The Indelible | Sunday Observer

The Indelible

23 February, 2020

Making a sincere attempt to bring an unimagined and unexplored treasure trove of modern Sinhala literature to the English reading community, Montage is bringing Mahinda Prasad Masimbula’s award winning novel ‘Senkottan’ translated by

Malinda Seneviratne, veteran journalist, writer and poet.

‘Senkottan’ (The Indelible), a remarkable creation of literature by Mahinda Prasad Masimbula was his debut effort in his literary career for which he won the State Literary Award in 2013 and short-listed in Swarna Pusthaka Literary Awards and many other Literary Award Festivals in the same year. The book has been published by Santhawa Publishers and ‘Senkottan’ has blazed the trail in the self-publishing industry as one of the best-selling books in Sinhala literature.

– CHAPTER 2, PART 1 

The rare and unusual pre-dusk glow that evening, raassige awwa,was strange and sorrowful for both Weerappuli Henaya and Baba Henaya. Weerappuli Henaya thought to himself that he had never before experienced such an evening. He sat on the rock by the stream that flowed below the house on which he would scrub soiled clothes, his sorrow dissolved in the fading light. His body seemed possessed by a strangeness that was akin to feverishness. The mind too was filled with a great emptiness. The stream made its way sadly, as though all stories were known.

For how long had he washed, what volume of clothes upon this rock, as had his parents and their parents as well? Having washed them all, had they not handed them with both hands as though they were some sacred offering? His ancestors, just like he, had not done this work as a vocation, a task determined by regent or state, but as the work of and for the gods. He felt that these very people had stood against him that day.

The faraway mountaintop of Panvila was painted by the red leaf behind by the setting sun. He thought that it was like the sorrow that had taken residence within him. There was a tremendous need to do something meritorious with absolutely devout fervor. How much he longed to offer a portion of what he had himself earned for this very purpose?

He remembered the day the newly arrived elder hamuduruwo of the temple had conveyed to him through Sanchiyathat there was no slot in the calendar to receive alms from Weerappuli Henaya’s household. That evening was like just like this, he felt. Reflecting on all this, he realized that the anger of his son, Lewis Henaya, was absolutely justified. He wanted to see his son who had grown up in and with the jungle, among the trees, the vines and the leaves. He now lived in the deep jungles in Rakwana, working in the mines. He would visit once a month. Weerappuli Henaya decided that when his eldest son next visits he would have a chat with him.

An idea came to him which he felt could help lessen his sorrow. He decided to have a word with the thithtakadayin who incessantly picked and fed on his feet dangling in the water. They had an intimate relationship with Weerappuli Henaya. He would on occasion toss to these fish living by the peththare the dankuda he scraped off the bottom of the rice pot and scraped coconut after the milk had been completely squeezed out. In any case, they could always feed on the dirt washed away from the clothes that got caught among the rocks.

Weerappuli Henaya’s feet which they encountered day and night just there were familiar and comforting. The crack of clothes brought down upon the rock was music to their ears. When he wrung out the washed clothes, they rushed to him. On certain days at such times Weerappuli Henaya would speak to them.

Thikkadayin, listen! You pick on my feet in search of something to eat. If instead of me, there was sitting here an emperor, a Sakviti King,his feet too would you peck and feed on in this very same manner. You would not distinguish or treat with any difference if it was someone from the govigama caste or from karawa,wahumpura, badahela, bathgama, gahala, rodee.

You would feed in this very manner. You are of a superior breed to humans. I was deeply hurt today. The only person I know with whom I can share such things is the good human being Guna Ralahami.

He would listen and say something, weaving into his story various matters gathered from near and far like an immensely wise man. He is truly a very knowledgeable person. A person, a godly man, who deserves to be greeted and worshipped with utmost veneration.’

He once again looked at the fish and smiled.

‘So, you must understand how happy I am. There are creatures like you in this world. So, feed, feed on….to your utmost satisfaction. I will remain here, in this way, a little longer…’

It was quite dark when he returned home, having spent a further hour, just like that, with his feet in the water. His feet felt extremely cold. He went straight to the wellaava where his wife, Malma Ridee, was stacking clothes while feeding the fire. He sat on a rock facing the mouth of the wellaawa. He felt the heat and pushed in further the pieces of jak wood. The sound of water boiling in the pot on the ˆwellaawa could be heard clearly now. The next moment he felt the fragrance of steamed clothes stacked on the rim of the wellaawa. Seated by his side, Malma Ridee, while removing the kernels of Indian tamarind she had gathered that morning, looked at her husband.

‘Isn’t it tomorrow that you are due to go to the walawwa of the Niyangam Appo?’

Weerappulil Henaya had not forgotten. The first Saturday of every month was when he had to go to Niyamgam Appo’s house. He continued to look at the steaming wellaawa and said nothing. The sight of the wellaawa where his wife had stacked the clothes rekindled in his mind the great sense of disillusionment. Although she was not as skilled as he was in such matters, she had helped him with the laundry from the day she had come away with him.

She would visit a household where a young girl had attained age once a week to conduct the bathing ritual. She scrubbed clothes all day long. She ironed late into the night. It was as though she herself had been washed and rinsed. She had never had reason to be joyful in her life but always sported a smile and lived simply. She had never done him any wrong. She worried over her children and at times rejoiced at their happiness and achievements. She had not sinned, not even with a single word. She was a woman who had brought only goodness with her into this world. All these thoughts came to him after the incident of that afternoon.

He remembered how she had quickly gathered the laundry after that wicked woman in the retail shop had kicked the bundle. He remembered again the look of helplessness on her face. That day, as they walked along the road that lay through the paddy fields near their house on the way back, she had wept, and mumbled something to herself. Weerappuli Henaya recalled had he uttered even a single word that day, his voice would have broken in sobs.

The crimson of the fire in the wellaawa brought to mind the utter loneliness that the raassi’s sunlight had birthed in his mind. He asked himself whether in fact his wife, two daughters and he were not living in these fires.

‘Here…I’ve served you the rice…’ Malamaa Ridee came to the hut bringing Weerappuli Henaya’s earthenware rice bowl and a cup of water. He usually had his dinner around seven o’clock. Malmaa Ridee, their two daughters, their son-in-law Nambu Henaya would eat much later.

And yet, as always, he inquired, ‘have the children eaten?’

‘They’ll eat when they get hungry, won’t they?’ Malmaa Ridee offered the response she had got used to giving for many, many years.

Her husband did not move. He washed his hands and began to eat. At this moment a firefly began to turn in one spot at the high end of the roof. Malmaa Ridee was driven to declare, ‘someone will come tomorrow to announce a kotahaluwa, a girl somewhere would have attained age….see the firefly turning and turning up there.’

Her husband did not look. From the experience of many years he knew that she was probably ninety percent accurate in her prediction. He consumed part of the food but idled thereafter. When he washed his hands leaving the bowl of food half-eaten, Malmaa Ridee understood what the matter was. He had told her all about his shattered peace of mind the moment he had arrived.

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