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! |