Short Story: The glass bangles

Patricia Mangalika Yahampath

She was as beautiful as the moon in the horizon, so fresh as a rose plucked from Paradise. She was none but the tea plucker's little beautiful daughter 'Uma'. Day in and day out I see her going along the foot-path to the Estate school with her brother 'Binu'.

There wasn't a single day that she didn't bring a rose for me from a way side garden, or from a bush in the wilderness. Time passed, and I became her good friend.

And I longed for her pleasant company.

I wondered whether this was a binding of the past.

She spoke about many a thing to study well, and shine and make her life bright - if not she too would have to toil hard for a living like her poor parents who are wrapped in poverty, and the only way to overcome this poverty is by studying hard to come up to a better position where she could help her poor parents, and her brother.

She studied at the estate school and I was told that she always - never failed to get the first place in the class.

She was good at dancing and the teachers told that she would be a fine dancer one day.

I teased her saying that she would beat Vijayanthimala - the flame of the South to which she gave an innocent smile. With a moon like face, tresses of jet black hair falling below her knees, sparkling eyes, the angel - like look in her face made her look - a being fresh from heavens.

It was really a wonder if any one didn't have a second look at her. Sometimes I imagined how she would look like when she became a maiden.

All this happened in the Estate Glenadale at Nuwara Eliya, where I was staying with my son who was a planter. Then came a time where I could not wait without seeing my little friend.

She spoke of many things. Every word she uttered were of wisdom. She was knowledgeable. There was an inborn talent in her. With all these something was telling me of something that I could not understand, nor define.

I wondered what this mystery was? Days passed. I would wait near the gate of the bungalow waiting for my little friend. I gave her little trinkets and presents, she beamed and gleamed with happiness.

One day she told me innocently, 'lady you give me beautiful things, for which I am so thankful, but I want something special from you'. I asked what it was, and she shyly told me that it was coloured glass bangles that she wanted.

I said that it was a simple request, and I shall buy it for her no sooner I go to Colombo. She told me that, the bangles she had broke, and her mother has no money to buy new ones from the fair.

Days passed.

I came to Colombo, and decided to spend some days with my family, but no sooner I came to Colombo, the first thing I did was to buy the coloured glass bangles for my little friend. I bought them of lovely colours, red, green, yellow, blue, pink, purple and orange.

I imagined how beautiful she would look, when she wear them on that beautiful delicate hand.

She will look like the rainbow.

How proud will she be to show them to her school friends?

How pretty she will look in her dark coloured ankle-length skirt with the choli on top, her long plait with flowers falling below her knees, with anklets on her feet, and bangles on her hand and the pottu on her forehead.

She will look the typical Indian dancer.

These thoughts circled and haunted my mind.

Two or three moons passed, but I was still in colombo. She was haunting in my mind. I wondered why I could not understand my own mind.

I packed the glass bangles carefully for fear of them being broken and I imagined how happy she would be to see me and the bangles, undoubtedly her joy would know now bounds.

While in Colombo I read in the papers and heard over the radio and TV, the disasters caused by earthslips and storms. I was worried, ugly thoughts came circling around my mind.

Why was this? I thought that I must come back to the estate at my earliest. I did so. Having come to the estate the first thing I asked was from my son about 'Uma'. I told him the story about the bangles.

His face changed. I knew he was going to say something, but in my wildest of dreams, I for a moment did not imagine that he was coming out with this.

My son then told me that there were heavy rains and earthslips. An earthslip had occured on the estate lines, and along with the other lines, Uma's line was shattered. and Uma was an unfortunate victim who was buried under the rubble. It took hours to clear the debris.

By the time they look her out she had breathed her last.

I felt as if the whole world was turning. I was spellbound and tongue-tied.

Little Uma, why did this happen to you? I wondered whether this was a foretelling of something I could not define. You have gone to a better world.

My son showed me the place where she lay.

I went up to the humble grave where she now rests and bowed down in silence.I saw everything like a movie.

I kept a sprig of roses on the grave - like what she had brought for me and walked away with tear- filled eyes and finally wishing.;

May you not have an untimely death and all the merits we gained be for you.

The path you walked is lonely and the birds miss you too but the flowers still bloom - they are for you - every thing is there, but not you.

You may be singing with the Angels high, plucking rose buds in the garden of Eden.

The lovely coloured glass bangles are there for you. I treasure them and wait for you.

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The hunt

S.R.M. Samarasinghe

The moon had just cleared the tree line when we reached Wellawaya. We stopped the car near a very small coffee boutique by the roadside. The owner obviously knew my cousins, as he said "you gentlemen out for a hunt"? to which inquiry my cousin answered in affirmative.

The story is set in the mid fifties when I was just a stripling of about 15 years. Not as bright as today's 15 year olds though no less enthusiastic for adventure.

My late father who was a fairly high government official was able to borrow a brand new Willy's Jeep from the government for the 'run in' period.

The vehicle came with a police driver. The trip was to be from Colombo to Tangalle for his nephew's wedding, and thence to Kataragama and Yala Sanctuary.

My father was highly respected in his village, the village boy who made it good. We were greeted with the promise that the morrow will bring us venison, rabbit and wild boar for lunch. Immediately my mind was working overtime, wild meat meant a hunt, if so who was going hunting.

If I was to join the party of hunters the best person I had to get around was Aunty Millie, Kalu Uncle's kind wife. The ploy worked perfectly, and I was an unavoidable nuisance to the hunting party.

Kalu uncle's two sons Puncha and Hina and their friend Hinnimahattaya and self comprised the party to bring home the pound of flesh.

We started off just after five in the evening in their sleek new Chev. Deluxe. Travelling in a limo like the Chev one could really feel the difference of rough riding in a Jeep. There were two shotguns and brown paper bag of cartridges.

It took us the better part of two hours to reach our rendezvous at Wellawaya. The road throughout seemed void of human beings except for the odd straggler returning from most likely an illicit hooch joint. But life in the way of innumerable bunches of stray cattle and buffaloes abounded the road, and was a never ending nuisance to the driver.

At the Coffee Kade we had light refreshments as we were not sure when we'll have our dinner. It was buns and bananas washed down with plain tea.

Hinnimahattaya had a shot or two of the home brew, which was actually the profitable line for the boutique keeper. By the way the entire repast sans the hooch added up to less than 2 rupees. My cousin Puncha paid this muttering that we were being robbed at such high prices.

About another mile on the Ella road we turned off into a dirt road, which was more a cart track than a road for a Chevrolet. Quarter mile or so down this track we came to a stop at a small hut. No sooner were the lights switched off, the mongrel chorus started with a vengeance. The occupants of the little house a couple of them came out eyeing us suspiciously.

One of them recognized Hinnimahattaya who exchanged pleasantries and told the man of our intentions for the night. Certain tips were got from the man regarding various animals. The man said there had been elephants in the neighbourhood a couple of days back but seems to have moved on.

The actual time of setting off on foot was nearly 8 p.m. with a fair amount of moonlight penetrating the scrub undergrowth.

I must mention here that the main hunting party tried their best to make me stay in the car while they were out, of course, they failed. There had not been much rain in the last few weeks and our best bet it seemed was the little tank nearby.

This was reached in about 20 minutes, it was more a water hole than a tank, yet it provided water not only for the animals but also for the villagers who lived nearby.

On skirting the tank I had this uncanny feeling of being followed by someone of something, but shrugged it off thinking my imagination was running riot. When again and again I heard the slightest of the rustle that's not brought about by wind I looked back.

Not more than 20 yards behind us was a pair of bright burning eyes. I was momentarily frozen to the spot by quickly gathered myself and covered the few feet that separated me from the hunters.

I told them what I saw, but I was rebuked for my trouble when they politely asked me to shut up and keep close to them.

Nevertheless I could not keep looking over the shoulder every few steps we went. Again I saw those shining eyes in the moonlight and instead of making a further nuisance of myself I got close to the party.

Reaching the other side we all squatted down under a huge Palu tree as they called it. The waiting was most uneasy, and my original enthusiasm was dying. I was now hungry, thirsty and restless with cow dung and mud all over my bare feet.

Over all this the mosquitoes had made me their private blood bank. I was politely but sternly told not to gnash them after my first natural reaction towards the pesky insects.

A few moments later which I felt like ages then, Hinnimahattaya made a hardly audible "shh" and pointed in front.

Immediately I did not see a thing but gradually the forms of a large bunch of wild boar materialised one by one. He signalled my cousin to cock the gun while he did the same with the double barrel.

Both of them took aim and fired in unison.

Screeching and crashing in the underbrush was followed by the deafening noise of the guns. A young sow was kicking and drawing its last breadth while the screeching of another could be heard fast fading away from us. Two of them carried the victim which still gave an occasional spasm of life.

It was pointless to stay longer there according to the hunters, so we washed the pig in the muddy water and started for the car. Hinnimahattaya lead the party with the added aid of a torchlight as the hunt was over.

Suddenly he stopped with a gasp and pointed to some fresh tracks. They were, he said belonged to a leopard, and according to him, who knew the way of the jungle, the leopard had been there few minutes ago.

This was when I very angrily recalled my mysterious follower with bright eyes. If the fellow was an old man killer I would not be writing this story today.

We were close to Hambantota now and driving at a good clip between 50 and 60 mph.

We were homeward bound but the prized bag of a deer was missing.

It was just after eleven when we reached Hambantota and the roads unlike today were deserted.

Even the town proper was dead to the world. Puncha said we were definitely going to be short of meat for the wedding and beef was something abhorred by the respectable in the village.

Hinnimahattaya who was seated in front for the rabbit shooting suddenly whispered something into Puncha's ear.

To this my cousin gave an impish affirmative laugh. Just out of town, even today one encounters many a herd of goats in Hambantota.

Once out of the main bazaar and populace area, may be about a mile out Puncha purposely rammed the car into a resting heard of goats. One large male was fatally wounded, was sprawled by the side.

The car immediately stopped and the goat was in the boot before one could say jack Robinson. It happened so suddenly and quickly that I did not utter a word for sometime.

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Power of integrity

A.P.J. Abdul Kalam

I was a schoolboy then. Those days we did not have electricity and we used to study under rationed kerosene lamps. I was reading my lessons loudly and I heard a knock on the door. We never locked doors in Rameswaram in those days, and someone opened the door, walked in and asked me where my father was.

I told him that father had gone for his evening namaz. "I have brought something for him, can I keep it here?" he said. Since my father had gone for namaz, I shouted to my mother to get her permission to accept the gift. There was no response from her because she was also doing namaz.

So I asked the person to leave it on the cot and continued to read aloud my lessons. When my father came in, he saw a tambalum (brass tray) on the cot. He asked me: "What is this? Who has given it.

" I told him the fact. He uncovered the tray and found a costly dhoti, angavastram (a shoulder wrap), fruit, sweets and a note from the person who had just left. That was the first time I got a beating from him. I was his youngest child and he really loved me, but he was very upset.

I had never seen him get so angry. I was scared and started weeping. My mother embraced and consoled me. Then my father also came and patted my shoulder affectionately, saying, "Never accept any gift without my permission."

He quoted an Islamic Hadith, "When the Almighty appoints a person to a position, He provides for him. If a person takes anything beyond that, it is an illegal gain." Taking gifts, he told me, is a bad habit. A gift is always accompanied by some motive, so it is a dangerous thing. It is like touching a snake and being stung by its poison.

This lesson always stands out in my mind, even now when I am in my seventies. It's a lesson one also finds in Manu Smriti: "By accepting gifts the divine light in the person gets extinguished." Manu warns every individual against accepting gifts.

His reason: it places the gift-taker under an obligation to the person who gave the gift and ultimately results in coercing a person to do unlawful things. I share this thought with all of you because no one should get carried away by a gift which comes with a purpose and through which one loses his personality greatly.

The second example is the advice given to Mahatma Gandhi by his mother. Gandhiji's mother advised him:

"Son, in your entire lifetime if you can save or better someone's life, your birth as a human being and your life is a success. You have the blessings of the Almighty God." This attitude of bettering someone's life is an important message for every one of us.

The third is a story from the life of a great saint, Sheikh Abdul Qadir Al-Gilani, which happened about 1,000 years ago. One day, the child Abdul Qadir heard a cow saying, "What are you doing here in the grazing fields, it is not for this you have been created." Terrified, he ran back to his house and climbed on to the roof. From there he saw a large crowd of hajis returning from Mount Arafat, thousands of miles away.

Abdul Qadir then went to his mother to ask her permission to make a journey to Baghdad in pursuit of knowledge. His mother understood the divine call and promptly permitted him to go. She gave him 40 gold coins which was his share of inheritance from his father.

She stitched the gold coins inside the lining of his coat and bidding him farewell said: "Oh, my son! You are going! I have detached myself from you for the sake of Allah, knowing that I shall not see your face again until the day of last judgement. But take one advice from me. My son, you should always feel the truth, speak the truth and propagate the truth even when your life is at stake."

Abdul Qadir travelled with a small caravan heading for Baghdad. During the journey, when the caravan was passing through a touch terrain, robbers on horses suddenly attacked the caravan and started looting. None of them took the slightest notice of Abdul Qadir, until one of the looters turned to him and said.

"You there, poor boy! Do you have anything with you?" Abdul Qadir replied, "I have got 40 gold coins which are stitched by my mother in the lining of my coat under my armpit." The looter smiled, he thought Abdul Qadir was joking.

He left him alone and moved elsewhere. But the robbers took him to their leader, saying: "This poor boy claims that he is in possession of 40 gold coins. We looted everybody but we have not touched him because we hardly believed that he has got gold coins with him.

" The leader put the same question to Abdul Qadir and received the same reply. Then the leader ripped his coat and discovered that he indeed had 40 gold coins hidden inside the lining of his coat.

The astonished leader asked Abdul Qadir what prompted him to make this confession? Abdul Qadir replied: "My mother made me promise to always be truthful even at the cost of my life. Here, it was a matter of only 40 gold coins. I promised to never betray her trust, so I told the truth".

The looters started weeping and said, "You have adhered to the advice of your great mother but we have been betraying the trust of our parents and the covenant of our Creator for many years.

From now onwards, you will be our leader in our repentance." From that moment, they gave up robbery and became righteous persons.

Thus the world saw the birth of a great saint, Sheikh Abdul Qadir Al-Gilani, out of a message of truth a mother gave to her child. These three events highlight how moral values, can be built among citizens, particularly youth.

Courtesy: Outlook

Excerpts from an article by Former President of India, A.P.J. Abdul Kalam to the special edition of the magazine at the 60th Independence Day of India.