The moment of truth

Continued from last week...

The next day, Friday, I did not walk down to Srimani's as usual. Instead I walked by the fields now again lush with paddy. Sh sh, said the stalks swaying in the evening breeze, sh sh.

Be calm.

I could not be calm.

I stood in the middle of a 'niyara', a prime target for leeches.

I did not care. I had to sort out my thoughts. I knew I loved Srimani Silva, had fallen in love with her anywhere along these past months, unknowing. But she, had she realised what I was going to say? Did she send me away because she didn't want to hear what I was about to tell her?

I didn't know.

I had to find out.

When I went home I found Ranmali crying. English Miss had said that she would be going back to Colombo. "When?"

"On Sunday, Thaaththi. Why? Was she so frightened by the snake? Did she tell you anything when you were there today?"

"No," I said heavily. "She didn't tell me anything. I did not go today." I turned and walked out. "Not yet.''

The outer verandah of the Headmaster's house was deserted, the front door shut. Through the trellis, light filtered out. Miss' verandah light was on. She was at her table, reading. Although it was late, she was in her usual dress of long skirt and blouse tucked in at the waist. Was she expecting someone? Yes. "I knew you would come," she said as I entered. "You must have heard." I nodded. "I want to ask you not to go."

"I have to go. I am ready now. I know, I am strong enough... Strong enough to put the toys away.''

"Can't you see I am trying to tell you something?"

"I don't want you to tell me anything. Without your friendship, your companionship, I would not have healed. But now I am whole. I must go."

"You can't do that! You can't come here, make everybody love you and then leave. You can't. What about us? We need you!"

"Ranmali and the Headmaster's daughter are quite capable of carrying on the classes. I hope they will do so."

"I am not talking of the classes. I need you."

"Everybody knew, when I came, that I would go away."

"When you came, we did now know you and you...."

Srimani's face softened. "Yes, l did not know you. You are right, Granville, I do know you now. I don't think I have met anyone as kind and selfless as you. And such a good father and friend. But I have my life and I have to face it once more. If.... anyone.... has grown to like me too much, I can only say I'm sorry. I never meant it to happen."

"I am not good enough for you. I know that. I would stick out a mile in Colombo. The Village Schoolmaster! But you could live here. You have been happy here!" Srimani drew back. "Don't insult yourself Granville! But that's not what I was looking for."

I couldn't help it. I had no pride. "Don't you care for me at all?" I asked. "I do care," she said, "so much!'' She moved. The length of the table was between us. "A relationship is not what I want, what I need now."

"Shall I wait and ask you later?" But she would not offer such hope; only friendship. We talked late into the night but I could not change her mind. I left, defeated.

She went on the Sunday, as she had planned. The whole village turned up to see her off. I did too. For Ranmali's sake. "Write to me," she whispered to my daughter and through her tears Ranmali said, "Yes, Miss." They did write and I know that "Miss" was sent an invitation.

The conch shells blow. The ceremony is almost over. The bride and groom stand tall on the Poruwa. I move forward to accept a sheaf of betel leaves from my daughter and her groom. In that moment, I see her. She has come. She is standing at the back of the Hall. My wife's sister nudges me; I move back. I cannot leave my place.

The school choir, white-clad, sing the Jayamangala Gatha. The couple steps off the Poruwa together. Perfect timing. The auspices are all being observed.

They move to light the lamp. The flame flickers. The wicks start to burn.

I too light the lamp. I am almost free to go.

They cut the cake and share the first piece.

The groom's parents share a piece of cake.

Ranmali gives her aunt some cake.

Her husband gives me my share.

There is much good-natured laughing and joking.

The couple moves on to their ceremonial seat.

I rush to the back of the Hall.

It is full of people but there is no one there.

She is not there.

On the table with the gifts, lies an unwrapped offering. It is a tapestry of the Headmaster's house towards sunset. There are two figures at the gate and one on the verandah. They are waving goodbye.

THE END

'Eyes' for the blind

"They learn basic single-word commands such as 'sit' and 'down'. They are also taken on acclimatising walks to railway stations, into shops, on buses, across bridges and slippery surfaces, in lifts and through bustling crowds. Yvonne Thomas, reports on the dogs who are man's best friend

Everyone knows Lucy the dog at the House of Commons in London, where the British Parliament carries out its business. She is gentle, calm, intelligent and good-looking as well. The police salute as she goes by, down the corridors of power, mingling easily with any Member of Parliament (MP) whatever their political persuasion.

But, it must be admitted, officers of the law are not saluting Lucy, only her master, the Secretary of State for Education and Employment, David Blunkett, MP.

Mr. Blunkett was born blind and Lucy is his guide dog. She is a black crossbred retriever and she has been the MP's eyes and loyal friend since June 1994. How could he manage without her? How, for that matter, could 4,500 blind people in the United Kingdom today be as independent as they are but for the dogs trained and given to them by the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association?

The first guide dogs for the blind in the UK were trained in l931. The idea came from breeder and dog trainer Mrs. Dorothy Eustis, of the United States, and was taken up with enthusiasm and huge success in the UK. The Guide Dogs for the Blind Association is now responsible for 7,000 dogs in a constant programme of breeding, training, guiding and retirement.

There are seven main training centres and some smaller ones used as finishing schools where dogs and their new owners are taught to work together. But only apt and equable pupils are accepted. One sign of aggression and they are failed. The association breeds dogs with the right temperament: intelligent, good natured and able to concentrate. In the early experimental days, eight out of ten dogs failed. Eight out of ten pass now.

Magnus Walker, regional training manager at one of the main centres, Redbridge in Essex, southern England, (where Lucy had her lessons) says: "Half our dogs are Golden retrievers crossed with Labradors and a third are pure Labradors. The rest are Alsatians and a few other breeds. Labradors are favoured because they are so reliable and good-natured."

When the puppies are about six weeks old they go to volunteer puppy-walkers with whom they live and learn to be sociable with the family for about l0 months.

"They learn basic single-word commands such as 'sit' and 'down'. They are also taken on acclimatising walks to railway stations, into shops, on buses, across bridges and slippery surfaces, in lifts and through bustling crowds. This should provide them with the three Cs: confidence. concentration and calmness.

That's just the first part. Training and looking after the dog will cost the association 27,000 pounds sterling during its lifetime although the blind person pays a token fee of less than one pound sterling. If the puppy passes, off it goes to a centre for early training. It learns formal commands such as 'forward' or 'back' to add to its vocabulary.

"The tone of voice you use and body language are important; it's not a matter of the dog learning lots of words," explains Mr Walker.

As it progresses the dog (males and females are used in about equal numbers) is taught to sit at kerbs and cross roads when given the command but to refuse when traffic is approaching. After a few weeks it gets the harness.

Stage three is work with the qualified instructor and vehicles from the centre. The dog learns to assess the width of its handler so that it can judge whether or not a gap in a crowd is wide enough to get through without its owner getting bumped.

The final part is training the owner. There is not much of a waiting list because the association manages to keep up with demand but the next in the queue does not necessarily get the dog. It's a matter of matching personalities.

"Often we find opposites attract. If you have an excitable dog and an excitable owner, they could just wind each other up. Or if they are both too laid-back they lose interest."

The dog has to transfer its affections from the instructor to the new owner, not such a problem as it may seem. "They go with whoever feeds and looks after them." Even then when the couples have been matched, the training is not finished.

An instructor visits new owners at home to help them to orientate themselves and their dog. Then off they go, blind person and faithful hound, master/mistress and guide.

But what happens when the old dog starts to fail? After eight or nine years comes retirement, years of relaxation without work or responsibility, either with its owner who now has a younger dog to do the work or with a volunteer family.

About 700 guide dogs go into retirement every year. Meanwhile nearly 1,000 puppies are being puppy-walked ready to lead thousands of blind people back to independence. (LPS)

More Mirror Magazine * In the middle of the night! * Cool Britania Style * A song for the child servant

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