The abandoning of Colombo

 

I live between Piliyandala and Kottawa. Since my daughters attended a Colombo school and since I worked in Colombo in the rare occasions I had a regular job, traffic has been something I have had to contend with. Weekdays are messy but at least they are predictable.

In my case, it would be a 40 minute drive if we left home before 6 am, 45-50 if we left after 6 but before 6.15, and anything from an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes if we left after 6.15. There is generally an easing after 7.30, but things get bad after 8 o’clock. These are general rules of thumb, for me at least. And there are similar ‘rules’ between 1 pm and 2.30 and after 4.30 pm.

Sometimes I hit a sweet-spot in the clock and cruise, more or less, and sometimes I crawl. As they say in the United States of America, sometimes you are the bug and sometimes you are the wind-shield.

Our lives are governed by clocks. We can’t ignore the school bell. We can’t ignore the attendance redline or its equivalent in an office. However, when the tyranny of the clock relaxes its grip, we can move relatively easier. When schools were on vacation or when unemployed, if I have to get from A to B at a time I could choose, then I would pick a relatively congestion-free time to set out. Or return.

April is the best month for me, speaking strictly on the subject of traffic. I know that the school calendar was wrecked by the Easter Sunday attacks followed by Covid and the economic crisis, but the relevant authorities have always managed to ink in a holiday of at least a week around the Aluth Avurudda.

It’s not just the school vacation. It’s the Aluth Avurudda, which is not the preserve of school children, schools and educational authorities. There are the official Avurudu holidays and people shore up leave to stretch it for a few days, from before to after.

Colombo looks deserted during this period, weekdays and weekends, whether or not offices are open. Except of course for the marathons and cycle races that are part and parcel of Avurudu Uthsava which have their own colour and also generate delight in their own way. The stoppages they may cause are indulged by and large. Anyway, they don’t cause congestion of the kind one could encounter at other times of the year.

If ever I am at home, after the consumption of the first meal for the Aluth Avurudda at the auspicious time determined by astrologers, I take kevili along with some kiribath to friends who I know have not gone home to ‘the village,’ for reasons beyond their control. Typically security personnel at institutions I visit frequently. It is a privilege to be able to do that, I know. Smiles. Good words. And the affirmation of the spirit of the Avurudda.

Driving from home to Ladies’ College, the Hector Kobbekaduwa Agrarian Research and Training Institute, or Phoenix-Ogilvy, all in Colombo 7 by the way, whether I come through Piliyandala or Kottawa, is a breeze. Stress-free. Lovely. I smile all the way there and back. And I take in Colombo in its vast emptiness and its incredible desertion.

Where have all the people gone, I’ve asked myself. Those who left, where did they go, I’ve asked. And the inevitable follow up questions: where did they come from, why did they come, why do they not stay?  

Avurudda shows up Colombo and Sri Lanka in ways that sociologists would probably find interesting. Colombo is where people work but it is not their home, even if they reside somewhere within the city that comes under the jurisdiction of the Colombo Municipal Council or even the suburbs. Or even Kottawa, for some at least. Home is where one grew up and where one goes if parents and sections of the extended family still live there. It’s the ‘gama’ or ‘village’ even if rurality associated with the term no longer exists. It’s the customs related to family and togetherness that makes a geographical entity a ‘gama.’ That’s why Colombo is abandoned.

And that’s why Colombo is not Sri Lanka, contrary to the belief staunchly held by many who consider anything outside Colombo nothing more and nothing less than quaint places one visits or passes through to some idyllic destination for an away-from-it-all vacation, and consequently is at least subconsciously thought to be less ‘Sri Lanka’ somehow.

Colombo is a pretty city, certainly. It looked prettier and greener in the immediate aftermath of the Covid-induced lockdowns. It is still prettier than usual at Avurudu time, at least for me, driving along largely empty roads that allow me to look around much more than I usually would. I notice architecture. I notice and sometimes take byroads. My vision is not interrupted by vehicles and people. My ears are not harassed by the inevitable cacophony of non Avurudu days.

Deserted Colombo is a sight to behold. For a while at least. Typically, I would take off to Kegalle, where my wife’s large extended family lives for delights quite different from those obtained from an abandoned city.  The Aluth Avurudda will arrive at 3.21 am on Monday the 14th of April. Thoughts of Colombo and its seasonal transformation will be furthest from the minds of almost everyone in our nation of 22 million plus people, the vast majority of whom will be lighting a fire and consuming kiribath at exactly the same moment in acts of solidarity that often go unnoticed.

May the Aluth Avurudda bring everyone joy and prosperity, whether or not they celebrate it!

[This article was published in the Daily News under the weekly column title 'The Recurrent Thursday']