Raji Welgama is known best, at least among those interested in Sinhala
music, for the lyrics voiced by Sunil Edirisinghe: me tharam siyumelida
kalugal… (can rock be so smooth…). Some years after the song became
popular, I asked Raji what it was all about. His response astounded me:
‘matavath hithaganna baha.’ He himself could not explain.
This
is not impossible nor improbable. Things get read and re-read,
interpreted and re-interpreted. It makes for a lot of noise. And after a
while whether or not there’s noise, we simply do not or even cannot
hear. Perhaps that’s what happened.
In a way, Raji’s response sits well with the song itself. Let me try to translate:
I went looking for the man
who gave eyes to the Aukana Buddha.
(Somewhere) close to the Kala Wewa
upon a mat he lay
in the verandah of an iluk-thatched mud hut
caressing aches and gazing
upon waves that birthed and perished.
When I inquired about the lover
who in Isurumuniya he carved
he laughed (and said) ‘still single am I.’
I
have heard tell that from the eye-level of the Aukana Buddha statute
one could see the waters of the Kala Wewa, located some 10 kilometers
away. The hand gesture, I am told, is a variation of the Abhaya Mudra,
denoting reassurance, blessing and protection. In the context of the
song, a calming of turbulent waters or waves, one might say. From that
height anyone, the sculptor especially, could see and therefore reflect
upon, if so inclined, the ebb and flow of the liquid work of engineering
art that is the Kala Wewa. It is not hard to understand the metaphoric
yield and it being applied to the ata lo dahama, the eight
worldly conditions (profit-loss, fame-disgrace, praise-blame,
joy-sorrow). The sculptor imagined by the lyricist, it could be argued,
was but caressing (note: not gripping hard nor being dismissive, and
therefore adhering to the 'middle path') the ‘aches’ of the eternal
verities; reflecting upon or treating with equanimity, in fact.
Raji
could not fathom the smoothness. He couldn’t understand how such
perfection could be hewed from rock with, one assumes, just hand and
chisel. He went looking for the artist. The artist didn’t have an
answer.
There’s a legend about the Aukana that I have referred
to more than once. King Dhatusena while traveling with his Royal
Sculptor is said to have chanced upon the particularly striking rock
formation at Aukana. He is said to have asked the sculptor whether he
had seen the Buddha. The sculptor had said that yes, indeed, he had seen
the Buddha. In other words he could visualise the image that could be
wrought from rock simply by carving out that which was ‘not Buddha.’
Perhaps
Raji implied that the exercise crafted the craftsman even as the
sculptor sculpted. We don’t know whether or not he was well versed in
the doctrine or if in the process of ‘giving eyes to the Buddha’ he
obtained insights that had eluded him before.
Not all things can
be explained. This much is evident in the song and of course in Raji’s
one-line, half-amused and half-serious, response to my question.
Not all things are clear. For example, I do not know if the person who sculpted the Isurumuniya Lovers was the very same gal vaduva who
‘saw the Buddha at Aukana’ and decided to make the Enlightened One
visible to one and all. And we know that sometimes those who celebrate
love are not blessed (or burdened?) to love and be loved. Raji’s
sculptor doesn’t seem to be too concerned. He could laugh at the fact
that he was still single.
Who gave eyes to the Aukana Buddha?
Where does he live now? What thoughts crossed his mind or has he
succeeded in carving out all such clutter from heart, mind and being?
Having listened to the song many times, such questions invariably come
to mind whenever I visit Aukana or Kala Wewa. They come to mind even in
‘Kala Wewas’ that are not named ‘Kala Wewa,’ for any water body can be
imagined as THE Kala Wewa. They come to mind now and then when I
encounter any Buddha statue or any statue for that matter. And even
when I visit Isurumuniya, as I did last week.
This time I didn’t
look at the rock sculptures. I just took the path on the side of the
temple premises and went up the steps that led to the Tisa Wewa bund.
Yes, for that moment, it was to me the Kala Wewa. As I approached I
noticed a man seated at the top most step. Beside him was a bicycle. He
was selling small bags of sliced mangoes and sliced guavas. He was
waiting for customers. He probably had a salt, pepper or chilli powder
mix he could sprinkle on the fruit if so requested.
It was a
Monday. A slow day for him. So he said. There were years written on his
face. There was a smile that spoke to me of aches caressed. There were
eyes that seemed to carry the weight and lightness that often gets
written when contemplating the movement of water.
And I remembered Raji Welgama all over again. I cannot fathom even now how anyone could write lyrics so smooth.
[This article was published in the Daily News under the weekly column title 'The Recurrent Thursday']
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