A forgotten dawn song from Embilipitiya ~ Malinda Words

Pic by Tharindu Amunugama

I’ve read many Russian short stories that end with a short description of the landscapes in which the storied lives intersect. To me the authors are just taking the sentiments that torment the reader, elevating them to a plane soft enough for sober reflection.

‘The rain fell faster and the wind sang a sad and solemn dirge to the proud pair - Loyko Zobar and Radda, the daughter of old Daniel. And the two shadows whirled silently around each other in the darkness of the night, yet never was the singer, Look, able to overtake his proud, beloved Radda…’

That’s Maxim Gorky’s ‘Makar Chudra,’ a short story of a brief and tragic encounter. Of love expressed. Of being loved in return but sentiments expressed in the language of scorn and spurn. Of love unrecognised and therefore fuelling an insanity that could only be buried at knife point. Of an incomparable response; a smile that said what ought to have been heard and words that cut a heart to pieces.

There are sorrows that are not alleviated with words, these stories taught me. The dimensions are approximated through elemental description. The tenor of the wind blowing across the Steppes, the rain and its music, the dance of grass and such.

Consider this, though:

‘That township, enveloped in the disquiet of dust throughout the afternoon, by eventide found itself sneezing as it readied to settle down. The wind that swept across the Chandrika Wewa had become increasingly moist. A young moon resting now on one branch and now upon another of a Kumbuk tree on the far shores of the reservoir seemed to be searching for its more handsome form. Since darkness was close at hand, we set off to the place we were to spend the night. Night, spreading its long, dark wings, was preparing to take up residence in the town.’

A moment, a location, an environment. A feeling.

It could be any village or town close to or identified with a reservoir, large or small, irrigated or rain fed. Ratna Sri Wijesinghe, though, was describing a specific town and remembering a specific historical moment. The title of the essay (one of many written for the Silumina almost two decades ago and collected in a book titled ‘Aeth Pasura’): ‘Mee pup ladim - daru noladim.’ It’s a verse, a song and a story. The place: Embilipitiya.

The next line says it all: ran kaeti putha ko ko?

And Ratna Sri takes us to Sooriyakanda and the avanaduva associated with that name. And to Ajith Kalyana Amarasinghe’s note:

Even though truth

was unearthed one day

from hidden recesses

at the foot of tall mountains

did it like snow on cold mountaintops

congeal thereafter,

when will the sun

rise over Sooriyakanda

for a resolute heart

its work to complete

someday?

There are places that uplift the heart. There are moments that are memorable. There are places and histories that break the heart. A poet can and will describe the truth of a place. A poet can succumb and often submits to the call of the pathetic fallacy, projecting upon flower, stem, root, mountain and dew the tremblings of the poetic heart. A poet can and sometimes does call forth a sun to direct its rays to bring to light earthed histories.

And so Ratna Sri reminds us of a tragedy that was planned, executed and covered up. It was made possible by the monumentality of the larger tragedy of which ‘Sooriyakanda’ was but one albeit singular manifestation. He cuts the heart to pieces, but not in the way that Radda shredded Loyko Zobar’s life.

The sunrise at Sooriyakanda is something to behold. The earth protects grave and brutality through its diurnal revolution. The sun does point to histories hastily unearthed, misread, mis-articulated and re-abused. For a while. Embilipitiya is beautiful. Sooriyakanda is spectacular. Somewhere at the foot of a mountain, there’s earth and heart patiently awaiting resolve and integrity.

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is a new series. Links to previous articles in this new series are given below]

07 June 2023

A forgotten dawn song from Embilipitiya

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