Funday Times

Paduma's World By Nihal de Silva
Paduma goes gemming
Paduma watches the bus pull away. He doesn't understand why big people make such a fuss over small things. Paduma first asks white hair to take them home to Wilgama. When the man refuses, Paduma asks to be taken to white hair's village near some place called Ambalantota. Ambalantota is near the sea, they are told, and Paduma is keen to see it.

White hair agrees and the boys are delighted, but later Bothalay overhears them planning to hand them over to the police. The treachery of the man shocks Paduma. 'Kamak nähä,' Mahi says tearfully. 'Kosso apiwa gedera geniyavi. Mata ammi balanna oney.'

Never mind. The police will take us home. I want to see my mother.
'Umbata pissuda?' Paduma asks. 'Api padey wändeth nähä; okkoma väradi wäda keruwey. Ung apiwa sure ekata hirey dhavi.'

Are you mad? We didn't worship the sacred footprint; we have done all kinds of bad things. They will put us in jail for sure. So they sneak off and hide behind a tea kiosk. White hair and his group make a brief search for them and then give up. The boys watch the bus as it goes down the hill and disappears round a corner.

'Hari, ung giya,' Bothalay says, turning to Paduma, 'Däng monawada karanney?"

Right, they've gone. What do we do now?
Paduma is taken aback. He has thought that they would sit together and discuss their plans but it seems that his friends are looking to him to lead the way. He spends a few minutes in thought while they wait expectantly.
'That man was very bad; he could have taken us home but didn't want to,' Paduma says. 'All the others can't be like that. Let's wait here and ask each nadey as they come down. Someone will take us home.'

The others look at Paduma with respect.
'They won't know where Wilgama is,' Bothalay objects. 'How will we show them the way?'
'We'll ask them to take us to Dambulla,' Paduma responds loftily. 'Everyone knows Dambulla.'

They are confused and discouraged when group after group kindly but firmly refuse to take them home. One man takes a moment to explain why. Pilgrims from Paduma's part of the country would climb Sri Pada from Maskeliya; those from the south would come to Ratnapura. No group from the Ratnapura side will return through Dambulla.

Once again the boys look to Paduma for guidance and he doesn't let them down.
'No use waiting here, everyone is going the wrong way,' he announces. 'We must go to Ratnapura.'

'What's the use of going there?' Bothalay asks. 'We'll be further away.'
'In the big town, there will be people going the other way,' Paduma explains patiently. According to his reasoning, if all the pilgrims here are going away from his home, then all he has to do is to find someone going in the opposite direction. They are sure to go past his village.
The owner of the kiosk is a bare bodied man with tufts of white hair covering his chest. He looks at the boys with a frown of irritation.
'There's a van that goes to Ratnapura,' he says gruffly. 'They'll charge fifteen rupees. Half for children.'

Paduma mumbles something.
'What?'
'We have no … money,' Paduma says.
The man takes a deep breath as if to control his temper. 'You have no money … and you want to go to town,' he says at last. 'And what will you do when you get there?'
'Find someone to take us home,' Paduma answers simply.
The old man stares at the boys for a moment; he then shrugs and turns away saying:

'The estate tractor will be here soon. The driver might take you part of the way.'
The trailer is filled with firewood, and it bounces so violently that they need all their energy to hang on. Bothalay tries to speak and bites his tongue. The driver, an unshaven man with a towel wrapped round his head, doesn't even look back till he turns into a gravel track and stops the vehicle.
'Mechcharai,' he says, spitting a stream of betel juice. 'Oi parey giyoth Ratnapura.'
That's all. That road will take you to Ratnapura.

The boys climb down with some difficulty and with much relief. The tractor roars away as they survey their surroundings. The road shimmers in the blazing afternoon heat. Mara trees offer some shade but the tar on the road is so hot they are forced to walk along the grass verge. They see small houses hidden in the trees in the high ground on the right while long stretches of paddy fields lie to their left.

They plod on in silence for a while. Hot air rising from the road burns Paduma's nose and makes his eyes water. His legs feel rubbery, no longer having any strength. His throat is dry and his stomach empty.
They see a culvert in a shady spot and collapse on it.

'How far is it to the town?' Bothalay asks. He still has confidence in his leader.

'It can't be far,' Paduma answers. 'Otherwise that man wouldn't have told us to walk. We just need to find some water to drink …'
'My ammi must be crying …' Mahi Bada starts.

'She won't even know that her baby is lost,' Bothalay says. 'The bus must be still on the road.'

'No. They must be still looking for us. Uleris can't go home and say they lost us,' Paduma says. 'And … they must be giving it to Patholay.'
This thought cheers them up and gives them new strength. When they get to their feet Paduma spots a papaw tree in the home garden above them. Even from the road they can see that the lowest fruits are yellow. There is nothing that seems more desirable at that moment than a succulent, tree ripened papaw.

There is a woman husking a coconut in the garden.
'Go and ask that aunty for some water,' Paduma instructs the others. 'When she goes inside, I'll get the papaws.'

Bothalay and Mahi are visibly impressed with the plan and readily agree. They jump over the bamboo stile and walk up the footpath. Paduma watches from behind the shrubbery. The woman looks up and greets the boys.

'Mey lamai kohay indannda?'
Where are you children from?
'Apita bus eka wäraduna, nändey. Ratnapurata ävidinawa.'
We missed our bus, aunty. We are walking to Ratnapura.
'Aney deiyanney, umbalata mahansi athi,' the woman exclaims. 'Enna. Wadiwenna.'

My goodness, you must be tired. Come inside and sit down.
Paduma is elated; his plan is working. He picks up a stick and enters the garden.
The dog spoils everything.

Paduma is taking aim at the first fruit when he hears it behind him, a low growl like thunder from an approaching storm. His worst fears are realised when he glances over his shoulder.

It is the blackest dog Paduma has ever seen; black, that is, except for the yellow teeth he can see between the snarling lips. If the dog had barked Paduma would not have been so afraid. This one looks like a biter.

Paduma throws the stick at the animal and races away but he knows there is no chance of reaching the road. He sees a kottang tree before him and flings himself at the trunk. He hears a distinct click of teeth near his ankle as he swiftly draws himself onto a low branch. The dog doesn't give up but remains circling the tree and barking. Paduma grinds his teeth in frustration.
What can be keeping his friends so long?

They come out at last, accompanied by the woman. Through the thick foliage he sees Bothalay walking down the road, searching for him. Mahi stares dreamily at the paddy fields, rubbing his hands over his belly.
When Bothalay finally understands the problem he pelts stones at the dog and confuses it long enough for Paduma to escape. As they hurry away Paduma expresses his annoyance.

'Why did you take so long to drink water? I was stuck in that tree for hours.' 'But aunty gave us to eat,' Mahi says with a belch. 'We couldn't leave and come.' 'You should have come with us,' Bothalay adds, 'instead of trying to steal papaws.'

They have been walking for a while when Paduma sees some men sanding in a dry paddy field, looking down at a great hole they have dug. The boys leave the road and approach the work site.

Two men in the pit are using shovels to fill baskets with earth. A third man is lifting the filled baskets into the hands of another fellow standing above. A heavily built man in a clean sarong stands on one side supervising the work. He looks at the boys in surprise.

'Where did you fellows come from?' he demands, his heavy moustache bristling. 'Go away.' The man is on the far side of the pit and this gives Paduma some courage.

'What are you doing?' Paduma asks. 'Are you going to plant a tree?'
'This is a gem pit,' the man growls morosely.
'Have you found any gems?' Bothalay asks. 'Can we see?'
'No. We haven't come to the illama yet,' the man says, clearly impatient. 'Now clear off. You can't stay here.'

Bothalay wants to stay and watch but Paduma drags him away. He is bubbling with excitement. 'Let's wait till it's dark,' Paduma says as soon as they reach the road. 'We can come back and find some gems. I want to give one to my ammi; then she won't be angry about our getting lost.'
'You're mad,' Mahi scoffs. 'How can we find a gem in the dark?'
'Bothalay has a torch,' Paduma answers confidently. 'We'll get into the pit and look.'

'How will you know a gem stone?'
'It is blue and shiny; Josa mudalali said. It will be easy.'
They hide in an abandoned massa, a watch hut, where they share the boiled breadfruit the woman with the papaw tree has given them. When they climb down the world has gone dark and eerie, no longer the safe, cheery place it had been when the sun was in the sky.

The tiny flashlight Bothalay has brought is of little help as they find their way, tripping and stumbling through the field. As he clings to Paduma's collar, Mahi moans that he wants his mother.
The mound of earth helps them to locate the pit. The beam of light reveals a rough bamboo ladder leaning against the side. There is a whispered argument as to who should lead the way. Paduma feels that, as their leader, he should remain at the top, directing the search. The others don't agree.

Suddenly they are caught in the beam of a powerful flashlight. A voice booms out:

'What are you thieving rascals doing here? I knew you were up to something.' 'Don't know why that man was so angry,' Paduma says. 'We didn't do anything.' 'Why was he watching the pit anyway?' Bothalay asks. 'Doesn't he trust people?'

'What will happen to us?' Mahi asks, once again near to tears. 'I wish I could find my ammi.' 'Don't worry,' Paduma replies. 'The man will feel sorry in the morning and let us go.' They try to make themselves comfortable on the cold clay floor.

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