VILLAGE OF MY BIRTH

                                                                     

             

Where the hills and mountains steeply rise

And Adam’s Peak stands among them high

Where Lord Saman rides his Elephant white

That’s where I come from and started life

Where the Mahaveli cascades on the mountain sides

The green tea gardens in the cool climes

Is so pleasing and soothes the eyes

That’s where I come from and started life

The Jak trees laden with fruits ripe

Our daily meal was Jak, Pol Sambol and rice

What delicious food it was, comes to mind

That’s where I come from and started life

School days were full of pranks, without strife

Aboo, Soma, Sunda and Cantley comes to my mind

Race, religion was never near our minds

That’s where I come from and started life

Days when the skies are blue, and the sun shines bright

Bathing in Mahaveli, naked, a hilarious sight

From rocks, plunge, swim and dive

That’s where I come from and started life

Studying in my room, late into the night

Udarata Menike from Galaboda flashes a beam of light

Giving me the signal “Go tobed”, its time

That’s where I come from and started life

Oh! How I miss the village of my birth right

Where my forefathers under shady trees, peacefully lie

These thoughts flash within my inward eye

Nawalapitiya, is where I started my humble life.

G.A.D.Sirimal

“ KOS “ [JAK] TREE MY DEITY

Oh!  Devine tree with thy boundless bounty

Stands on poor man’s garden majestically

Spreading thy branches, cool and shady

That’s the ‘KOS’ tree, poor man’s deity

As one of eight in a large family

Ravenous, gormandisers kids were we

Feeding us with an income very measly

Meal time was one uproar and melee

Save for the ‘KOS’ tree we never went hungry

For boiled ‘KOS’ with ‘POL’ filled our tummies

‘VELA’ ‘ WARAKA’ a dessert tastes  like honey

Cannot man live contended with ‘KOS’ only.?

Mothers to lactate and in pregnancy

Doctors advice to eat ‘KOS’ in plenty

To bring forth babies bony and healthy

To serve this blessed Island steadfastly

Oldsters, under the shade of the ‘KOS’ tree

Gossip and gulp down pots of bubbling toddy

With boiled ‘Kos’ and green chillies

Do angels enjoy  such happiness so heavenly

Though some fashionables scorn outwardly

Roasted devilled ‘Kos Eta’ goes well with whisky

Ladies and children relish them for they taste milky

Savoury ‘Polos Embula’ pride of housewives culinary

Blood in our veins from ‘KOS’ runs in our family

Made men to face the world in any calamity

Whatever others say of ‘KOS’ I boastfully say

‘KOS TREE’ I worship thee, you are my deity

G.A.D.Sirimal

LECHCHUMI

Here lies unknown Lechchumi

Under the Tea Bushes, green and shady

From where she came and where she went

None cared to know how her life was spent.

Rise to the beat of Tom Toms in misty morn

Wrapped in a ‘ Kambili ’ to keep her warm

To the ‘ Perettu ‘ she walks to earn her wage

Sun or rain, to her is the same.

Up the hills and down the dales

Every Tea Bush she touches with eager face

Her fingers go clip clap plucking the leaves

When the basket is full, in smiles she beams.

The shouts of ‘SInna Durai’ ‘Kangani’ Kanakapullay’

She is accustomed to that endless symphony

She bears all these for the love of her brood

The naked children await her return with eager looks

When day’s work is done, she hastily walks

To her ‘Line Room ‘ for her household chores

Lovingly she pats her dog, cat and hens that lay

The only leisure and pleasure she gets for the day.

Sitting, Dining, Bedroom all in one, except the ‘Lat’

The floor is swept to spread her mat

A tin contains her savings of rupees and cents

The world revolves in this room ‘ Ten by Ten ‘

Ebony coloured skin, tanned in sun and rain

Her lips are red with betel stains

Hair parted with ‘Pottu’ on her radiant face

She looks a beauty on a ‘Thai Pongal’  day.

Huddled in this room she goes to sleep

With her brood and pets around her feet

Thus, ends the day with no regrets

With daily duty duly done to her ability best.

Far away from her homeland now she rests,

After her blood, tears and sweat she had shed

Offering her bones and flesh to nourish her, alien soil

For prosperity and peace of this beautiful Isle.

Her blood runs in our country’s veins

And her toils were for our national gains

Future generations could live without need

For she had left a fortune in a ‘CUP OF TEA ‘

Let not racists speak and look with scorn

As one to the world, lowly born

She has played her part with a struggled life

Let us be grateful and not unkind.

When she is judged on the Judgement Day

She would head the list for sacrifices made

For her merits are boundless and sins are less

Her place in Heaven is assured, with eternal bliss.

G.A.D.Sirimal.

LAMP POST SPEAKS

The day fades off giving way to night

Birds to their nests make their weary flight

The tired worker limps his walking strides

And I take over with a beaming smile.

As night grows older, I see with surprise

Night prowlers with groggy eyes

Hold on to me to stand upright

I feel sorry for their pathetic plight

Rogues hate me for my beams of light

They cannot steal when I am in sight

Some throw stones to make me blind

But I stand firm with all my might

Lovers in the stillness in whispering voice

Gaze at the stars glittering in the sky

Speak of the future, wishing to be bright

Build castles in the air, to pass their time

In the distance, I hear a family fight

Hungry children making heartrending cries

Father has come home, drunk, without a dime

Spending his money on cards and wine.

I ponder, Isn’t this not a heartless crime?

To keep them hungry, his children and wife

Is this the way of human life?

Live for others, happiness you will find

Dear friends, may I now say ‘ Good Bye’

For my duty will be over when dawn arrives

I will stand here and will be again alive

Till we meet again tomorrow, the same time.

G.A.D.Sirimal

THE HAT SELLER (Thoppi Welenda)

Under the spreading Banyan Tree

A weary hat seller rested a while

With his hat on, he fell asleep

With the box full of hats by his side.

Monkeys jumping from tree to tree

Came down the trees, only to find

The trader snoring, fast asleep

And thought of a prank, worth a try

Stole the hats and wore them each

Climbed the trees, in joy they cried

Jumping from branch to branch, fancy free

Made the trader to open his eyes.

What a surprise, only to see

Trace of the hats he could not find

What could have happened, did someone steal

So, for God’s help, looked up to the sky

To his dismay, up on the trees

Saw monkeys wearing them of varied size

How could I get them, thought he?

And threw his hat away, up and high.

Seeing what the trader did, the foolish monkeys

Threw their hats away, as done likewise

The trader collected his hats, with mind at ease

Went his way, a man how wise.

G.A.D.Sirimal

GAJAMAN NONA

                    

   

DONA ISABELLA CORNELIS  GARDIARACHCHI

Gajaman Nona, a poetess of fame

Was said to be a ravishing beauty , with grace

Her love for poetry was immensely great

To learn under a monk, she posed as a male.

This was done, as in olden days

Monks were forbidden to associate

Either to teach or work with females,

Cunningly, this obstacle she overcame.

Many a man, for her hand, craved and raved

She consented to marriage, when twenty-two of age

And wedded a Chieftain, Gardiarachchi by name

Who died a few years later, destiny she had to face?

There are romantic tales of her escapades

Her friendship with D’Oyly, Elapatha for solace

One should understand her bereaved state,

Struck with poverty, she had been desperate

She died in 1814, December on 15^th day

Leaving her literary works with her illustrious name

As descendants of Gardiarachchi, we profusely say

To our ancestor Gajaman Nona, a tribute this day

In the heavens above, she has found a place

Singing to Devas, in a melodious way

Enticing and keeping them happy and gay

As done on this earth, a game, she well played.

G.A.D.Sirimal

LESSONS LEARNT !

“Daily duty duly done,

Makes you happy I tell you son “

That was taught in the village school

Under a teacher who no nonsense brooked.

“A friend in need is a friend indeed”

When in trouble, it’s what you feel

There are friends who let you down

There are those, you could sincerely count

“Life is not a bed of roses”

As roses too have thorns in their stalks

Ups and downs in this walk of life

Are what one should learn to bear and strive.

“Reading maketh a full man

Writing a perfect man”

Fools could neither read nor write

So are animals who live by might.

“Early to bed and early to rise

Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise”

Parents insisted in my early childhood

That stood good in my exuberant youth.

“Stone wall does not a prison make

Nor iron bars a cage”

This was proved when scaling the wall

To meet his love, before break of dawn.

G.A.D.Sirimal