Wanderers in Eternity – Chapter 1 (Page 2)
“May gassey boho peni dodam thibey
Pahila idila bimata namila barawela athu”
Mallitai matai gedi dekak athi
Wediya kadana naraka lamai hema nowey api.”
(This tree has many sweet oranges, ripe and juicy they bend the branches to the ground. Younger brother and I, we need only two fruits. We are not bad children who would pluck too many.)
Releasing her brother from the pillar and taking his hand Janaki would walk towards the canal. While Sundaram relaxed on the camper bed he would say out loud “Be careful, Janaki.”
“Yes, Appa,” Janaki would yell back. When the two kids talked out loud and laughed, Sundaram would forget the pain in his legs. How many miles had he walked this morning? How many times did he yell out “Goni Bothaal” (sacks and bottles) while his throat tasted like blood? He would hide all the money collected so far in the day under his pillow.
Thangamani would dole out rice, dhal, and cooked green leaves into three tin plates. The biggest portion is for Sundaram. Whatever amount he ate, his jet black body was always skinny. Thangamani thought that he walked many many miles with his thin legs because of the courage in his heart.
“Soru sapidu pohuram…waanga Janaki” (”Come, Janaki, come and eat”) she would yell out to the kids for her husband to hear as well.
They would eat their meal in the section where the fire is lit. Sundaram would sit on the small short bench. Thangamani would hand over the plate to him as if she was making an offering at the kovil. The next plate is for Janaki. She would sit on the floor near Appa. Thangamani would eat from the third plate while feeding her son while leaning against a pillar.
There was never much conversation between them. Thangamani would mutter nonsense to Ranga. The child would learn new words and swallow the rice with much difficulty. After this there was a lot of chores for Thangamani to do. While she was washing the pots and plates, Janaki would put her young brother to sleep. He would fall asleep in the darkness of the shed. Sundaram would lay down only for a little while. Some days, Janaki would rub sesame oil on her father’s legs.
After finishing her cooking chores, Thangamani would separate the sacks and bottles and papers brought home by her husband. When Sooriyan Sami’s cart came by once a week, a lot of this would be loaded onto it. Or else, Kandasami’s lorry would take certain things. The aluminum and tin vessels were brought to the shed in Kandasami’s lorry. All money was handled by Thangamani. She was the one who would hide the extra money in the clay pot buried underground under the bed.
Until it was time to prepare the evening meal, Thangamani would separate the sacks and bottles, wrap pieces of thread into balls, patch up old torn clothes and attend to the vegetable patch in the yard. In this plot by the canal other than the leafy greens were a couple of tomato plants, a lime tree and a bean vine. How easy it would have been if one could grow dahl and onions the same way, she often thought. But all that and rice had to be bought at the store. Cooking oil, sugar, spices, tea all this needed money. There was no way that one could save every penny that was earned. She always thought about her children’s welfare. She would see even in her dreams how Ranganadan would become a big businessman. But weren’t these merely dreams? Yalpanam, Yalpanam- the beat of her heart would say to the rhythm of the wheels of a moving train. Yalpanam, Yalpanam.
Janaki had created her own little world by the canal shore. Among the Habarala leaves she built a little house. Pieces of cardboard, bits of oil cloth. She had no girl friends to help her in preparing make-believe rice. Who would come near this dirty canal shore? Only mosquitoes and frogs. Once in a while an iguana would come and stick out its tongue and lick in a fly. Occasionally a beautiful butterfly would flutter its wings searching for flowers unseen and leave.
Once trying to catch a butterfly Janaki chased it and fell into the canal. She dragged herself out covered in mud. She did not go near the shed till her clothes dried. Not to be seen by her parents, she walked along the canal shore towards the junction.
But seeing the vehicles and people moving hither thither she got scared and came back running.
“Nee enga ponai?” (Where did you go?) Thangamani yelled. Janaki did not reply.
“Speak up, speak up,” Thangamani slapped her daughter twice. When tears welled in Janaki’s eyes, Thangamani also started to cry. “Don’t you have brains?”
When there was no reply from Janaki, Thangamani also went quiet. Janaki picked up a book, went outside the hut and started reading. She looked at the book only for a few seconds. Afterwards she tried to read whatever was printed on some of the old newspapers that were stacked nearby. She was forbidden to untie any of the already bundled up papers. She read whatever was visible on the pages. If there were any photographs these drew her attention more. She always tried to read both Sinhala and English letters with effort.