Books

 

Travelling through legend, documentary and anthropology
Tales Of A Devoted Traveller "Kelani Ganga Flows with History - Legend and Sandesha - message poems"- by Gamini de S. G. Punchihewa. Reviewed by Tissa Devendra. Price Rs. 250
I have long been an interested reader of the many newspaper articles and books of Gamini Punchihewa, an indefatigable traveller along the little-known by-ways and river banks of our homeland that he loves so much. Five years ago, he honoured our greatest river Mahaveli Ganga with his "History and Legend of the Great Sandy River". In his latest book he has turned his sights nearer Colombo, the capital city 'willed' to us by our Colonial master but never consecrated by a Sinhala King.

The writer, most appropriately, begins with Kelaniya itself, not the rather shabby suburban township of today but with the Kalaniya of yore. In the words of the Sandesha poems he quotes this was a city that
"mirrors our ancient heritage in its splendour"
embowered in
"flowers of Sal, Sapu, Kapuru, Domba, while forest canopies.. provide copious shade" and, as always in such poems -
"Belles with tresses.. dressed with flowers of Kadupul cascading down their bosoms bathe frolicking in the rippling waters of the river."

He wanders away from these delectable maidens to describe the myths, traditions and history of this sacred place once hallowed by the presence of the living Buddha and centuries later, desecrated by a cruel king whose sacrilege caused a tsunami to ravage his kingdom. Nearer our time he writes of the Bridge of Boats and the construction of Victoria Bridge. In one small chapter he thus captures the spirit of Kelaniya from the mists of legend and the poems of medieval times to the steel and concrete of today.

Hardly anybody seems to be aware that Buddhist hermitages dating from the 2nd century B.C. are found in the Kelani Valley, a mere 15 miles from bustling Colombo. The author has explored two of these: Samanabedda Raja Maha Viharaya in Hanwella and Koratota Len Viharaya in Kaduwela. He describes the fading rock inscriptions in archaic Sinhala by which princes and nobles dedicated cave hermitages to the forest-dwelling monks in the early days of Buddhism in Sri Lanka. He goes on to describe unusual archaeological remains from this ancient period quoting extensively from scholars such as Parker and Paranavitana. Characteristically he goes on to describe the ever-renewing grove of 'Maylia' trees in the Samanabedda Vihara and the rituals of the Pattini Devale not far from here.

He leaves temples for battlefields of yore when he describes the bloody encounters that took place here at Hanwella which was a strategic entry to the Sinhala kingdom in the tragic period when Portuguese, Dutch and British fought the armies of Sinhale. The blood-sodden battlegrounds have become bazaars, and of the fortresses built by our conquerors all that remains, fittingly, is a heap of rubble and a shallow drain in the rest house garden.
In the next two chapters the writer, using Nawagamuva Pattini Devale as the centre point of his story, launches into a detailed description of the Pattini cult. This exotic goddess has clearly held him in thrall and he spends 30 pages (almost 1/3 of the book!) on this deity who seems to have no particular 'kinship' with the Kelani Ganga. But, on its own, this account twining Hindu legend, Sinhala documents and Prof. Gananath Obeysekera's anthropological studies is of interest.

The writer's best travel writing is in his account of the fascinating rock temple of Pilikuttuwa, not far from Yakkala on the Kandy road. Here he finds remains of prehistoric habitation predating early Buddhist ruins by hundreds of thousands of years. Obviously our ancestors found the lush jungles of south west Sri Lanka a happy hunting ground. The vihara has survived the depredations of the Portuguese and contains intriguing and amusingly anachronistic murals from Victorian times. The wonderful vistas of hamlets, green fields and distant Colombo from the hilltop are something the author will always remember, as did the bhikkus of yore when they chose this spot for meditation.

I find this latest work of Gamini Punchihewa an interesting guidebook to lesser known places in the valley of the Kelani.


A beautiful garland of true humanity
Flowers of Passion - Prose Poems by Rohini Gooneratne Cooray. Reviewed by
Carl Muller

Meet Rohini Nedra Gooneratne Cooray - born in her home in 43rd Lane, Wellawatte; daughter of proprietary planter W. Don Robert Gooneratne and Irene H.P. Samarasekera. There, that's personal enough!

Now meet Rohini - member of the Pittsburg Poetry Society, USA, that had, as its parent, The Poetry Society Inc., of Great Britain and America. All in all, it is the largest international association of men and women gathered for the promotion, recognition, and appreciation of poetry.

Meet Rohini - Honorary D. Litt conferred on her by the World Academy of Arts and Culture and Diploma given her at the 17th World Congress of Poets held in Seoul, Korea in August, 1997. She is also a member of the National League of American Pen Women; the Pennsylvania Poetry Society; a member of the World Congress of Poets, California; and a life member of the World Academy of Arts and Culture, USA.

Meet Rohini - artist and painter. In 1990, an exhibition of her oil paintings was declared open at Gallery Z, Pittsburg, by Sri Lanka's Ambassador to to US, Dr. Ananda W.P. Guruge. Complete painter-poet that she is, she portrayed a fascinating spread of the seasons and accompanied it with her book, 'Thoughts are Wings III" that conveyed her dreams on each season's splendour she depicted.

In 1995, her poetry collection "Ripples" was endorsed for Merit by the Pennsylvania Poetry Society. So was her follow-on collection, "Unicorn Whispers" and then her Haiku, "Firefly Crossing" published locally by S. Godage & Bros. You see, she is very much part of this country too, and is the president of Business and Professional Women, Sri Lanka.

What I now have before me is her latest collection of prose poems, "Flowers of Passion" dedicated to her grandfather W. Don. A. Gooneratne and grandmother Cecilia. On her grandfather was bestowed the rank Vidane Mohandiram by A.M. Ashmore C.M.G., Lieutenant-Governor of Ceylon, 1905. We also have a Foreword by Professor Ashley Halpe, and an Introduction by Deshamanya Dr. Vernon Mendis. I have approached this review, taking the long way, because I like my readers to picture for themselves the stuff our poet is made of.

Flowers of Passion" like her other books carry her cover paintings. On this is her painting, "Copra Mawatagama" - and the split coconuts, drying in the sun, seem to lie spread, warm, like the ardent landscapes of Lanka she captures in this collection. As Ashely Halpe says, "(there is) a variety of tropes and forms" and Dr. Mendis calls it "an exposition of philosophy relating to Sri Lanka." This collection was also endorsed for Merit by the Pennsylvania Poetry Society in 1999.

The love Rohini holds for her island home cannot be better described than in "Desires, Delusions and Dust" [p.7] where she seeks a gentler solace in 'a corner seat in this hall of thine', finding joy in the innermost shrine of her island destination:

Standing on the edge of centuries
I view tomorrow.
I am focussing on her Lankan landscape because I want readers to listen to her flaring soul songs and be one with her - the fortunates of an island that must now be renavigated, reborn, when the blossom of the dharma spreads its fragrance over the sands "stained with lion and tiger blood." This is her message in "Frivolous Shade of Frolicking Flower."
Honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine
nodding drowsy with fragrance
lazily climb bird trills..

As the sun in zenith shoots
direct fervid rays
drawing abundance from our fertile fields.
Tea, Paddy, Coconut, gardens of
Cinnamon and other spices
cymbals crackle and crumble....

But dreams can also be sad, and there is that crepitating slug that drags the slime of its sins as it advances, "swiping through the blood-drenched villages' and numbing prayerful hands clasped in devotion. Two poems on pages 20 and 21, "Dredging Eternal Essence of Apple Blossoms" and "The Sunbaked Soil Seeps" reminds us of the evil that impinges: of 'factions shivering with greed" and children voicing "syllables of horror". Let me give you an excerpt from the first and the second in full:

a human voice beckons
a silver stir of strings, calls for
love laws of Mercy and Justice,
destroy evil Karma
to perfect civilization...
There is a dirge, a parade of broken dismembered souls; a lament that is made more plaintive in the space slashes that make these lines like a litany of words too heavy to bear:
up blood, with piquant fumes
(like acrid juice of Styx)...

Rohini is unsparing in "A Sixhundredmilionyearthing" [p.24] six words in one rushing togetherness, as if she finds the centuries "tethered together by eternity" as she dredges the beds of history to make old sores erupt anew. She tells of India and Sri Lanka, the former a 'weighty body' pressing "to this tiny tear drop."

In Sinha sunlight perspiring into oblivion
melting away from itself, a weighty body presses
to his tiny tear drop earth and its history
like lotus seeds into oil cakes.
Tethered together by eternity
two great ethnic groups grapple
in scorching grains of coal,
Dante's screaming hell, bombs missiles spears
Lion and Tiger cauldron spurred on by ghosts
of former kings, senseless combat all injured
no victors just struggle defeat.

This ancient land a pastoral piece
of music performed for centuries by a
very worldly orchestra. Hiding souls,
teeming tourists panting fear while climbing
the sunrise Peak. Wretchedly wheezing
like Napolean in Egypt. Granite languishing rock
frightened by its own weight, why press each other so?
We who are all guests in the abyss. The Peak,
Adam
something from the very beginning
to make us something of the end.

What then is this island life's purpose? That we sink into and "suffer cold oblivion", hands growling around each other's throats? Always there is the cry, "Peace, Peace, Peace.." and where does it uselessly echo? Take her poem. "Young Bones Dreaming" (P26).

of shelter from such cunning cruelty
Sri Lanka mourns wicked vicious language of
bold brash bomb blasts' bloom.
As determined Destiny weeps a barreltear
for widows mangled mayhem men and life.

With ancient heat new terror strikes.
Corrosive white noises of anxiety
ethnic creeds create disconcerting quicksand
(sad ghost of Goya gazes from shadows deep)
as lions and tigers slowly sink with each thrust
futile debacles suffer cold oblivion.

Massacred Satyagraha Likes
Power! Freedom! A miracle!
to forgive? Swift sudden deadly deeds
unimpeded by withered old skeletons gaunt
Bosnia and around the entire world
Peace Peace Peace Peace Peace

I do not intend to lay more before you because what I have given should serve as an aperitif to the rich and rarer wine so beautifully bottled in this collection. Rohini excels in both approach and mood in "Secret Threads of Destiny" [p.54], where she seeks an united nation, in the endurance of millennia of divine wisdom in "Glimpses of Sri Lanka" [p.52], of the Buddhas dreaming in transparent stillness in "Polonnaruwa - Ashes Echoing Lament" [p.42], and everywhere the symbols of resplendent Nature - "sun drunk humming birds", "lilies whiter that Leda's love," the ambience of coffee blossoms; rosaries of jasmine scents, the pink-white drapes of drunken sailors' the cobra hood of the Venus fly trap; the flaming throats of honeysucklers, oleander blossoms, the fire-light flowers of the niangala, and the Mahaweli's meandering history.

There could be no better, no more fitting title than "Flower of Passion", for every poem in this collection seems to lie within the open-petalled chalice of a flower that holds the themes with a passion that boils, simmers, boils again.
Rohini his given us a philosophy that ranges restlessly, ceaselessly within her. There are new visions that startle, make us more aware of what is both home and heritage - and she takes us beyond our shores and brings those other shores to us. Her "Flowers of Passion" becomes, as a garland to true humanity that first lay, feather-soft around this, our island home.



Rekindling anew an interest in the old
Tales From Long Ago-Stories Retold from the Mahawamsa and Chulawamsa by Maureen Seneviratne. Reviewed by Anne Abayasekara
Maureen is one who has steeped herself in the history and legends recorded in the great chronicles of old. Not all of us are acquainted with the Mahawamsa and the Chulawamsa and there are, sadly, vast areas of ignorance even in our recollections of what we learned about our ancient heritage from the history books.

Maureen has re-written some of these stories before, targetting children. The Education Dept. has done well to select her three earlier booklets as `Supplementary Readers' for schools where they have been enthusiastically received by primary school pupils.

Now, Maureen has again produced a book of what she describes as "timeless tales" that should appeal to young and old equally, "to all those of whatever age they may be, who enjoy a story."

Maureen has tried to capture the authentic ‘flavour’ of the old chronicles. All young Sri Lankan children have undoubtedly felt a thrill in reading of the exploits of that much-celebrated hero-king of old, Dutu Gemunu, and in the dim recesses of my mind I remember the ten ‘yodayas’ or super-warriors who had much to do with his military successes, and his exceptional elephant, Kandula.

Equally embedded in my memory is that in the Tamil King Elara, Dutu Gemunu found a worthy foe. Maureen's stories fill in the background to each of the 10 ‘yodayas’ and how they were brought into the king's service after they had proved themselves by performing remarkable feats of strength and endurance. The full story of the elephant Kandula, born at the very same time as the baby Prince Gamini, is also presented in so convincing a manner that it's isn't hard to believe that "Never has there been an elephant with the same wisdom, courage and strength" and "never an animal so big and so powerful, so gentle yet so fierce, so loyal and devoted to his royal master, as Kandula."

I must say that I found the tales fascinating and informative. I learned that it was the good King Pandukabhaya who founded Anuradhapura and transformed it into a royal city that impressed travellers from all over the ancient world, and Maureen has included some lovely photographs in colour of the famous landmarks of old Anuradhapura.

More gripping still were the years that preceded Pandukhabhaya's reaching this stage of his life, for his hair-breadth escapes from death at the hands of the ten uncles who did everything possible to prevent his being born at all and then, when they found out how his mother had outwitted them, stopped at nothing in their attempts to kill him as a boy and young man, make exciting reading.

Another story which made an impact on me concerned King Sri Sanghabodhi (King of Lanka 251-253 C.E.), who made "the supreme sacrifice for peace". He was a virtuous man revered by his people because he was one "who carried out all that was expected of a noble ruler: giving alms, being liberal to all his subjects, practising self-restraint, being gentle, forbearing towards all."
But Sri Sanghabodhi had a mortal enemy who desired to usurp his throne. This was Gothakabhaya, a young prince from Mahiyangana, who was spurred by a blind man's prophecy that he would become king one day.

He hired what we would call a contract killer to eliminate Sri Sanghabodhi. However, when the would-be assassin actually confronted Sri Sanghabodhi, he was won over by his gentleness and kindness and felt he could not carry out the foul deed.

The king urged the man to cut off his head and take it to Gothakabhaya and collect the gold coins promised to him. When the killer baulked at this, Sri Sanghabodhi, who did not want his country plunged into a civil war, took a sword and severed his own head and became a martyr in the cause of peace. This does seem rather extreme to the modern mind, but I can't help asking myself, can we imagine any of our present-day leaders being willing to make any sacrifice, if it meant peace for the country?

It is fitting that we should know more about those times and the kings and queens who left a mark that impressed the chroniclers of old sufficiently to have them included in the saga contained in the Mahawamsa and Chulawamsa.
The lives of some heroines too are given, notably that of Vihara Maha Devi, mother of Dutu Gemunu, known in childhood simply as Princess Devi. I knew all about her being put to sea in a small boat which eventually landed safely, against all odds, beneath the cliffs of Kirinda. What I didn't know was the reason why the young Princess had to pass through this ordeal. It was because her father, King Kelani-Tissa, prompted by suspicion that the Chief Thera of the Raja MahaVihara had aided and abetted his brother in an illicit affair with the Queen Consort, had, in his rage, given orders for the Thera to be boiled alive in a cauldron of hot oil!

This terrible act incurred the wrath of the gods and soon a huge storm rose up and threatened to engulf Kelaniya and the whole western coast. Kelani-Tissa, filled with fear and remorse, was told by his soothsayers that the only way to appease the Sea-god was by offering his dearest possession as a sacrifice. The king felt he simply could not do this, but the princess undertook to pacify the Sea-god by sacrificing herself for her country and that's how it came about that she was placed in a small, rudderless, golden boat and set adrift on the raging ocean.

Round her neck was placed a gold pendant with the royal symbol and her father's title, so that her identity would be clearly revealed. The rest of the story and its happy ending, we know. It shames me somewhat that Maureen, a Burgher, (Milhuisen is her maiden name), should have imbibed Sri Lanka's history and culture so deeply and produced books to inform and educate ignoramuses like myself. Thank you, Maureen!

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