sleep

  Shrouded in fog so thick that magic enters the hazy realm of dreams

  Rock me to sleep

  Where the nose discerns Ceylon tea or stealthy cinnamon seduction

  Sing me to sleep

  So I may rise to the rhythmic chanting of monks and a distant drum

  Soothe me to sleep

  On an island once called Serendib where you awaken to serendipity

  MYSTERIOUS MAIDENS

  In a rock unprepossessing at first glance

  Can be found a cavernous world of its own

  Too glorious to be mere happenstance

  You’ll find a kingdom painted on stone

  As soon as your eyes adjust to the gloom

  They will widen in delighted surprise

  For adorning the rock walls there loom

  Enchanting ancient murals in life size

  A large group of women, clusters of bodies

  One more beautiful than the other to behold

  Every man’s dream this wall picture embodies

  In fiery reds, orange, warm ochre and gold

  Beautiful beings

  Curvaceous creatures

  Luscious lovers

  Mysterious maidens

  Figures forever portrayed on silent solid rock

  Seemingly going about their own business

  Their inviting secretive smiles ever mock

  The centuries old paints still show crispness

  Voluptuous bodies like moulded out of clay

  Ornate head gear yet the upper bodies bare

  Spectators can hardly keep desire at bay

  Of their timeless beauty so acutely aware

  For years and years scientists have wondered

  What marvellous ladies does this fresco depict?

  Is it mere imagination of a mind that wandered?

  Or of a splendid lavish past a truthful relict?

  Alluring angels

  Flirtatious fairies

  Gorgeous geishas

  Mysterious maidens

  Firm round breasts like king coconuts gleam

  Glittering jewellery surrounds fair delicate faces

  A sight that conjures up sighs, out of a dream

  Of arrogance and innocence you find traces

  Offering flowers or the fruits of temptation

  Are these royal concubines enjoying a rest?

  A vision so extraordinary it begs veneration

  Their haughty tenderness a scientific quest

  Are these wives or slaves, humans or even gods?

  Who were the genius creators of this mirage?

  Tourists and locals alike flock there in hordes

  To behold this miracle set on a natural stage

  Celestial charmers

  Dazzling dames

  Sensual sirens

  Mysterious maidens

  *The author is referring to the Sigiriya frescoes.

  RETURN HOME

  It’s so familiar, well remembered

  The clanging of the latch

  The screeching of the iron gate

  The crunching of the gravel path

  Your body still recalls the actions

  Of standing on tip-toes

  Of slightly lifting while pushing open

  Of stepping around mounds of dog shit

  While approaching the house

  It’s so familiar, well remembered

  The fading yellow paint

  The steep slanting red-tiled roof

  The white iron-grilled cloudy windows

  Your eyes still recall the sight

  Of paint blistering in the heat

  Of crows perching on the gutters

  Of creepers wound around window bars

  While approaching the house

  It’s unfamiliar, yet expected

  The darkness within

  The emptiness inside rooms

  The quietness of a former family home

  You can’t conjure up now

  Sunshine filtering through the roof

  Furniture crammed with belongings

  A cacophony of voices and life sounds

  While walking through the house

  It’s unfamiliar, yet expected />
  The dust on the photographs

  The secret animal life in the kitchen

  The mouldy smell clinging to the walls

  You can’t conjure up now

  A busily cleaning servant girl

  A mother cooking fragrantly spicy meals

  A story-telling father and a loyal mongrel dog

  While walking through the house

  From the outside it’s still the same

  Blazing heat and chattering birds

  A sturdy house with a flower garden

  But now you’re not used to heat and noise

  And the weeds have claimed the territory

  At first glance it’s still the same

  The wicker and jack-wood furniture

  The fans, flower vases and Buddha statue

  But mildew and insects have settled in

  And the things are now nobody’s belongings

  The gate is rustier than ever, its clanging shrill

  The building is bloated and windows are vacant

  The rooms are long unoccupied by dear humans

  The father vanished in the midst of a raging war

  The mother has died from loneliness and old age

  The Tamil servant girl returned to the North

  The adopted stray dog resides in animal heaven

  You left for abroad as a young idealist back then

  And life here went on in its very own fashion

  Without you things moved on at another pace

  At this place at once familiar and unfamiliar

  Bad idea to have come back finally, too late

  For a last look, a renewing of dusty memories

  The fondly remembered situation has changed

  And so you end up asking yourself sadly

  If it’s really a Return Home or merely a Return