by Na Kumaran; originally published October 7, 2003
“What remains?
Only the remembrance
Of a vanished history
And those portraits of your grandparents.” – Jean Arasanayagam
It is impossible to capture and contain my recent journey to Sri Lanka within one particular article or essay. Added to this, is the difficult task of deconstructing the various images, emotions and situations that one typically experiences, whether willingly or otherwise, on such a return. For the time being, however, here is a series of moments that are personal signposts to larger narratives. By way of disclaimer, this is not poetry by any stretch of the imagination.
after perfunctory prayers to pillayar
hugging amma goodbye and not looking behind
keep your mouth shut and eyes open
her motherly wisdom insistent in my ear
plane hopping from toronto to zurich to frankfurt to colombo
ayubowan and welcome to sri lanka
is this home
tired dragging myself onto a bed in wellawatte
time to leave
waiting endless hours for a red crossed jeep at omanthai
the sun rising ms subbulakshmi reassuring the waiting crowd
kowsalya supraja rama poorva sandhya pravarthathe
a child crying small boys selling smaller apples
and a woman squatting to piss on grassy british pride
a stone faced soldier taking it all in tapping at his weapon
the border opening and a convoy of vehicles bumping along dusty roads
returning the stares of curious soldiers
crossing no human land
vanakkam and welcome to tamil eelam
is this home
arriving in kilinochchi rs 1000 poorer
familiar but short lived faces accents and jokes again
alone settling into routines
teabun combo served with sarcasm on the house at cheran
air conditioned english in vannitech
teaching marking learning and joking
rice and curry at amudhasurabi and daily cycling around town
talking sharing discovering and snapping reality
teaching computers and learning guilt under sheds in chc
drowning rotis in fanta at ilamthendral
after dinner walks under a starry sky to a stifling room
mosquitoes frogs and boring insects for room mates
and a cobra threatening its return
unable to sleep in the heat
tossing turning and praying for dawn break
joking and learning marking teaching
routines interrupted
a mobile clinic in a bombed out theatre
sight seeing gurukulam
a wiggling jothika on a projector under another shed
a defied unmarked trip into the jungle
and finding only humans there
learning teaching and joking rewarded by
the recoil of an ak 47 on a firing range
hauling myself aboard a dora near the sea
back in town familiar faces accents and jokes
late night pineapple parties
visitors passing through from norway france australia germany america
and
london
under the scorching sun imagining myself in love
time to leave
a flurry of exchanging addresses signing autographs and snapping
photographs
dont forget us you will forget us you will forget us
the students tell me matter of factly
you will forget us you will forget us dont forget us
no no i protest guiltily getting into a peeling morris minor
passing destroyed houses lives and a chemical factory enroute to
muhamalai
why dont u join us the younger tiger cadre asks of me at his side
why you come to lanka the older army constable asks of me at his side
i am on vacation i mumble to both hurriedly zipping my bags
driving through palmyrah dotted landscapes
stopping a while at chemmani a lingering stench in the air
welcome to yarlpanam
is this home
armed soldiers at every corner staring my welcome
am i intruding
turning into kokuvil kokuvil east i remind myself
is this home
seems smaller in 21 year old eyes
falling into aunts hug shaking uncles hand and joking with cousins
catching up with sixteen years in two weeks
gossip rumors myths and legends
eating jackfruit climbing trees and drinking kool in leaves
catching up with sixteen years in two weeks
old tales of intrigue and scandal
on my grandfathers easy chair under the mango tree
the moon peeking through the leaves
cursory prayers at maththanai tellipalai vallipuram nellandai and
selvasanithy
staring in wonderment at karthikai deepam in nallur
on a ferry to nagadeepaya nagabooshani amman and afterwards
the faint melody of chinna chinna aasai
chiming through navy barracks
the buddha in his vihara smiling serenely at complexities
retracing private and public histories
in town nallur kokuvil kondavil uduvil kantharodai and thumpalai
time to leave
at dawn break scooping a fistful of sand from my grandfathers land
hugging goodbyes and promising to keep in touch
landing in colombo and thrown into it
barristos coffees odel ice creams crescat clothes majestic movies and
hilton
dinners
a wedding here a birthday party there and visiting relatives
on a vijitha yapa shelf discovering muller under his jam fruit tree
swatting at mosquitoes listening to southern narratives
and amidst this heat frost on my arm
blasting eminem on galle face a pimp in a bandana throwing looks
tamil boys cracking jokes in sinhala over drinks
kathiresan in his kovil smiling serenely at complexities
escaping to kandy the wind on my face as i ride the railways
praying at dalada maligawa disturbed by tourists and
memories of the blast hanging on its walls
drinking in the beauty of the plains on the way
back to colombo but
time to leave
again
hugging phoning lunching and dining goodbyes
hopping planes from colombo to zurich to toronto
bonjour and welcome to canada
is this home
hugging amma hello and looking behind
from Tamil Circle, October 7, 2003, #3228