Funday Times

Paduma's World By Nihal de Silva

Somay takes a boat ride
Länny Mama is seated on a culvert, grating an areca nut. At his feet is a large cane basket covered with a dirty piece of rag. Bothalay's father Simon Appu has advised him to avoid the track leading to the main road. Some animal had died in the jungle close to it and the smell, he told Bothalay, is unbearable. Besides there will be scavengers, jackals and wild pigs, feeding on the carcass so it is best to avoid the area.

Paduma and Mahi Bada are anxious to smell the rotting carcass. It will make them vomit for sure, but who will be first to throw up? They keep raising their noses to sniff the air but so far the breeze has not brought any trace of their prize. They stop by the culvert for a moment.

Länny Mama is a fisherman. Paduma sees him in the wäwa every evening laying his net. He is out again at sunrise to pull in the net and collect his catch. The basket at his feet must be full of fish.

"Uncle, can we look at the fish in the basket?" Paduma asks diffidently.
He keeps a safe distance because he knows that adults in the village are unreliable. They'd rather cuff a child than bother to answer a question.
Länny Mama stares at Paduma for a while, his jaw muscles bulge and flex as he continues to chew; then he turns his head and spits over the culvert. He leans over and lifts the moist cloth covering his catch.

The basket is full. It explains why Länny Mama has stopped to rest and also why he is in a mood good enough indulge them. The boys squat round the wicker basket and feast their eyes. Thilapiya and pethiya are the fish normally caught in the wäwa and so it is with this catch. A large loola stares at them balefully from the bottom of the basket. Mahi Bada pokes a fish with his finger and earns an angry grunt from Länny Mama.

The boys walk on but as they get round a bend in the track Paduma stops.
"Länny Mama parata gihing bus eken Dambullata yavi," Paduma observes.
Länny Mama will walk to the road and take a bus to Dambulla.
"Ithing?"

So?
"Varuwakkma ganivi malu vikunala enna," Paduma goes on.
He'll take half a day to sell his fish and return.
"Ithing?" Bothalay asks again.

So?
"Mama dannawa eyagey oruwa hangana thäna."
I know where he hides his boat.
They look at each other. Fear and ecstasy race through their minds in turn, first one then the other. Ecstasy wins!

They make a wide detour to avoid Länny Mama. As they pass through the village to reach the wäwa, they happen to pass Somay's house. Through the fence they see Podihamy seated on her doorstep sewing and the crippled boy in his tricycle reading a book.

Paduma has an idea. He calls out to Podihamy.
"Nända, api Somaywa rowmak geniynnada?"
Aunty, shall we take Somay for a stroll?
Podihamy is surprised and delighted: "Geniyanna. Geniyanna."
Take him. Take him.

"Are you mad?" Mahi Bada whispers. "He'll be a nuisance. Where do we to keep him when we get on the boat?"
"Why keep him anywhere?" Paduma asks jauntily. "Why not take him on the boat?"

"What … what …?" Mahi stutters.
"He'll scream like a girl when we reach deep water," Paduma says.
The other two are silent as the idea sinks in, then gleeful smiles spread across their faces.

Somay is delighted. He chatters away as the boys push the clumsy tricycle through the village and then along the rough footpath circling the wäwa. They come to a scrub-covered promontory that screens the jungle from the village. Paduma pushes his way through the bushes to a dense bed of reeds by the edge of the water. Länny Mama's boat, a narrow dugout carved out of a single tree, is hidden among the reeds.

Paduma and Bothalay jump into the water and pull the boat clear of the reeds. Mahi Bada stays on dry land calling out useless instructions. They drag the boat along the edge of the water till they get close to Somay in his tricycle.

"What about a ride in a boat?" Paduma calls out, wondering how they will induce the crippled boy to agree. "Don't be afraid. We know how to handle it."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Somay asks doubtfully. "It looks very small."
"Of course it's safe," Bothalay says scornfully. "See this paruwa? The boat cannot topple over."

The outrigger Bothalay points to is a flimsy affair. Paduma looks at the moss-covered ropes securing it to the boat and begins to have second thoughts. There are four of them and that might be too much for the frail craft. If the rope comes loose the boat will flip over; then they'll drown for sure.

Paduma thinks it is time for him, as their leader, to make a sacrifice and stay back so the others will not be exposed to danger. Mahi Bada beats him to it.

"The boat can't carry four and I'm the heaviest," he volunteers. "I'll stay back." Paduma glares at him furiously but there is nothing he can do without shaming himself. They all gather round to carry the reluctant Somay to the boat and seat him in the centre.

"I'm not sure if my mother will allow me to do this," Somay tells the panting boys. "Maybe I'll stay here and watch you." "No. No," Paduma says confidently. "You're going to love this. Your mother doesn't need to know about it. We never tell our mothers what we do, do we boys?"

"No, of course not," Bothalay adds. "Only girls go sneaking to their mothers all the time." Somay is placed on the crossbar tied across the top with his legs inside the hollow section. Paduma and Bothalay sit at either end with their legs dangling over the sides. Mahi Bada gives them a push to get them started and promises to hide the tricycle in the bushes.

A gentle breeze carries them towards the middle of the wäwa. Paduma, seated at the back end of the boat, uses the paddle from time to time. He finds the little craft surprisingly sensitive, turning sharply in the opposite direction every time he dips the paddle in the water.

They begin to relax and enjoy themselves. The boat shows no sign of sinking or toppling and the view, from the middle of the wäwa, is breathtaking. The houses in the village look small now, with barely recognizable figures going about their daily tasks. Recent rains have filled the tank and most of the weeds are submerged. Diya kava and seru dot the surface all around them; a fish-eagle circles lazily over their heads.
Somay has a permanent grin pasted to his face. He trails his fingers through the water.

"Thank you for bringing me," he says simply. "I didn't know it would be so much fun."
Paduma feels cheated.
We didn't bring you here to have fun. Where is the terror? Where are the tears?

Before he can think of a suitable reply, Paduma hears a faint yapping sound. He turns his head and sees the unmistakable shape of Mahi Bada on the bank, jumping up and down and waving his arms. He is calling out but the wind distorts the words.

"Sounds like änimar. What on earth is änimar?"
Paduma suddenly realises that he is very far from shore, much further than he wanted to be. He also realises that the little boat is now drifting even when he is not paddling. It is moving towards the bund.

Why should the boat drift towards the bund? Then it hits Paduma like a hammer blow. They are being dragged towards the spill that empties excess water from the wäwa into the irrigation channel. There is a drop of some twenty feet. If the boat goes over, they will be dashed to pieces!
Paduma paddles frantically, pushing the oar deep into the water and pulling with all his strength. Slowly the nose of the boat turns away from the bund and towards the village. Just one more stroke will do it. Paduma pulls with all his strength.

The little boat points to the village at last and Paduma breathes a sigh of relief. He dips the oar again and pulls … and the wretched boat swings in a full circle. It is pointing at the bund once again.
And closer!

The wind might have shifted because they can make out what Mahi Bada is saying.
"Länny Mama enawa. Länny Mama enawa."
Länny Mama is coming.
Oh my sainted mother. If we escape being dashed to bits at the spill, Länny Mama will certainly kill us afterwards.

Paduma tries to turn the boat again but the current is stronger now and he is tiring. Bothalay takes one look at the spill and panics.
"Api märenna yanawa," he moans frantically. "Api iwarai."
We are going to die. We are finished.
The wind cannot distort the roar of fury they hear next. Länny Mama, running along the shore, almost berserk with rage.
"Para ballo, umbalata hena gahanna oney. Satthakai pethi walata kapanawa."

Filthy dogs, you should be hit by lightning. I swear I will cut you into slices.
Paduma has no strength left. Bothalay closes his eyes, only his lips moving. He is reciting gatha in preparation for his next life.
Länny Mama is yelling again.
Which is worse, being caught by him or being smashed like a papaw when the boat goes over?
Somay says something.

"What?" Paduma snaps irritably. He has no time for comforting Somay at this moment.
"Give me the oar," Samey says. He has a confident smile on his face.
Speechlessly Paduma gives him the oar. Somey must have watched him earlier for he begins to row with a rhythmic action. Paduma notices for the first time that, although Somay's lower body is shrivelled and wasted, his arms are powerful.

As Paduma watches in amazement the nose of the little craft turns away from the spill and towards the shore. There's no chance of getting back to where they started because the current is still drawing them to the spill but they get close enough to the shore for Bothalay to grab hold of a low branch of a kumbuk tree.

They are hanging on, still trying to catch their breath when Länny Mama arrives; he has a length of rattan in his hand. Some of the words he uses are new, even to Paduma's ears.

Paduma's back is on fire and Bothalay is groaning as he limps along. Only Somay is spared but now he is the next problem. What will Podihamy do to them when she hears the story? Paduma has planned to leave the tricycle and run away but Podihamy is waiting near the gate.
"Amma, I had a wonderful time with my friends," Somay calls out. "You must give them something to eat."

Paduma enjoys the hälapa Podihamy gives them, for the excitement has made him hungry. Podihamy is delighted that Somay has had such a good time; that he has such kind and thoughtful friends. She fusses over them.
But she finds it strange that, despite repeated invitations, they seem unwilling or unable to sit down.

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