The ill-fated child

D P L W Silva

One morning, Thelis, the tree climber, had an unexpected visitor at home. He was Ven Seelaratana. He had come to the village after an absence of nearly nine years. His periodic visits here had been to see his people and old friends. This time too it was for the same reason.

The venerable monk was born here and ordained in the village temple. He was highly respected by the villagers.

Every time he came he never failed to see improvident Thelis, his inseparable friend in the happy days of his boyhood prior to ordination.

Thelis and family received him with customary reverence. He sat on the shaky, white clothed chair offered to him. He looked around and noted sadly that Thelis had made no progress in life. His cadjan thatched wattle and daub house with its cow dung mixed mud floor was just the same he saw years ago. There was however, an addition to the family.

”I see you have a son”, he said freezing his eyes on ten year old Pintheris. Pintheris smiled. “But he is no use hamuduruwane, hatarakendare palu (blank horoscope) akek (fellow). It had always been bad luck for me from the day he was born”, said Thelis despondently.

The monk understood him. Such ill-fated children are separated from their families. He wondered why Thelis did not do it. After partaking of the hot Koththamalli gilampsa (refreshment) offered he volunteered to help him. “If you have plans to separate him, I shall take him over”, he said sympathetically. Thelis was intantly relieved. “Merit to you Hamuduruwane, take him away”, was his urgent plea.

The monk looked at half-clothed Pintheris again. It was wrong to take away an unwilling child. So he asked him whether he was prepared to come with him and he agreed. “Then, I shall be back tomorrow morning by 6 a.m. Be ready”, he said and left. As he walked out he thought the boy would make a fine monk.

After he had departed Thelis addressed his son sternly. “You are lucky. Only a few children of your age get a chance to serve a monk. Pack your thing now and don’t come back”. Pintheris did not speak. He was facing reality now. He regretted he consented to go with the monk. While his mother packed his clothes into a pillow case he stood by dismally. Then reluctantly added his dog-eared books and some baubles.

The monk was punctual next day. Pintheris with pillow case in hand followed him with a long face. Mother and sisters softly but father secretly enjoyed his departure.

In the afternoon they reached the temple located in the outskirts of Colombo. It was a long, tedious journey from the depths of Matara. Pintheris found the place very much like theirs back home but more prosperous looking, very quiet and absolutely lonely.

The monk introduced him to the others and they all looked him over curiously. In baggy clothes and hair overgrown, he appeared a veddha boy. The monks with kind courtesy led him to the back of their quarters. He was shown his room, the well and toilet and his food on the table.

So began his temple life. He soon found the cloistered existence intensely boring. When at home, to overcome such dreary moments or his father’s constant wrath, he found solace in the company of his friends, or in the wilderness around. But in here there was nothing of the sorts, no friends, no wilderness. He silently suffered the misery while his will to stay on slowly crumbled. An year and half passed. Though he was not aware of the time-lag, he felt he had lived here an eternity. He could no longer endure the sickening monotony of life here.

One day he approached the monk who was seated in the arm-chair with eyes half closed in meditation. The aura of mystic calm and the fragrance of sandlewood which emanated from him pervaded the air around. Pintheris looked at him with awe. Then addressed him timidly. “I want to go home, lokuhamuduruwane.” The monk heard his voice like a call from far off. The request was justified. In fact he was expecting it. “Yes Pintheris, why not? We should go”, he assured him calmly. Pintheris was not happy. Not long after, one morning he summoned Pintheris. He was aware of his obligation. Pintheris noted the glitter in his face. He was hopeful. “We are going home tomorrow. Get ready by 6 a.m.” he told him with a smile. Pintheris was delighted. He could not remember a happier day in his life.

Next morning dressed in crumpled clothes and hair cut short, Pintheris waited for the monk. He came out and Pintheris followed him happily. Just as the monk placed his right foot on the gravel a kerala (woodpecker) cried. It was a loud eerie shriek. The monk stood dead still. Then said with a wry face, “Pintheris we cannot go today. No one start a journey when a kerala cries,” Pintheris, dropped to the floor and wept.

Ten days after the interrupted journey was resumed. This time with glum indifference he followed the monk. He was doubtful and afraid. What if a kerala cried again, he thought.

The monk who had been observing him, asked, “You look worried Pintheris. Is anything wrong”. “I am uncertain hamuduruwane”, he answered curtly. The monk did not speak. Even to him Pintheris at times was inscrutable, wayward.

Overcoming his fears they reached the village in the afternoon safely. The monk handed him over saying he would be back in three days.

Pintheris was thrilled to be home. Mother and sisters received him with love. Father who, as usual, was lazing on the verandah bed stared hard at him. The pillow case i his hand caught his eye. “It appears to me you have come to stay”, he said harshly and Pintheris turning suddenly bold, said, “Yes”. Thelis was furious. “If you don’t go when he comes I will kill you”, he bawled getting up and adjusting his threadbare sarong threateningly. His mother at once shielded him. Pintheris slipped out of the house. He sat, sad and dispirited under the goraka tree. He was the cast aside, ill-fated boy. He could not understand it all.

He would not go to the temple. That life was not meant for him. He could not stay at home either. Father did not want him. There was nothing else he could do except to escape.

The dawn of the crucial third day, the day the monk was due, saw Pintheris missing. He trecked into nowhere, never to return. He did not know where he was going, for what or to whom.