The Garden School
View(s):Musaeus College in the 1970s
shrouded and static in time,
when my mind voyages
among the gossamer memories of girlhood,
to scale those high and hefty walls of that stronghold of discipline -
that kept the girls locked in,
(and perhaps, any romantic notions locked out?)
Beyond the ice dome of the Shrine Room with its single Wathusuddha plant,
through the emerald green tunnel
alongside the courtyard of exotic orchids
the Reception Counter with its black dial-up telephone to the right;
always alert – to the parlour and Principal’s Office beyond
opposite the cream-tiled Dining Hall;
now regaled by the chords of a piano from the Western Music Room
(with its elaborate white metalwork cage);
fronting the five-storeyed new building –its top floor
inviting surreptitious morning siestas
with an eye open for raids by prefects and teachers.
Thereafter, arrested,
by the aroma of deep-frying Chinese rolls;
to taste that distinctive onion and green chili fish paste
of the Tuck Shop sandwich…
Then, in the distance, lecture theatres
and science laboratories outfitted with
Bunsen burners and a myriad of glass:
beakers, droppers, test tubes, cylinders and syringes;
overlooking the washing of white and navy blue cotton hung to dry.
Following the fawn grounds of the Tennis Courts to the left,
across the walkway of a charming mosaic design to the Quadrangle of grass
(lush at the beginning of term but somewhat threadbare towards the end -
With the toll of dreaded PT, athletics, netball, and hockey);
bordered by a pastel rainbow of classrooms,to halt –
by that perimeter of flora and foliage
(a no-go, no-girls’ land for us).
Between the ornate wrought-iron palisade
(visited by a black koha with a steadfast scarlet eye)
and the simple white paling -
a kaleidoscope of tropical tones and tinctures:
riotous bougainvillea and hibiscus of every hue,
the golden cascades of Ahala,
swatches and strips of barbertons, ixora, das pethiya;
faces and tongues of candy-red anthuriums;
fiery heliconia hanging down;
where once a peacock was perched on the takarang roof.
The spectacle too lurid to my liking at the time,
but now recalled with the attachment of loss.
Passing by old Parakumba (or was it some unknown mysterious sage?)
holding a sheaf of ola leaves
(which the girls chose to see as a slice of papaya),
shaped out of the gloomy-grey, phony-rock beside the pink lotus pond -
was it to epitomize the education of men?
Even then, it occurred to me
where were the role models of erudite women?
Then, the solid wooden doors of the Art Room en route
to the lime-green radiance of the two-storeyed Library Chamber
lined with books upon books upon books,
with the central spiral staircase
leading to more worlds of words,
long before the universe of the world wide web and internet.
Turning left to the Nursery adorned with characters of rhymes
across from the shrubberies and greenery surrounding
the half-circle of the white lotus pond,
to the line of classrooms in the Western boundary
and sometime later, to the abundant vegetable beds of
tender ladies’ fingers, deep-coloured egg plants,
red chilis as well as
Plantain trees laden with ripening bananas.
Turning right to the Main Hall,
the wooden stage which had seen the performances
of many fledgling singers, orators, actors, dramatists, debaters and dancers;
flanked by the pure white marble busts of Marie Musaeus Higgins
and Colonel Henry Steele Olcott (enclosed in glass cabinets);
and a sepia photograph of Peter de Abrew,
but not of Annie Besant – surprisingly missing…
The Theosophists
whose philosophical vision led to the realization
of a school for girls in the year 1891 -
an autonomous citadel with its own hostel, kitchens, laundry,
sickroom, sewing room, pottery room, boutique and bakery.
With that – I leave you with a topography of Musaeus,
that garden school – now effaced and even replaced ….
but perennial – in my mind.
Maithree Wickramasinghe
Past pupil
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