Enchantress Lanka, Page 2
Devika Fernando
MONSOON HAPPENS
Drip drip drip…
Water seeps in
Trickles down
Leaks back out
Drip drip drip…
Water leaps in
Creeps through
Drops further down
Drip drip drip…
From one second to the other
The clouds’ jaws open in unison
And the sky vomits rain
There’s a hole in the sky bucket
And the result is heavy rain
The heavenly shower was turned on
And you’re washed by rain
Monsoon happens
From one second to the other
Drip drip drip…
Water rushes in
Pools around you
Is wiped back out
Drip drip drip…
Water gushes in
Soaks everything
Escapes back out
Drip drip drip…
From one second to the other
The sky starts to weep uncontrollably
And we mourn the rain
The clouds all sob continuously
And the sun turns to rain
The storm joins in on the crying session
And wind thrashes the rain
Monsoon happens
From one second to the other
Drip drip drip…
Water sloshes in
Drenches everything
Dribbles further down
Drip drip drip…
Water splashes in
Bathes everybody
Flows back out
Drip drip drip…
From one second to the other
Holes in roof and ceiling are discovered
When they let in the rain
Tarpaulins are drawn over three-wheelers
But don’t keep out the rain
Umbrellas are opened, sarees are lifted
No help at all against the rain
Monsoon happens
From one second to the other
Drip drip drip…
IN THE AFTERNOON
Lying spread-eagled flat on your back
On a scratchy coconut-fibre-mattress bed
Naked but for a film of afternoon sweat
Desperate to catch some of the wafting air
Which the ceiling fan releases only fitfully
Rotating squeakily in the overall dampness
Beads of perspiration adorn you like jewels
A treacle-like trickle over slippery skin
A single drop crawling over cheek and chin
Dripping slowly down into our cleavage
Like the moist tongue-tip of a tender lover
Idly your mind wanders and then wonders
Whether to have the third shower of the day
But getting up is too much of an effort
When the afternoon heat invites sluggishness
You catch a sweat pearl with your tongue
Taste saltiness and think of the vast ocean
Longing for a soothing sea breeze to build up
To make the half dried-up palm fronds
Click and rasp against slender coconut trunks
To bring with it the typical afternoon smells
Of sweet frangipani flowers and arid earth
To flutter the curtains and enter the room
By squeezing past the iron window grills
To do what the languid fan can’t anymore
And rip into the fabric of sultry inside air
To scatter the heat and ruffle your hair
Creating a delicious illusion of coolness
By refreshing you in your half slumber
But no, you’re too far from the sea here
To profit from its blissful tangy breeze
So there’s no escaping the afternoon heat
Even life outside seems to be inert now
Leaves drooping listlessly from dry stems
Crows screeching in protest up at the sky
Infinitely blue and mercilessly cloudless
No ever-curious squirrels scurry about
In search of fruit and rice grains offered
The mangy stray dogs all lull in the shade
Without their usual barking symphony
And the streets are devoid of any humans
Lucky those in air-conditioned offices
And lazy tourists lounging by the poolside
Sipping ice-cold bitter-sweet lime juice
Unlucky those trapped in oven-like houses
With non-insulated baked-tiles roofs
Languishing on bed sheets soaked in sweat
Clinging to the body like a salty second skin
You lie there with sticky eye-lids blinking
And will time to tick forth a little faster
To skip right from post-lunchtime to the
Somewhat cooler period of pre-dinnertime
When dusk and sunset promise less heat
And the shower becomes a real possibility
For the scorching sun will eventually retire
But now you’re still trapped inside heat’s net
In the afternoon of a tropical island far away
GOSSIP
Have you heard, have you heard?
Bluntly, stumbling over each word
What-what? Tell me, please tell me!
Breathless, bending forward eagerly
You won’t believe what I’ve found out!
Boisterous, in a voice twice as loud
Hurry, hurry, I can’t wait to hear it.
Beseechingly, in a real curiosity fit
Bodies lean close, heads tilt even closer
Stories unfold, rumour machine’s ferocious
The malu-man’s fish stinks to heaven
But gossip’s stench seems even worse
It reeks of fresh and old blood and the sea
But the rumour’s smell penetrates it all
The fisherman’s wife has knit a net of tales
And a scandalous fish escaped the web
Isn’t it bad, say, isn’t it terribly bad?
Boldly, implying the other person’s mad
Yes-yes, of course, you’re oh-so right!
Blankly, distracted by a daring sight
I always knew, told you from the start!
Belligerently, piercing the confidant’s heart
We all thought so, it was to be expected.
Believing, search for truth is neglected
Tongues click in disgust, brows rise to the sky
Rumours are working though no-one knows why
The elavalu-man’s vegetables are wrinkled
But the well of gossip will never dry up
He’s tipping the scale in his favour only
Just like gossipers manipulate as they will
The vendor’s daughter has sowed vegetables
And with them has been reaped a tragic tale
Gossip leaps from tongue to tongue
Like a hungry stray dog hunting
Equally immersed in filth
Gossip creeps from house to house
Like a greedy fat crow menacing
Equally egoistic in its nature
Gossip sprints from person to person
Like the dangerous dengue disease
Equally devastating its results
JOURNEY
Foot on accelerator – head knocking against roof
Shake to the left – elbow jamming into door
Thrust to the right – knee jutting against gear
Foot on breaks – head crashing into seat
All neck muscles straining
All back muscles paining
Would you consider complaining?
Bends like jutting elbows
Rocks like jammed knees
Narrow hair-pin passages gone astray
Hair-pin removing jolts on the way
Passengers openly swearing
Car and body need repairing
Would you come close to despairing?
Pot holes with bits of road in between
Bumped and dumped into ditches
Thoroughly shaken and stirred
Whipped up limbs reassembling
While the car continues scrambling
Up a mountain and down a hill
Two paces forward, one lapse back
It’s a journey full of aches and pains
But a reward awaits the daring traveller
It’s a relief from all ills and burdens
When the destination is reached at last
A sigh of contentment, a breath of fresh air
A sight for sore eyes, a treat for your ears
When you eventually behold this miracle
Endless fertile plains – greener than green
Rolling hills and soaring mountain ranges
Paddy field terraces – natural symmetry
Singing birds, mooing cows, a dog or two
Fruitful labour – hands harvesting crops
A lonesome hut with a self-fulfilling life
Oh, how you indeed behold this miracle!
Gazing up high – birds flying colourfully by
A glance to the left – a farmer in the fields
A glimpse to the right – elephants stomp along
Staring out ahead – a scenery so worthwhile
You rub your back and you rub your eyes
What a torture endured, what a view enjoyed
Would you not embark on this journey again?
SHARPEN YOUR SENSES
Hear the crows screeching from the palm-tree top
Hindi songs blaring from the nearby all-round shop
Hear the scuttling of curious squirrels in the trees
The singing of birds and also the humming of bees
Hear the honking of trishaws, of busses and cars
Stray dogs barking and howling at moon and stars
Hear the street vendors selling their products loudly
Buddhist temple loudspeakers preaching proudly
Hear the crashing of the waves and the pelting rain
The terrorist bombs exploding on the evening train
Sharpen your senses and listen to your country
See the sun burn down on beggars and mansions alike
The hungry workers claim the busy streets in a strike
See the tranquil beauty of a beach scenery down south
Exotic vegetables and ripe fruits watering the mouth
See the famished cow lying in the middle of the road
Sweating soldiers carrying their heavy weapons load
See the ruins of ancient cultures and their sacred sites
Four different religions practicing their religious rites
See rocky mountains, mangroves and luscious planes
Billowing exhaust fumes next to overflowing drains
Sharpen your senses and look at your country
Smell the salt and tang of the once tsunami-bearing sea
The superiority of those going abroad with a degree
Smell the fragrance of flowers only blooming at night
The bloody sweat and crazy ardour of terrorist fight
Smell camphor in sarees and coconut oil in long hair
Precious teak and mahogany notes carried in the air
Smell the reeking of burning garbage on the street
Exhaust fumes and flies settling on street-sold meat
Smell incense and oil lamps at a temple and at home
Perfumes of exotic plants that in this country roam
Sharpen your senses and smell your country
Taste the richness of a fruit plucked right from the tree
Indulge in a myriad of aromas of famous Ceylon tea
Taste hot curries prepared in clay pots as cookware
Asian cuisine enjoyed in this neatest tropical flair
Taste appetizing food with a zillion of ground spices
Discover your taste buds left to their own devices
Taste various seafood daily caught in the Indian Ocean
The bitter-sweetness of an Asian mother’s devotion
Taste roasted spicy snacks and most delicious sweets
Truly Asian flavours in anything sold on the streets
Sharpen your senses and taste your country
Feel the gentle breeze contrast with the heat-waves
The sheer horror of witnessing unearthed mass graves
Feel the leathery skin of richly decorated elephants
The misery of a thousand poor hard-working peasants
Feel the sand and the mud beneath your bare soles
The utter despair in the war victims ravaged souls
Feel the joy and reverence in religious processions
The falseness in so many recent political confessions
Feel the pride to belong to the Sri Lankan Nation
Longing for a better future of the young generation
Sharpen your senses and feel your country
PLEASE, SIR
Sir, you have money for me?
A pleading voice falteringly asks
Begging in one-sentenced English
Taught by the teenage food vendor
Who watches her from across the road
And often needs to use the same plea
Sir, aney, please, sir?
An outstretched hand added to the voice
Dusty calloused bony little fingers
With mud-caked blood-caked nails
Attached to an even bonier dark arm
Belonging to an emaciated child’s body
With a face hollow, dirty and still so young
Sir, one rupee, sir?
The puffy reddish-white face turns to her
From high up above and so far away
She starts her litany in Sinhala words
Rapidly a life story unfolds, incomprehensible
Of a fate so tragic that it’s never believed
Sir, my mother died from starvation
Evoking with truthfully tearful eyes
A haggard skinny woman in stinky rags
Who looked more than twice her age
Who loved her unwanted daughter
But couldn’t provide for her at all
Sir, my father died from an accident
Telling of a weary poor old toddy tapper
Who fell from the palm tree one day
Who didn’t love his unwanted daughter
Beating his useless wife every night
Because the money was never enough
Sir, my brother was sent to prison
Remembering with longing and terror
The elder boy giving the finishing stroke
Who started stealing to fill her stomach
Who never considered her unwanted
Yet ruined both of their young lives
Sir, I’m all alone, hungry, thirsty, sick
Concluding the tragedy depicting her life
Looking up with big black blank eyes
Stretching her small hand a little further
Silently admiring the mysterious tourist
Her life depending on his doubtful mercy
Aney, please…
The little girl is out of words to plead
And the foreigner out of time to spare
Impatiently he waves her plight aside
Another fly to swat away carelessly
Another nuisance to spoil his holiday
Sir!
But he’s already half out of sight now
Cursing the government hypocritically
For not eliminating the beggar problem
Off to his splendidly cool 5-star Hotel room
Ignoring his guilty conscience stubbornly
No more desperate words from the girl
Defeat doesn’t come easily though known
Maybe she will be luckier next time…
SRI LANKA
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Silk sarees, wrinkled sarongs, and crisp school uniforms
Raucous laughter, betel chewing, home-brewed toddy
Indian movies, Korean daily soaps, and immortal singers
Luscious paddy fields, sturdy buffaloes, stately elephants
And let’s not forget the elusive Sri Lankan leopard’s lure
Neatly swept temple grounds, ramshackle railway-side huts
Kicking off cricket matches in sweltering heat, pouring rain
And munching devilishly spicy snacks while discussing politics
Sizzling seafood, crimson chili, more bananas than imaginable
Rivers snaking through mountains, waterfalls like hidden gems
Island-wide celebrations where neighbours offer oily sweets
Lightning strikes, power outages, nevertheless toothy smiles
And always a readiness to share what little one may have
Natural splendour, heritage sites, ruins with stories to tell
Kings never forgotten, horns never silent in traffic from hell
Afternoons full of afterthoughts, washed down with black tea
RAIN SONG
A distant din, drawing defiantly nearer
Like a wetly whispered warning roar
Then the discordant, disrupting drumming of drops
Hammering on tin roofs and hard-baked earth
The deluge destroys the calm, uncaring, indiscriminating
Clamouring, crashing through, courting calamity
Heaven has unleashed a many-headed beast
A monster’s saliva greedily dripping down, down
A hundred hungry tongues, licking, lapping, lashing
The beast’s hoofs beat the ground, stir up trouble and mud
Its breath a whooshing wind, whipping trees into new shapes
Palm fronds bending to its will, glistening green
As the ravenous rain hurtles down at a rakish angle
To twist here, to toss there, to splatter everywhere
Cacophony of monsoon, chaos, cursed blessing
