The secret wish
Dr Asantha ATTANAYAKA
We went to the Dalada Maligawa for a gilanpasa pooja. One of our
close friends was sick and her parents and close relatives have
organized the pooja for her. Another very good friend and I were invited
for the occasion too.
Since the pooja involved going into the inner chamber where the
sacred tooth relic was placed, that required special permission, the
number of close ones were limited to twelve. The other friend came with
her small son who was about 10 years old. My mother and father also
joined.
Early morning of the day of the pooja, we received a phone call from
the sister of our sick friend.
“We are going to offer ata pirikara to the tooth relic. Why don’t you
also buy ata pirikara so that you could offer them in the inner chamber
of the relic itself?”
It was a very good idea and my mother and father would feel happy if
they could do that. So I decided to buy two ata pirikara for them.
But then it was a public holiday and all the shops would be closed.
My mother said we could very well get them from our village temple.
Of course we could give money as bara pena.
My father made inquires and they were available.
Then I rang up the other friend who was to join this pooja, whether
she also wanted to offer an ata pirikara to the sacred tooth relic. She
happily said yes, and not for her but for her youngest son.
“He is passing a malefic period, so it would be better if he could
offer one.”
We again turned to our chief monk and asked if he could give us
another ata pirikara. Since ours was a small village temple, he wasn’t
sure whether he could give three ata pirikara at once.
“Let me check whether we have three.”
We were sad. Suppose he didn’t have another in store? Where to buy from?
We waited. After a while he said he could give three.
We were happy.
So we went for the pooja. On the side of the square in front of the
sacred tooth relic, we stood in a line. There were policemen on duty and
I noticed that they wore a special white uniform with a “Police Badge”
on the left side of the shirt. One came and gave us each a badge with a
number printed on it.
So we were ready and eagerly waiting to go in.
The Dalada thewava began. Our enthusiasm grew.
We were taken into the square into which the door of the inner
chamber opened. We waited there. We had the the ata pirikara in our
hands all this time. Our friend’s small son also was standing right next
to me with the ata pirikara.
First part of the thewava took about half an hour. Then the door of
the inner chamber opened. Those who stood near the door rushed in.
As we came to the door, it closed.
“Next you all can go. The chamber is full.” A policeman in the
special white uniform said.
So we had to go back and stand in a line again. And we waited.
Another fifteen to twenty minutes passed.
The small son of our friend held his ata pirikara in his hands. Just
like we all held ours.
Patient.
Pious.
We were again taken into the square in front of the chamber. This
time we were able to be closer to the door.
After a few minutes, the door opened.
Finally, we were in!
I wished for a speedy recovery of our sick friend. Also wished for my
own well being. And I placed the ata pirikara before the special casket
of the sacred tooth relic and worshipped.
So were the others.
We were blissfully happy.
As we came out we felt clam and blessed. After all, that hassle of
getting into the inner chamber was worth the course!
I was walking side by side with our other friend and her son. She
bent to her son while walking and asked something. In response, the
small one whispered something to his mother.
All of a sudden our friend stopped and burst out laughing.
I looked at them.
The little one looked surprised and then his expression changed. He
looked guilty.
“Do you know what this one has wished for while offering the ata
pirikara?”
Our friend looked at us and asked.
We waited. What in fact?
Now the little one wore an expression which could be described as a
mixture of both guilt and shyness.
He was silent for a moment before he opened his mouth.
“I have been asking Amma and Appachchi to get me one for a long time.
But they never seem to be doing it. So I wished for it.”
“What was it that you wished for?” I intervened.
His eyes lit up with innocent excitement when he replied.
“I wished for a dog.”
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