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SPECIAL
Wise traditions:
Under the erabadu tree
Aditha DISSANAYAKE
Sunshine and showers, laughter and presents,
for most of us the best days of our lives fall in the middle of April
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Playing Rabana, one of the major
Avurudu games. Pictures by Saman Sri Wedage |
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Avurudu marks the movement of the sun
from Meena Rashi to Mesha Rashi |
The long, red petals of Erabadu, like the painted nails of a diva,
are open in majestic glory, the kaju and jambu trees are heavy with
fruits, the cry of the Koha dominates the chatter of squirrels. Damsels
dressed in traditional attire appear on TV or stand behind the cash
registers in supermarkets.
Flashback to April, 1904. A few days before the New Year the village
potter brought “a pingo load of clay pots and pans to each of the three
or four leading families in the village. On New Year’s day as the
auspicious time drew near the members of the family “sat on reed mats,
round a white cloth spread on the floor of the hall. The servants, male
and female, knelt on the floor beside them. Each had his serving of milk
rice on a square of singed plantain leaf, placed before him on the white
cloth. When the auspicious moment arrived they all started to eat.”
Thus writes Martin Wickramasinghe in Gamperaliya (the extract is from
the English translation titled Uprooted) describing the Sinhala Hindu
New Year customs in the South during the early 20th century. One wonders
if things were the same during this time of the year in other parts of
the country as well. Not quite. According to award winning author and
anthropologist, Gunasekara Gunasoma, New Year preparations in the
Eastern province during the same era had begun from as early as February
when the best vegetables in the Chena like the largest pumpkin and the
best brinjals were kept aside until the arrival of the new year. The
women folk in the five villages which make up the cluster called Panam
Pattuwa got together and went in search of clay to make clay pots for
the New Year.
As houses were made of mud and wattle in the days of yore the
villagers had gone in search of the clay to apply on the floor before
the New Year took place in early March. Special stacks of firewood too
were collected and stored to be used during the New Year. Unlike in the
South the villagers here did not observe specific auspicious times on
the day of the New Year. To them the entire day was auspicious. On New
Years day when the women got up early in the morning and made their way
to the well, they sprinkled a handful of flowers on the water,
worshipped the well three times and worshipped the earth three times
before drawing the first bucket of water. When they filled the kettle to
boil the water, they had filled it to the brim unlike on other days when
only the necessary amount of water was put into the kettle. All the
kitchen utensils were washed and stacked in one corner of the kitchen
and covered by a white cloth; on this day they were given a well-earned
rest.
Swings
The most popular places in the village during April were the trees
which had massive swings hanging from their boughs. The swings in Panam
Pattuwa were different from the swings seen in the other parts of the
country, recalls Gunasoma. They were wide enough to carry at least four
or five adults at a time and were hung on the branches of a tree with
leather straps. After finishing their daily chores the women would
gather at the swing as the sunlight faded from the sky, and take turns
to sway too and fro to the rhythm of the Onchili Waram, till the early
hours of the morning.
The women also spend many an enjoyable hour playing age old rhymes
like “Dontha Babakkata Denna Deyak Natha...” on the raban. They turn
even the rice to make sweetmeats into enjoyable events by bringing the
pestles and the mortars into one house and taking turns to pound the
rice. Soon the time comes to watch the white mixtures of flour turn into
delicious kevum and kokis making one recall Sybil Wettasinghe’s lines
“Handa Natai, Koora Natai, Kevim Gediya Thele Natai...” (if I remember
right).
In the past, these sweetmeats were made using the rice from the newly
harvested paddy fields. According to the writer and journalist
Thimbiriyagama Bandara, before the New Year celebrations our ancestors
had observed the harvest festival (Aluth Sahal Mangallaya). It was only
after the newly harvested rice was offered to the deity, to the priests
at the temple, and distributed among the neighbours that the rice was
used for making sweetmeats for the New Year. “The New Year, therefore,
is a celebration of joy after the harvest is reaped”, observes Bandara.
In harmony with nature
April is undoubtedly the most beautiful month of the year and
therefore the best time to pay homage to the natural elements; the sun,
the moon and the rain gods. No wonder that in the past the farmers who
had lived in harmony with mother nature, who had not intentionally
killed insects or weeds but used nature friendly ways to overcome the
natural obstacles that lay in their path when it came to cultivating the
land should have celebrated the beginning of a New Year in April.
But today the traditional methods of farming are no more. As a result
of the large scale farms now in existence, which are solely operated
with the aim of maximizing the harvest and thereby gaining the highest
monetary profits, nature has been vandalized. And so, observing New Year
customs seems a hypocritical act. “How can we eat kiribath at an
auspicious time when we know we grew the rice by killing insects and
plants of Mother Nature?” questions Bandara. He suggests we pay more
attention to nature-friendly methods of farming, love nature more than
we do right now if we are to celebrate the New Year the way it ought to
be celebrated.
It is not too late yet to find some cowries and an old coconut shell
to begin playing that ancient game of chance called Panchi or to throw a
rope over a rafter in the roof to make a swing and to wonder if they too
have symbolic meanings attached to them. Yes, as with almost everything
associated with the New Year, according to Prof. Vinnie Vitharana the
cowrie is a symbol of procreation; the swing represents the sun, which
also swings from the east to the west, and the hearth, which is lit at
an auspicious time, by the woman of the house, facing a prescribed
direction, symbolizes the centre of life and nourishment in the
household.
Fast forward to the present. We may not be farmers, we may not
interact with Mother Nature in the same way our ancestors did, but we
cannot deny the spirit of spring. It is still with us. It is still there
in the warmth of the early morning sun, in the azure skies, in the
orchestra of the birds, and in the dew drops on a petal of jasmine. It
is there, in the air. Let it enter your heart. A New Year. A new you.
May you be healthy and happy in the year ahead.
Nature’s messengers!
Ruwini Jayawardana
The call of the koel and the red robed erabadu blossoms are cues that
the Sinhala and Tamil New Year is around the corner. A time of spreading
the message of unity and joy, the Avurudu season is a much looked
forward to event in the country.
Koha
The koha aka Asian Koel or cuckoo heralds the season with its
melodious call. Though many believe that the bird migrates to the island
to bring the Avurudu message to our home, the cuckoo is found in Sri
Lanka all year round. Most of these birds have entered the island to
settle down from Singapore but the cuckoo resides in India, South China
and Australasia.
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Erabadu
flowers |
The male cuckoo’s call actually signifies its need to find a mate.
The cuckoo’s breeding season is in April and coincides with the Avurudu
festivities. This black, red-eyed bird pursues a spotted brownish bird
which is called the thith koha. This is not another cuckoo species but
the female Asian
Koel
The cuckoo also uses its call as a ploy to distract the crow.
Generally known for its bad nestling habits and cuckoo is even nicknamed
a brood parasite by ornithologists.
Though generally everyone welcomes the cuckoo’s call, the crow
utterly dislikes it. The musical call of the cuckoo is lost on the crow.
It flies away leaving room for the female cuckoo to lay its eggs in
the crow’s nest! It is not till the eggs hatch and the chicks are older
that the crow notes the difference and chases the young cuckoo out of
its nest.
By then the young cuckoo had made maximum use of the crow’s charity
by gobbling up a large part of the food it had reserved of its young
ones.
This trick had been noted by writers and poets for they have made use
of the bird’s mischievous deed in their work. In the Kokila Sandeshaya
the poet had made it a moral point of this fact in nourishing oneself by
using alien cultures.
Some myths link the koel with the weather. People say that the koel’s
call brings rain.
The bird is dubbed the ‘nightingale’ in India because its cry is
sweet to our ears. Like the crow the cuckoo eats whatever it comes by
but mostly it feeds on fruits.
Erabadu
Scientifically named Erithrina indica, the scarlet erabadu is also
commonly known as the Indian Coral tree in other parts of the globe.
The tree is considered as tropical to Asia. According to biologists
edabadu comes in two species.
The Yak Erabadu is also found in Northern India, high up in the
Himalayas, and countries like the Java islands, Tahiti, Samoa, Myanmar
and Malacca.
The crimson shaded erabadu bedecked with black seeds is a common
sight in most of the remote villages of the country in April.
The large tree is mostly used as fences to separate houses from the
road.
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Cuckoo bird |
Though they show signs of blossoming in early March, the flowers
remain in bloom till the end of May, scattering their fragrance and
colourful petals as you make your way below the boughs of the trees.
An interesting fact in connection with the erabadu flower is that one
petal among the many which forms a circle to join at the stem is
slightly larger than the others. Flowers burst out of woody stalks at
the end of firm branches.
Apart from its vibrant colours and beauty, the plant is considered
for its medicinal value.
The young tender leaves are used in curries as well as to make a
delicious mallum, quite a favourite among those in the rural villages.
The leaves and bark of the tree are also used in Ayurvedic medicine
as they believe that it holds the power to purify blood and holds the
power to ease the venom out of snake bites. The flowers and leaves are
also recognized as an effective pesticide.
Our ancestors also clung to the belief that the erabadu tree wards
off diseases, thus making it an essential component in their gardens
much like today’s ginger or kohomba tree.
The erabadu tree was regarded as an omen of festivity in the North.
Known as Mullu Murukku in Jaffna, a branch from the tree is planted
before an auspicious time in a ceremony.
Sadly today in most areas of the island these trees have been
substituted by concrete-poled barbed wire fences. Walls made of brick
and stone have replaced tree-lined fences.
In a couple of years to come, who knows, would the future generation
be deprived of setting their eyes on these crimson beauties? Would a day
come when we will have to describe the beauty of the harbinger of
festivity and show pictures of the flower to our children as the tree
would be no more in years to come? |
