The Indelible | Sunday Observer

The Indelible

29 March, 2020

Making a sincere attempt to bring an unimagined and unexplored treasure trove of modern Sinhala literature to the English reading community, Montage brings 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 5

It happened the first time she had to visit a house where a girl had attained age to perform the puberty rituals. It was during the time when Malaria had swept across the Godakawela-Rideevita area. Malma Ridee had such a high fever that it was suspected that she too had been afflicted. She had given up hope but felt that cancelling what she had committed herself to would be a terrible scar on her people.  

So she, Podina, had to undertake the journey. Although she had attended countless such ceremonies with her mother, on this occasion she was given lengthy instructions. It was to take place at a household at the other end of a village called Werahera, a fair distance off Godakawela. The elders in that family had informed them that there would be someone to offer betel near the Mister Wine’s tailoring shop in Godakawela around three o’clock on the day before the ceremony was scheduled to take place.  

A bus carrying people from Ratnapura to Embilipitiya passed her, but Podina had decided she will walk all the way from Rideevita to Godakawela. This was because she feared that she would not get off at the correct stop. It took her about two hours to get to Mister Wine’s tailoring shop. He had already arrived. It was this face that she always saw in the face of her little boy.  

He was standing there and at his side was a brand new splendid Albatross bicycle. In Podina’s eyes this young man, dressed in a sarong and shirt with hair neatly combed was a prince. At the very same time a strong feeling about this fair young lass had arisen in the heart of this prince. Podina remembered her father mention reading about such a bicycle in a newspaper at Guna Ralahamy’s house. According to him it would cost around ninety rupees. The thought of roaming the hills and valleys on this bicycle with this strong and handsome prince crossed her mind and as swiftly disappeared. The young man had anticipated an old dhobi woman, but right now, before him, was a woman as beautiful as a swan. 

‘You are from the kotahalu house, aren’t you unnehe?’ she asked and he responded in the affirmative with a slight nod of his head. 

‘I had to come. My mother has Malaria. We can’t break a promise, so she asked me to go.’ 

‘Alright. Then let’s leave now. We have a fair distance to go.’ 

They left and walked in silence for a while. Then he said ‘Why walk when there’s this bicycle?’ 

‘Oh no! No! I can’t do that. I can walk any distance. I came all the way from Rideevita on foot, after all. You go on the bicycle, unnehe. I’ll walk. These things make me queasy. A lorry carrying a load of people passed me near the Elpitiya junction. I didn’t try to thumb a ride. Unnehe, you go on the bicycle, I’ll walk. Also, there’ll be such a scandal if someone saw. They’ll create all kinds of vile stories about you taking a dhobi woman on your bicycle.’ 

Her objections were actually half-hearted. The young man was surprised at the way she thought about things. Whatever caste she belonged to, he couldn’t think of a prettier girl in his village nor his entire clan. This made him swell up with pride but even stronger was the hope that had taken root in his mind. 

He felt sorry upon seeing the dust on her feet. He wanted to get her on the bicycle somehow. 

‘No, no….just come. It will take us until tomorrow to get there if we went on foot. There’s nothing to fear. All you have to do is to hold on tightly to the handlebar.’ 

Her mind urged her to accept the offer but her body objected.  

‘Please, unnehe, people use this road often I am sure….you can go as fast as you want, I’ll run behind….I can’t do this.’ 

A quarter mile further found her on the bicycle. They had got close enough to joke and laugh together. He was a fine sense of the aesthetic and sang some verses quite beautifully. It was a lonely road, flanked by paddy fields and shrub jungle. He moved his face close to hers and was able to get a glimpse of her full bosom. The bicycle cut through the wind and moved forward. As they were going through a lush valley, he started singing again. 

Like a golden vessel in the middle of the dancing sea 

the prince upon the horse rides with gaeity mild 

the irrepressible pair through flimsy cloth catch the eye 

their softness the breezes of dawn must know 

She was moved. By way of expressing thanks for the verse she let the young man lean against her body. She experienced the wonderment of how the body of the young man behind her changed even as her mind shed its confusions. At one point he kissed her cheek. She knew nothing of what the future held. She was happy absolutely upon discovering the lover she had always looked for. All things had been arranged to deliver to them the new world they desired. The sight of preening peacocks in that valley absolutely devoid of human habitation brought them closer. She wanted to ask him about the verse. 

‘Unnehe, tell me how you learned to compose such lovely verses?’ 

‘I was inspired by you, sister.’ 

‘When you saw me….or….?’ 

‘Yes, yes…I saw this and that and the verse just eased from within.’ 

He was calling her ‘nagaa’ already. She pinched his hand while holding tight the handlebar. He pressed his thumb upon her hand as though he would not release it ever. He pressed harder until there was absolutely no doubt that it caused her pain. She did not try to pull back her hand.  

They both laughed. He didn’t tell her that the verse had been composed by the poet Alwis Perera. When he kissed her face again, she moved it slightly to give him better access. It was an invitation which prompted a proposal. 

‘Nagaa…a little bit further, there’s a beautiful rock. At this time of the day lots of peacocks come there to make love. The rocky outcrop stretches endlessly. There is absolutely no one there. We have this bicycle and so we won’t get late. I would like to take you there for a little while.’ 

‘Unnehe…’! It was a half-hearted objection as was customary for a woman, but she also asked, ‘what if someone came?’ It was her way of accepting the invitation, he knew and was pleased. 

‘No…no…no one will come, I am sure of it.’

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