Children

Aunt Mali’s reminiscences of childhood Avurudu

Three of us, my two brothers and I were young then - young like you all who contribute arts to Aunt Mali’s page. When the vast expanse of the paddy field before our house turned golden, when the hip-high paddy bent down with the weight of the ears of paddy, we knew that the Aluth Avurudda was not very far.

Paddy was harvested once or mostly twice a year then. During the harvest season, we felt the excitement of the atmosphere for the arrival of Aluth Avurudda.

In the village, whether one owned a paddy field or not, everyone made sure that each household got at least a few measures of paddy from the harvest, by helping in the harvesting activities. With the paddy thus earned, they would prepare Aluth bath dane or alms from the new harvest for the village temple an god Aiyanayake and goddess Pattini. This was an obligation of every household in my village, before the Aluth Avurudda.

My parents did not own paddy land either. But we were not devoid of the harvest which many of our good neighbours enjoyed. Being an ande-goiya (farmer who received a pre-determined proportion of the harvest in lieu of his farming labour) my father got part of the harvest from the paddy-field he worked.

A few weeks ahead of the New Year, the roof would be thatched with new cadjans which my mother would weave and collect since February. In the month of ‘Navam’ or February, a coconut palm sheds nine dry coconut branches the villagers believe, and it is probably so.

Then comes the coating of the floor with cow-dung. My mother would collect cow-dung early in the morning. It was my part of the task to break up dry hard chunks of ant-hill clay and make clay powder. Then she would mix the clay powder with the still warm cow-dung to make the paste.

Sweeping the floor, and clearing it of the few pieces of furniture we had, she would apply the cow-dung and clay paste on the floor. Squatting on the floor, slowly moving backward, she would smear the mixture, without leaving any unevenness or mounds on the whole floor area - the two rooms, the kitchen including even the fire place and stoves.

Although it was school holidays, the whole time was not meant for play, at least for the girl in the family - that ’s me. Mother would make sure that all three of us help her in her work in the household in preparation for Avurudda.

Mother would call Kiring Achchi, an elderly woman in the village to help her in making sweetmeat for Avurudda. Mother called her ‘Kiring Nenda’.

Mother wouldn’t allow her pound rice alone. She would say that she felt bad about it. So, mother too would join Kiring Achchi with a pestle. Standing opposite each other, the two would pound the flour, filling us with wonder how the two pestles never clashed and how they avoided putting both pestles in the mortar at the same time.

Mother would assign me the task of sifting the flour. Kiring Achchi would measure part of the flour into an earthen ware bowl, add treacle and a few seeds of roasted cuming seeds and mix the whole with a coconut-shell ladle. Lanu vetena padama was the right consistency she would say.

I watch her in admiration taking the mixture in the ladle and pouring it back into the bowl from about 6 inches above. The condensed milk like Kevum piti would fall back like a rope forming one ridge above the other over the paste to disappear in several seconds. (Kiring Achchi looking very solemn would pour the oil into the pan. At this moment she would not talk even to answer any question from mother or us.

‘One should not talk while pouring the oil in the pan’, she would say. ‘Then the fire burns more oil’ she would explain to me.

We would tear hanasu (dry sheaths of coconut flowers) in to thin strips to light the fire, making things easy for Kiring Achchi. When making Kevum, I was always ready to assist Kiring Achchi, a kind of a bribe, because she would give me the last bit of the Kevum mixture to try one or two kevums and to make the ‘Diya kevuma’ - the last shapeless rotti like thing made adding water to the remaining mixture stuck in the bowl.

Roasting cashew nuts to make Aluwa’ was done by father. He would spread dry coconut leaves on dry cashew nuts spread on the ground and set fire to the coconut leaves. In no time the nuts would catch fire making, bursting noises and some of the nuts running on the ground for a few inches like little balls of fire before they defuse.

Then the nuts would be collected and kept underground for one night - the secret was to get the whole kernal intact, when they are chopped open. The aroma of the roasted nuts was tempting, but we would not dare touch them.

‘Kadju kiri’ stain would not leave your fingers for weeks - a sure qualification to get a good sound scolding from the school head master when he would come round inspecting our nails.

Father always reserved a bunch of plantains in the plantain at the backyard for the Avuruddha. ‘This is not for sale’ but for our small ones for the Avurudda’ he would say when he first saw the flower in the tree.

For us it was a big thrill to cheat the cuckoo bird by imitating its voice. When it sings ‘cu-cuckoo’ hidden in a grove nearby, we too would say cu-cuckoo. Thinking that it was his mate calling him, it would reply saying cu-cuckoo.

This would go on for a few minutes before he would realise that the voice was not from its mate. It then gives out an angry shriek and flies away.

Before the old year ended father had another important task to make a ‘Malpela’ in front of the house. A coconut frond would be woven into a cadjan and bent to take the shape of a round basket.

Loose leaf edges would be tied with another Gok kolaya. This would be passed through three poles which have been erected and the ‘basket’ would be tied to the poles. As the ‘Nonagatha’ begins he would light a coconut oil lamp inside the malpela. Before the lamp, some flowers, a lighted joss-stick and a coin on a beetle leaf would be placed.

New Year would dawn early in the morning next day. Mother wanted us to finish our dinner earlier than usual so that she could finish cleaning the kitchen and put out the fire to mark the passing of the Old Year.

“We would gather around the bottle lamp on the table and eat our dinner, the last meal for the old year.

Mother had one more thing to do before she retired for the old year. She brought into the house, a pot of water filled to the brim and kept it covered in a corner. This would be taken away after the day of oil anointing.

We would go to sleep on the mats breathing the smell of dry cow-dung on the floor and fresh laundered smell of pillow cases, and mother’s prayers filling our ears.

With the crackers bursting from all over, we woke up for the New Year. It was still early dawn-not the usual time we would wake up on any other day. Father would pour some more oil into the lamp in the ‘maty pela’. Mother has made the hearth ready. She has laced a new earthenware pot on the hearth with washed Kekulu rice in it.

Mother would wait near the hearth with the box of matches in hand to light the new fire for the New Year, till father announces the time. We too would stand beside her in joy and excitement.

The temple bell rings and the crackers start bursting all over the dawning village. Mother has lighted the fire now. She worships the pot of rice.

Our small table spread over with a white cloth is laden with kevum, kokis, aluwa and plantains with an earthenware lamp in the middle. Mother would bring the plate of Kiribath and place it among the Kevili.

We wash ourselves and wear our new clothes. With the stomachs burning without the usual cup of tea, we would wait impatiently until the auspicious time arrives.

May be because we had early dinner, or may be after seeing all the good things we were to eat, we feel more hungry than usual. Malli would not budge from the table. ‘It is time now’, father would announce. We have already gathered round the table. Mother would feed each of us with a mouthful of Kiribath. “What about me?” Father too would demand a mouthful from mother. When she feeds him we are amused and laugh happily.

With a bulath hurulla (a sheaf of 40 beetle leaves) we worship our parents. They would feel our heads and say ‘May the Triple Gem protect you’!

Then mother and father exchange money with each other. Father never did Ganu denu with an outsider. But many people, small traders in the market came in search of him. ‘Podi Mudalali’s hand is lucky’ they used to say. We would get some money from father too, but we did not have to do any Ganu denu.

By planting a coconut sapling in the pit already dug for the purpose, father would do ‘Veda Ellima’. This has been something he had been doing for years now.

Mother goes to the well, drops a coin into it before she draws the first bucket of water for the New Year.

‘We should go and worship Seeya’, she would say to us, hoping it to be heard by my father. With a plate of kevili, she takes the three of us to the ‘Maha gedera’. One of us carries the sheaf of beetle leaves with which we used to worship our parents.

We would be greeted by Seeya at the door, and led in. Mother worships Seeya and Loku Mama and would greet nenda. We worship all of them.

‘You all should come for lunch on the ‘Oil Anointing Day’, Loku Mama would say. ‘You should bring Malli too’. By Malli he meant my father.

Bathing for the New Year was something which gave us a lot of joy. After anointing ‘Nanu’ brought from the temple, we would go to the ‘Oya’ to bathe.

In April, this Oya fed with the first is in full surge. One would need a boat to go across it. But today, even a twelve-year-old can wade across it.

It was the belief of the villagers that the Oya got new water to ‘wash heads’ for the New Year from the early April showers.

Mother would keep our clothes under a shady tree, and get in to the water. I would follow her. My two brothers are already in the water, swimming to beat each other and throwing water at each other at the same time. Father would wait on the bank, keeping a watchful eye.

The Oya is crowded with people of all ages, all known to each other. They greet each other for the New Year in their own unpretentious way, ‘Avurudu Kohomada’, and the answer would be ‘Avurudu Jayai’. And all were happy.

Hungry, we return home to go to Maha gedera for the Avurudu meal. We would be making friends with Loku Mama’s family again.

What a nice way to start the New Year.

MG

Unity, harmony among communities in New Year stamps

Francis P. Gunasekera

The whole country is in a festive mood for the New Year which will dawn at the auspicious hour tomorrow - Friday. The New Year which is identified as the Sinhala and Hindu New Year occurs when the sun, the giver of life to all beings sees the sign of pisces (meena) moving from its house to arrive to that of Aries (mesha).

Stamps of several countries underline this phenomenon to remind us all the significance of the occasion.

This activity of the two signs of the zodiac provide happiness and joy which the New year abundantly bestows on man without reservation.

At this time of the year, the revival of love and care among all relatives emerge a custom preserved from generation to generation. Kiribath, kevum, kokis, athiraha together with ripen plantains find their places on the dining table in all homes and happiness and joy is shared among the members of families.

This provides hitherto unseen unity and harmony as a blessing on the occasion for all time.

Sri Lanka has honoured the New Year twice in a special manner through its stamps. Four stamps were issued for the New Year 1986 on a suggestion made by this writer and it was meant to be an annual issue to celebrate an event which paves the way for unity and better understanding between the two communities - Sinhalese and Tamils.

However, a year later the number of stamps fell to two in all and thence the idea was lost for ever.

Will Sri Lanka re-start issuing New Year commemorative stamps which underline this essentially important fact of harmony between the two communities at least from next year.

After the World Trade Centre disaster in New York, America, 2001 the United States Postal Service came out with a stamp depicting the American flag with these words inscribed “United we stand”. Billions of these stamps were issued, the biggest circulation in American Postal history. This shows the publicity power of stamps when it is necessary to achieve a desired target.

Youths of the nation are all agog at this time of the year as they get an opportunity to show their forte in fast cycling. This sport has become a New Year feature of excellence for long and now it is found as the top most activity during the time of the New Year. The whole nation is jubilant with many benefactors offering prizes to winner.

Apart from stamps featuring cycle races you will also note stamps showing signs of the zodiac issued by Austria, Maldives, Israel and Sharjah.

A stamp from Laos is shown to remind you of the singing of the cuckoos which are symbolic at this time of the season.

Large souvenir sheet from Israel is a combination of four triangular stamps each representing 3 sings of the zodiac. Four stamps in the top row are out of the six stamps issued in 1986 and 1987.

Let us wish you all a happy and prosperous Sinhala and Hindu New Year!.

Folk tales of Sri Lanka:

A short-lived quarrel

Retold by R. S. Karunaratne

Once upon a time there was a Gamarala who was engaged in chena cultivation. He led a happy life with Gamahamine, his wife, setting an example to others.

Both of them used to have their meals together. Gamahamine helped her husband in his chena cultivation. Gamarala also helped his wife in the kitchen.

One day Gamarala and Gamahamine quarrelled over a trivial matter. Gamarala was so angry that he made a dash for the chena. Gamahamine sat in the kitchen without doing anything.

When her anger subsided Gamahamine began to cook the mid-day meals. She thought that Gamarala would come home as usual to have his lunch. However, Gamarala did not come home for lunch. He ate some raw vegetables and managed to skip his lunch. Gamahamine thought that she quarrelled with her husband without any reason. Gamarala also realised that he was too harsh on his wife.

As dusk fell, bats began to fly between the trees. Gamarala did not wish to spend the night alone in his chena. Meanwhile, Gamahamine was waiting anxiously for his arrival.

Gamarala returned home dead tired. He was feeling very hungry. But he decided not to speak to his wife.

Dinner is ready. If there is anyone who is hungry they can come to the kitchen and serve themselves,” Gamahamine said aloud getting ready to have her meals.

On hearing her words, Gamarala walked into the kitchen and started having his dinner. Later he waited outside the house as if he wanted to go to the hut in his chena.

After clearing up the kitchen Gamahamine came out and said aloud, “If there is anyone who is sleepy, they can sleep in the bedroom.”

On hearing her words, Gamarala went into the bed room and found that Gamahamine had prepared the bed with a new bed sheet and pillow cases.

Without uttering a word Gamarala lay down on the only bed they had. Gamahamine too walked into the room and said, “I am also exhausted and I need some rest. Will the person sleeping here allow another person to share his bed?”

On the following day Gamarala and Gamahamine woke up to begin their daily work with added enthusiasm.