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| Friday, 6 June 2003 |
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Remembering the floods of 1947 by Sharm de Alwis We were the pupa, waiting to come out of our cocoons and shake off the fetters of the puisne as we assumed the trappings of teen-age life, when disaster struck the Country in one fell sweep. It was April 1947 and the Easter holidays had been declared in our small, provincial school which had a student population of 750 of which 400 were boarders. Sensing that disaster was looking for places to strike in the form of impending floods, some parents had fetched their children early but about fifteen of us in the Squeallery dorm were trapped in College. The first two days and nights were absorbing where we had the run of the Trinity campus, hearty food and night time frolics that kept us awake into the wee hours. On the third day homesickness set in. Stealthily we visited Kandy town to check on possible routes, mapped our strategy and made arrangements for rickshaws to be brought to College by 5 in the morning before the birds stirred in their nests. Our dorm monitor was Asoka Yatawara who was the epitome of kindness and fair-play. Reluctant as we were to let him down we had no recourse and, so, leaving a brief note for him in which we expressed our sorrow in the betrayal, we scampered to the bus halt to get to Kurunegala over the Katugastota bridge, the only bridge to withstand the ravages of the flood waters. At Polgahawela we bade fond farewell to the buddies who would take the Jaffna train - Anton Gnanasekeram, Rammy, the son of the last Maharajah of Ramnad and his cousin Theerthapathy who would go over the Palk straits to another country. The rest of us were fortunate in that we met on the train our senior, L.U.C. Kuruppu who was also Colombo bound and who shepherded us from there onwards. Flood waters were sweeping into the Ragama railway station as the train steamed in. We couldn't proceed further so we deposited our trunks in the cloak room that used to be a feature of all railway stations in the bygone times and we took to hiking over the hillocks. Large spans of water covered the countryside as we felt we were on the water's edge of the Parakrama Samudraya. Our first night was spent in the residence of the Superintendent of the Mahara prisons who happened to be an Old Trinitian and known to LUCK who made things happen. We were well fed and given the hall to sleep in and didn't we enjoy the night, swapping stories and indulging in pillow fights! Next day we trekked to Kadawatha. Flood waters were still raging and we spent the night at the Police station. On the third day of our mini odyssey, floods were abating and we took upon ourselves to brave the waters. Carrying our worldly possessions of a pillow and a pair of shoes, each, we walked waist-deep on the inundated Kandy-Colombo road, taking our bearings from the trees on either side of the submerged tarmac. At Pattiya junction the waters were swirling and we saw the stark might of angry waters which had twisted the railway lines and which now lay forlorn like huge metal streamers after the party. The waters were too much for crossing and a ferry was in operation for the price of one rupee to get past a hundred yards of treacherous waters. Those who couldn't afford the then princely sum formed human bridges holding each other by the waist as they waded chest deep further down stream. It was a pitiful sight to have seen a woman, the last in the chain, lose her grip and get washed away by the unrelenting waters. We who were safely taken across by the boatman continued our walk, this time on the higher terrain of the railway embankment, crossed the bridge, dipping our fingers through the sleepers into the maddened waters and then on to Stace road where a semblance of tranquillity reigned. There, from the bridge we threw into the stream our pillows and shoes we had lugged all the way from Ragama. It was our manner of appeasing the gods for having spared us. |
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