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']
