On most days there are people sitting around the town of Ragama, in close
proximity to the hospital and especially under the flyover. Many of them would be clutching a ‘sirisisiri’
bag. This was told to me by my Isy Mama
(who I ought to call Isy Baappa or Isy Kudappachchi for he’s married to my
Manique Nanda, who I ought to call Manique Punchi Amma or Manique Kudamma but
for a childhood error that was never corrected).
 |
| One of the most wasteful products ever, a polythene bag is typically used for 12 minutes but lasts for 500 years but this is not a story about waste or a celebration of waste. |
Isy Mama and Manique Nanda are retired in relative comfort
but are hardly retired in the things that count, the cultivation of the mind
and the pursuit of truth. Isy Mama said
that they often distribute lunch packets to people such as those described
above. This is what he had to say: ‘On
inquiring as to what they would be doing there seated under the flyover, the
answer we got from many of them was that they had been discharged from the
hospital the other day, had no money to return home, had no means to sustain
themselves and had no way of contacting a near/dear to inform them that they
had been discharged.’
There’s no one to blame.
When a patient recovers, hospitals are required to discharge him/her for
they are not homeless shelters or charities that take care of the
destitute. The near and dear cannot be
faulted for not arriving a discharge-time for some of the patients come from
faraway places and belong to families that cannot afford to either visit on a
daily basis or arrange for someone to be near the near and dear all the time.
The patient cannot be blamed either, naturally. One can’t blame Government or
State either, not when considering the kinds of subsidies that every citizen
benefits from, all the way from womb to grave.
It’s not a faulting matter.
Isy Mama said that they had once come across an old
gentleman under the flyover who had said that his son had promised to come for
him a week before. It didn’t seem as though anyone would ever come, Isy Mama
said.
‘In the hurly burly and hustle and bustle of life and
business as usual, under the bridge, one could see that not many were
aware, let alone concerned at the fate of these parents abandoned by their
offspring.’
Who knows why no one came?
That son may be cruel, insensitive, ungrateful, and be possessed of
other such negative qualities. He may
have met with an accident. He may have
also felt it was beyond his strength to help his father. He may be a callous,
self-absorbed and selfish creature too.
Who can tell? And who are we to
pass judgment, especially since we’ve not walked in the shoes or in the shirt
of the man we are quick to find fault with?
We can do something other than asking such questions which
will remain unanswered. Isy Mama
suggests that it is good on occasion to walk around. There is enough sorrow in this world. There are a million can-do things that we do
not do because we feel there is no time or that other things are more
important. Maybe other things are important, but reflection doesn’t always
hurt. We are here now but tomorrow we
will be gone: Pana nam thana
aga pini bindu wanne (Life is like a dew drop on a blade of grass – ‘Loweda
Sangarawa’).
We live as though we are immortal and I am not saying this
is necessarily a bad thing. On the other hand, we do spend quite a lot of time
feeling inadequate. We cultivate jealousies, try to out-do the next person and
so on. We seldom stop to appreciate the
fact that we are incredibly privileged.
It is not wrong or bad to try and better oneself, but a little bit of
perspective would not hurt, I believe.
That Ragama flyover is all over the world. So too those people who are dependent on the
generosity of the world’s Isy Mamas and Manique Nandas. There’s abandonment all around us. It is
sometimes naked but sometimes clothed.
We often don’t have the eyes or patience to notice the nudity or
penetrate garment and disguise.
There are people with sirisiri bags or silisili
malu containing all of their worldly possessions but we don’t see them
because our eyes are full of the mansions we plan to build tomorrow. We can stop and ask a question. We can stop
to give. We can walk away. No one will
blame us. That verse from the Loweda
Sangarawa has this line too: kumatada kusalata kammeli wanne? (why be
slothful in the matter of doing good?).
Yes, good and bad are relative, but still, why pause and be numbed that
the relevant philosophical point when it costs nothing to pause at sorrow and
gift a smile?
There is a silimalla blowing around. It seems the lightest thing on earth. I can’t help feeling that some old person
once resided in it and somehow fell out of it in mid-flight. I am not sure now if it was an old man such
as the one Isy Mama described or if it was me.
I am sure of one thing though. I am unpardonably
slothful.
This article was first published in the 'Daily News' in February 2010. Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer who can be
reached at malindasenevi@gmail.com
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