It can be said that Panchamee Hewavissenti is a many faceted gem in society and is an ideal role model for peers and the younger generation to emulate.
Author, poetess, researcher, linguist, a trilingual sworn translator duly appointed by the Ministry of Justice, a culinary enthusiast, a yoga practitioner and an adventurous explorer, Panchamee is a model for the age old saying ‘Variety is the spice of life’.
Avath
Panchamee recently launched her first collection of short stories in Sinhala titled ‘Avath’. The name ‘Avath’ means taboos for bhikkhus. This name caught Panchamee’s eye as she was looking for an unusual, attention drawing title. It is also a name not known among many. So, she felt it was an ideal title for her collection of short stories.She also based one of her short stories on this subject. Also titled ‘Avath’ the story revolves around an illicit affair between a bhikkhu and a young girl. In the end, the bhikkhu elopes with the girl, a serious transgression of Buddhist discipline and thereby falling under the category of ‘Avath’.
‘Ulama’ (Devil Bird) is another story in this collection. Panchamee originally heard this story from her grandmother and it interested her very much. Subsequently, she researched the subject talking to many Sri Lankan rural folk and wove her story. In ‘Ulama’, an old woman who is a firm believer that the Ulama’s cry portends the death of someone in the neighbourhood hears the ‘Ulama’ cry in her own garden. This worried her greatly and she keeps worrying about who might die. Greatly concerned about her three children she visits them. Her constant worry makes her weak and ultimately she passes away. ‘Thisthune Wattuwa’ is another story dealing about a school girl who accidentally contracts Aids and dies from the dreaded disease. Ward Number Thirty Three is where Aids patients are treated.
The ‘Avath’ launch
Avath was launched at the Mahaweli Centre. Prominent personalities at the event included author Sumithra Rahubadda, K.K. Saman Kumara, Prof. Chandima Wijebandara and Sujith Akkarawatta.
Panchamee presented the first copy of ‘Avath’ to her mother, Karuna Hewavissenti and in her speech dedicated ‘Avath’ to all who were present and everyone who has helped her in her literary journey.
Her first book published in 2019 was a Sinhala translation of Dr. Seuss’s well loved tale, ‘How the Grinch stole Christmas’. Panchamee titled her book, ‘Napura Natthala horakam kala hati’.
Inspiration to write
For Panchamee, the inspiration to write came from her father, Arthur Linton Hewavissenti, a school principal. Holder of a degree in English Literature he wrote short stories and poems among other articles. When her father was writing, little Panchamee used to climb onto his desk and write side by side with him. Even though sadly her father passed away when she was eight years old, Panchamee continued in his footsteps. Her first published poem was when she was around 12 or 13 years of age and appeared in a Sinhala children’s magazine ‘Pragathi’. She also won a gift for her poem and this spurred her onto keep writing throughout her school career and after.
Panchamee had her schooling initially in Balangoda and subsequently at Dharmapala Vidyalaya, Pannipitiya and St. Paul’s Girls’ school , Milagiriya. As a principal, Panchamee’s father had to move around and so she had to attend different schools.
Studying in India
The family sent Panchamee to India for her A/Levels when she could not get through the tough examination in Sri Lanka. She attended the Lady Andal School in Chennai and passed her A/Ls. Here, Tamil was a subject on the syllabus. Panchamee became extremely interested in the Tamil Language and culture. She also felt it would help her to foster ethnic unity in Sri Lanka.
She entered the Madras Christian College in Chennai fondly known as MCC to read for a degree in Tamil Literature. MCC is an autonomous college.
At the same time she studied Hindi and passed the Hindi Visharad exam with a first class. She also learnt Urdu and can speak and write in the language.
She is fascinated by the different dialects in the Tamil language in Sri Lanka and India. She recalled that there was a student from Jaffna at the Madras Christian College but the Indian Tamil people found it difficult to comprehend his speech.
A trilingual journalist
Panchamee is a trilingual journalist and has contributed her creations to the ‘Sunday Observer Magazine’, ‘Sirikatha’, ‘Mithran’ and ‘Veerakesari’.
Currently, she is reading for a Phd in Food Traditions in Sri Lanka. She has travelled the island to gather material on the subject and has ventured beyond Sri Lanka’s shores too. She went to Nepal to research their food traditions and to see if there were linkages to Sri Lanka’s food culture. She discovered something akin to the Sri Lankan ‘kurakkan talapa’ called ‘dhindo’.
A Himalayan trek
With her zest for life and versatility Panchamee did not confine herself to food research alone. She studied Yoga under a master named Madhav Adhikari and is now able to reach the Kundalini state in yoga. She finds that yoga is very healthy for body, soul and mind and encourages others to take to yoga.
Being an adventurous spirit Panchamee could not resist the lure of the Himalayas and trekked to Mardi Himal at a height of 4,900 meters. Her personal guide on the hike was a Nepali girl, Shrishti Thamang. Panchamee found the sight of Mt. Everest thrilling.
During her visit to Nepal she found a dish called ‘yamari’, which is just like our ‘Imbul Kiribath’.
Panchamee has no particular time preference for writing and does so when the mood takes her during quiet times.
Pets
For relaxation she spends time with her beloved dogs, Diesel, a labrador and Dora, a dalmation. Diesel was given this name by Panchamee as she got him during the fuel crisis in the country.
Panchamee considers herself as a spiritual person rather than a religious person.
Working towards her Phd and her writing are Panchamee’s current goals in life and there is no doubt that she will soar to success in whatever she does.
Another favourite pastime is cooking the dishes she researches about and of course, reading and writing are all-time favourites.
Pix- Thushara Sanjeewa
****
Two poems by Panchamee
A moment at the gallows
Sudden rise of trepidation
Brimming with frustration
Utterly low expectations
To God, an unholy oblation
My agony none knows
Scoffs, though all throws
I long to live long
To live, still look along
God gave me life
Lived in midst of strife
Have you what right
O man, to take my light
Crime I committed
Never was acquitted
Life, it is what I long for
Sitting on that death row
Will I go to hell
As people tell
No fear of that, well
Only over this moment, I mull
Blindfolded, prevails only gloom
Fear and tremor , loom
Noose around neck
Hands tied at the back
Moments that last no long
These are, not so long
Adios, to the song of life I sang
Alas, I died before you hang
****
Ode to a Cemetery Caretaker
Your life, less rosy, O caretaker of the cemetery!
With ghosts scary and phantoms moving
In the dark, haunted cemetery at a
Spooky and creepy corner of the village
Eyes wide opened, you cannot lull them to sleep
You being the custodian of the perished
Your duty, you must execute
Being the guardian of the dead
You grieve, you cannot guard your wife and children
At fearsome nights which keep them awake with trepidation
You fail in your duty as a protective father and a husband
Because your duty is to guard the dead
Wind rustles, suddenly causing your palpitation to rise
An owl in a branch of a dried tree, disturbs the quietness of thicket
A choir of jackals pierces your ear drums
Buzzing sound of mosquitos lingering around your ears
Aggravates your irritation
They are swifter than your slap on your own cheeks
With pain, you mutter in annoyance
Not a trace of a living human, but thousands of deceased
What are you guarding at this dead night sacrificing your sleep?
Bodies of the dead, oozing pus and emanating reek
Skeletons of them, who died centuries ago
O caretaker of cemetery, do you remember when
You last caressed your wife and slept tight at night
And your children fell asleep on your arms in your bed
Do you remember the taste of your wife’s lips
And the smoothness of her cheeks
And the warmth of her breath
How stern is your heart, if you do not yearn for such pleasures
Yet, you subdue all of them to fulfill your duty
Your life you sacrifice for the dead