When did I first hear about annaasi (pineapple)? When
did I first see a kadalagotta (a
paper cone filled with kadala)?
The answer to both questions would take me to the 1970s. That’s a childhood thing for most Sri
Lankans. The two words are not spoken of
in the same breath. Were not, to be
precise. Now they are, thanks to Capt
Elmo Jayawardena, author and winner of the Gratiaen Prize 2001 for his novel
‘Sam’s Story’ (now a film).
Elmo knows to mix things the right way. Elmo knows flavors that are so ancient that
they are also brand new or can be reinvented.
Elmo also knows to hide.
The first time I heard of Annasi and Kadalagotu (together)
was when I received an email (widely and randomly circulated) about a poetry
reading event at Hansa Café. I
associated the event first with Imaad Majeed and later with my friend
Krishantha Sri Bhaggiyadatta. I’ve
attended this monthly meetings where poets share their work with each other on
a few occasions and have been impressed by the casualness and freedom. People come, read and go. There are comments, there are jokes and
there’s coffee. That would be a
description of Elmo and his ways, come to think of it.
A&K as it is now called is more than a monthly gathering
of poets, I know now. It is a
small-press publishing house based in Colombo, focusing on contemporary Sri
Lankan poetry. They have put out
several volumes of poetry so far thereby introducing to the English reading
public several new voices.
And now we have the A&K Literary Festival. Nothing grand about it, but it’s everything
that one associates with poetry and poets.
A small community, passionate and kind, that celebrates togetherness and
difference without making a song and dance about it. That’s also Elmo, by the way.
They have put in a lot of hard work, this much is
clear. If you just check the featured
poets and critics, they are all well-known in literary circles and not just in
Colombo. Check the schedule and there’s
bound to be many events you would be interested in attending. Forget all that. Just being around so many people who
obviously love literature is an experience in itself. That’s what I would go for, really.
Elmo says it is his swan song and being alert to the fact
that he’s speaking to a journalist hastens to add, ‘don’t write that!’ How can a writer ever be ‘done’ with his or
her work? Elmo, in energy and smile,
turn of phrase and twinkle in eye, is as young as the many young people he is
working with on the A&K thing, whatever it is and whatever it will turn out
to be. I have only a cursory and passing
knowledge of these individuals but if first impressions count, they are all
amazing young people, as soft as they come but as passionate as one expects the
most passionate people of that generation to be.
It’s a story in itself, I feel. Perhaps in time to come someone will say
‘that was just the intro’ into what became the thimbirigeya of many outstanding writers in the English
language. Perhaps it would be a
different kind of birthing-place, one where writers in Sinhala, Tamil and
English learn of commonality and the enriching that such gatherings
nurture. Let time sort this out. Right now, let’s just be happy that Elmo is
the man he is. He’s given us something
juicy and something to munch on. That’s
heavenly in an otherwise mostly barren literary landscape.
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