Short Story: An unforgettable lesson

R.S. KARUNARATNE

Mr. Brumble had no luck that day. So he paced his loaded gun against the wall, sat in his easy chair and called Mrs. Brumble in a hoary voice.

It took some time for Mrs. Brumble to make her appearance.

She had some trouble in walking and getting up from a seat. Mr. Brumble mumbled something that could only be understood by his better half for more than 50 years.

When Mrs. Brumble disappeared from the scene, Mr. Brumble thought it was time for him to have his favourite afternoon nap. Before he could fall asleep, Mr. Brumble saw a small figure standing close to him and begging his attention.

“Mm...who is this?”

“Don’t you know me? I’m the deer you were running after with a gun.”

“Oh, dear!”

The deer looked at him in a friendly way and said, “so what’s cooking for dinner? Pork, beef or venison?”

“So you appear to know all what I eat. Why don’t you stand still until I get the gun?”

“I know you are a civilised man. You know how to handle guns. You also know how to kill innocent animals and eat their flesh.”

“Oh! you are a philosophical deer. Where did you learn all those things?”

“I’m not philosophizing. This is the stark truth. Some say all animals and human beings are created by God. Others say we are products of a long-drawn evolution process. Whatever that may be, you have gone to public schools and learned how to kill us and eat our flesh.”

“My dear fellow, that’s the way of the world. If we don’t kill some of you, the world will be full of animals. So we have invented a gun to kill them instantly giving very little pain.”

“You can contrive any method to kill us. But do you think we are willing to die? You kill us simply because we are defenceless.”

Mr. Brumble took a deep breath and asked Ms. Brumble to bring a glass of water. He thought for a moment. At once it occurred to him that he was handling a delicate situation.

“My dear fellow, we are compelled to eat some of you because we have to exist.”

“For that why don’t you eat some grass?”

“Grass?” Mr. Brumble let out a loud guffaw. “Where on earth human beings eat grass?”

“I see. But you can eat some green vegetation. I think mother nature is generous enough to give you so many other things to eat.”

“Like what?”

“What about fruits?”

“True. We eat some vegetables and fruits. But we need a lot of proteins. So we are compelled to eat the flesh of animals.”

“You mean even the flesh of elephants?”

“No...no...you are getting very sarcastic. We don’t eat the flesh of elephants. But we eat beef and pork. Venison, of course, is a delicacy.”

“Luckily I escaped death today. But I’m sure you will definitely kill me some other day.”

“Well, that’s a possibility. Anyway, how did you escape from me today?”

“Don’t you know that we have friends in the jungle who keep us informed about your arrival.”

“Friends? Who are they?”

“The birds send me a message whenever they see a man with a gun enters our territory.”

“Next time I’ll teach those birds a good lesson,” said Mr. Brumble reaching for the gun.

“Hold it. I’m your guest. Do civilised people kill their guests?”

“That’s also true. So you’re lucky today.”

“My luck may be short lived. When I leave your premises, I know you are going to reach for the gun. But don’t do that , I’ll still be a guest returning from your house.”

“I never thought you are such a brainy animal. Why don’t you contrive a method to escape from hunters?”

“To tell you the truth, Mr. Brumble, we have no brains. We go by instinct. Even from a long distance we can sense danger.”

“We are super human beings. But we can’t sense danger from a long distance.”

“That’s how it is. Even without brains, we can go about in the jungle using our instinct. But human beings cannot sense danger until a gunman pulls out the trigger.”

“Quite true. Although our brains are developed, we have certain limitations.

Like animals we have no sincere friends to warn of impending dangers to our lives.”

“That’s a tragedy. You have stepped into the computer age. But you are insecure most of the time.”

“We are insecure because we can’t trust fellow human beings.

Some of them appear to be friends but they are capable of stabbing you from behind. Then there are open enemies who are all out to destroy you.”

“Anyway, thank you for your hospitality. Today we discussed a lot of things which may be mutually beneficial. I only hope you will not reach for the gun when I step out of the gate.”

“We are civilised people. We don’t kill our guests even if they leave the premises.”

“That’s good.”

“By the way, shall I unleash Brownie to keep your company?”

“No. We don’t trust dogs.”

“Why?”

“Because they have inherited certain human qualities by living in civilised societies.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the jungle we have a bond of friendship among all the animals. Even the tiny flies keep us informed of hunters coming into the jungle.

But dogs have lost their basic qualities after they started living with human beings. After all, they are no longer wild animals. They serve their human masters forgetting that they too are animals.”

Mr. Brumble closed his eyes only for a second. Then he saw his four-footed guest making a hasty retreat through the gate. He looked at the loaded gun leaning against the wall.

For the first time in his life he unloaded it and put away the cartridges.

From then onwards Mr. Brumble never carried the gun whenever he stepped into the jungle.

He made friends with all the wild animals and lived on vegetables and fruits until he died in his ripe old age of 100 years.

Short Story: Adam’s ladder

M. Gayanga C. NANAYAKKARA

High up in the tower of Emeraldream, Nethmi Wijesinghe (Jr.) sat back in his simple but elegantly furnished study, and surveyed his incomplete Family Tree Template on screen with approval. He had been tracing his ancestry five generations backwards, so far only along clues his nearest relatives e-mailed him.

For two years now he was updating his 15 MB website in Yahoo’s Geocities.com with his new found data, not just for the fun of it, but because it could be the only remaining evidence that would determine who the next heir to troubled Adam’s lands would be.

*

Circa 1880s a girl called Udumalagala Gamage Gimara Wijesinghe married twice. Her first husband was a Mr. Akmimana Kankanamge Gunasekara (AKG). Her second was a Mr. Thellambura Withanage Samaranaike. There were no records prior to this double marriage. No one knew who Gimara’s parents were. The people who knew who were long dead. So let’s call the three-some the Generation One.

The first marriage gave birth to three children; Jane, Alice and a third whose existence was still a matter of debate. The second marriage resulted with Johnson and Merthina Samaranaike.

The three Gunasekaras and the two Samaranaikes composed the Generation Two. Then the complications began.

A small scale land owner and cultivator from Udugama, named Udugama Gamage Sisoris Kariyawasam (UGSK) commenced an impromptu grocery business in Wanduramba, a tiny hamlet sprawled in a valley that pooled harvest lumbered in by bullock carts from the Four Roads; Yakkalamulla, Mapalagama, Baddegama and Galle.

His start-up thrived and UGSK bought out most of the boutiques in the Valley. He became rich.

One of his business friends happen to be the elder brother of Mr. AKG. This elder brother had an attractive daughter; Miss Almeda Gunasekara. UGSK married her. They had a son; Udugama Gamage Hemachandra Kariyawasam.

But beautiful Almeda met with an untimely death. After much persuasion by his friends and relatives UGSK remarried. This was with none other than Miss Jane Gunasekara the elder daughter of Mr. AKG.

So in a way UGSK had married two daughters whose fathers were brothers.

Jane gave birth to seven children; Surasena, Bandusena, Srimathi, Rose, Kulathilaka, Anula and Sheeli. They were all Udugama Gamage Kariyawasams. They represented a considerable portion of Generation Three. In fact they were later to become the most influential family group in providing the basic education to Nethmi Wijesinghe (Jr.) that helped hoisting him to his current living standard.

By this time UGSK was a wealthy land owner and affluent trader lacking only one thing; political power.

His downfall began when he went to politics and lost. He had to sell most of his boutiques to pay election charges. The victorious opposition in Wanduramba made the things only too difficult for him, and there were constant threats to his life. He fled the town and went in to hiding in the mountains with Jane and children.

Even then there were encounters.

Once, UGSK stepped out from his makeshift hut concealed well within the jungle, when he saw two shadows lurking in the tea plantation down the slope. He was sure they were armed opposition members spying on him. They were still at his wake. He slowly retreated to his cottage and shut the rickety door noiselessly as possible.

In some nights, stones rattled the roof. There were occasional gun shots. Children slept peacefully but for UGSK and Jane those were sleepless nights. Owls hooted outside, crickets chirped eerily.

Months lengthened into years and the hounding of UGSK grew less interesting for the Valley’s opposition when troubles popped up within the party itself. There were fierce in-fighting and many enemies of UGSK got themselves killed.

Although the threats ceased UGSK was broken. All his property was forcefully taken away from him. The mental strain was too much and he took to drink. Then Jane died too. when the youngest of the children, Sheeli, could only barely recognise her mother’s features.

By now UGSK owned only five acres of land as his only wealth. The five acres of land he lived in hiding all these years.

But it was very much fertile land, covered with lush unending carpet of tea, dotted with king coconut, Kithul and pepper. Where the mountain slope ended, there were two acres of paddy and its yield was more than enough for them. Halfway up the mountain, stood their house on a bit of flat land brimming with ubiquitous purple and white orchids. There were two wells fed by natural springs and the overflow watered the waist-high vegetation at the foot of the mountain.

People in Wanduramba heard about the land hidden away in the mountains with its beautiful children. They called it Adam’s Land.

Nethmi reached for the new iPhone he bought only yesterday. At a price of 400 dollars it cost him only a fraction of his day’s income in Silicon Valley.

He fondly ran a finger over its face. The phone unlocked itself.

It was sensitive to touch. The first of its kind made by Steve Job’s Apple Co. There were no buttons. Just touch screen.

When you want to make a call you just touch an icon. All buttons you need would be displaced.

When you want to send a text message the whole A to Z key board would fill the screen, albeit with space bar, backspace, Enter key and etc.

You never need to push the #7 key four times to type the letter S any more. Phones with keypad are out of fashion. Software had replaced hardware.

Nethmi called his lawyer.

* At the venerable age of 90, UGSK died and Adam’s Lands were passed on to the eldest of his sons; Surasena. But Surasena by now had already married and lived apart, with his wife Magilyn and three daughters Himali, Noroshini and Shyama.

They had in their minds to live in Adam’s Lands but they had their education to worry about.

Banudsena Kariyawasam was the dominant male in the family. He was the lord of the mansion and everyone feared him. His family disciplines were strict. His four sisters went to school under his vigilant guidance.

His teaching techniques were ruthless. And under pressure, thanks to him however, Srimathi and Rose became accountants. Anula became a stenographer. Sheeli became an English teacher.

But the youngest of the brothers, Mr. Kulathilake Kariyawasam, rebelled. He turned both his thumbs down at the family rules Mr. Bandu Kariyawasam brought to life. He was the black sheep. Their ideas clashed.

Bandu and Surasena disagreed too. Surasena enjoyed a family life and said boo at Bandu being divorced, while Bandu openly criticised Surasena’s maniacal drinking habits.

They both had their drawbacks and despised each other over bygone family feuds. And Surasena suddenly gave the ownership of Adam’s Lands to Mr. Kulathilake. Then all hell broke loose.

Family disciplines were no more. And the four sisters got married one after another and quit Adam’s Lands, letting storms brew without them.

Banda got a transfer to Polonnaruwa but still the three brothers continually fought over each other’s decisions and hence Adam’s Lands lost its recognition.

Adjacent land owners had the temerity to question the existence of Adam’s Land. Many of them filed fake complaints that Adam’s Land borders crossed theirs.

Surveyors came for inspection and found Adam’s Land indeed was a hazy bit of land that should not be there that way.

Even the individual road that lead to it happened to be laid over some private land. If that happens to be the case, future visitors to Adam’s Lands would have to hire a helicopter.

“Is this you Lindermann?”

“Ja! Hullo Nethmi. I am in Tallinn. What’s up?”

“Tallinn? That’s the capital of Esthonia. What the hell are you doing there? Tired of what I am paying you?”

“This is a great place Nethmi. Esthonia is the only nation with a budget surplus and it is the most technologically advanced in Eastern Europe. I used my hand-phone to pay parking fees, buy bus tickets, check grocery items...”

“All thanks to Skype. And it is the only place with a flat tax system. And where people offer jobs everywhere, you old baboon.”

“Why did you call? You should let me enjoy the night sights in peace.”

“Do you have that old Note Book PC with Wi-Fi?”

“Ja wohl”

“Go to Google Earth. I want you to show you something.”

There was a short silence as Lindermann pressed his shoulder against the phone and opened his laptop. “Ja. I am there. Now where do you want to me to go?”

“Type ‘Sri Lanka’ and click search. Go to this latitude and longitude. I want you to take a look at some piece of land. It is not a big shake. But it is where my mother lived. Forty years ago.”

“Ach tung! Let’s buy it!”

“Shut up.”

Mr. Udugama Gamage Kulathilake Kariyawasam took a last look at the squalid walls at Adam’s place. Everyone had left him. He had lived here along for years now and felt he has had enough. No one is coming to see him.

Everyone is minding their own business. This land should not have given to him in the first place. If he did not to come to own it, he still would be enjoying the company of his brothers and sisters.

This land should be given to someone on the top of the ladder. He had decided who that someone should be. He had already signed all legal papers.

He picked up two suitcases and quickly went down the steps where the car was waiting. He would go to live in Colombo for a change. A place buzzing with voices. That’s all he needs. He had enough of this loneliness.

This time, he would not let Nethmi Wijesinghe down, he thought weakly as he got in and drew away. After all, he was his nephew. This place really belongs to him. He was the son of Rose.

* For the dear readers of Daily News: if you have comments on this story please e-mail the writer at:

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