Stranded

Sripathy Jayamaha

The rain was coming down in torrents. Ten thirty in the night. My friend and I were on a deserted shortcut between Moneragala and Wellawaya, driving an old jeep. The unthinkable happened. The good old jeep shuddered to a stop. Neither of us were familiar with diesel engines.

The rain abated. We could see some electric lights in the distance. At least we were with our kind, not the trumpeting and the slithering kind. We were scared. We took our rather heavy suitcases and walked towards the lights. The bags contained some very expensive electronic equipment. We also had about three lakhs in cash. We wlked towards a large house through an unlocked gate. We heard the barkings of dogs. They stopped abruptly and ran towards two persons who came up to us, with torches and clubs.

“We saw your headlights. When they went out we knew that there was a breakdown, and were expecting you. Come, you are wet. Let's go into the house.”

We went in. There were six persons, clad in beautifully embroidered T shirts. The design looked like a katty and a spade. Four were sharpening large knives on wet stones. Absolute silence, but for whir from the grinding stones. They kept on staring at us. It was eerie, very eerie. I thanked them. One of the persons who brought us in, spoke. He said that this always happens.

“Rich people, picnic crowds, pilgrims in cars, buses and jeeps have often come here. Yes! They come, but when they go...” He stopped, looked at the others. They nodded with smiles.

“You can stay here till daybreak. Your clothes are wet and you look hungry. What are in those bags? Are they valuable? Can we leave them in the verandah?”

“Yes,” we said, they were valuable and expensive equipment. Smiles from all over.

“Can these equipment forewarn humans about earthquakes, landslides, cyclones. An early warning system?”

We told them that they were medical equipment.

He took us to the dining hall. A mouth-watering spread of hoppers, egg hoppers, lunumiris and curry.

“Please, the table is yours. Make us happy by partaking of what we have to offer you.”

We were hungry alright, but had lost our appetites. It was fear. Anyway, we enjoyed the repast while admiring their impeccable English.

“You can freshen up before retiring for the night. You can sleep upstairs. Anyway no one stays up there for long.”

“Yes,” thundered the others. “No one stays up there for long. Please leave your bags down stairs. Give us the vehicle keys, we will have to push it into the compound. No one should know that you have come here. Can you hear their voices, the trumpeting, the howls of the foxes, leopards and the squeaks of the porcupines and the bats, not the vampire types and werewolves. You know sirs, they have the beautiful gift of knowing beforehand the approach of natural calamities. They retreat to safe places. Not man. He goes with his domesticated felines and canines to the abyss.”

All were silent. They led us up to the stairs. “Please rest peacefully.”

All smiled. “Rest peacefully,” they shouted.

Every step up to the room was like climbing Pidurutalagala. There were two well-made beds, two sarongs and two towels.

“Did you hear him,” asked my friend.

“What?”

“He said rest peacefully. Are they not the words you people use when people are laid to rest?”

“Come to think of it, it is,” I stammered.

We put the money under the mattress. We kept on staring at the ceiling. Next we heard the creaking of stairs. Someone was coming up the stairs. We heard our friend's voice. “Sunil, do it properly, saw how you messed up everything. Hold the basket, don't let anything spill out. Now don't come down like last time and show your hands and say ‘Here's the smell of the juice, all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand and, I have stopped sleep.”

I whispered to my friend. “These chaps are educated. He quoted from Shakespeare's ‘Macbeth'.”

Someone was there with a katty and a basket. We closed our eyes and prayed.

We saw the intruder pull a chair. May be a stool. Our eyes were bleary to distinguish whether it was a stool or chair. He got on to it and deftly cut a comb of bananas from a large inflorescence that was tied to a rope from the ceiling, just

above my friend's bed. Next he tied the basket at the bottom of the bunch, replaced the stool or chair and quietly went down. We fell asleep. Sweet comforting sleep just like the sleep the ancient mariner had experienced after killing the albatross in S T Coleridge's poem.

Just before daybreak we were awakened by some sounds. They were pushing our vehicle, into the porch. What took them so long? Did they use our jeep for murder and plunder. The dogs were barking. There was a lot of activity in the garden. It was 5 am. Anyway, we were in one piece. Not in blood soaked baskets. Our friend was with us. He said that they had to attend to their daily chores early.

We went down. Had a wash and went to our room. Our clothes were on our beds, beautifully ironed. Breakfast surpassed the night snack. String hoppers, pittu, seeni sambal, kiribath and many other trimmings that go with them. Our friend sat with us. Someone brought a lovely comb of kolikuttus. My friend nudged me with his foot. Our friend called out a few names. Two young girls, a boy and a pleasant looking lady walked in. “My family,” he said. He introduced us to his brother and his family. “Hope Sunil didn't scare you when he cut the kolikuttus. A messy character. We make T shirts for export. Men cultivate. We live with our spouses and children.

We inquired about a mechanic. He smiled. “We repaired it on the drive way so as not to disturb you.”

We thanked them and walked up to the jeep. It was loaded with jak, breadfruit, ladies fingers and green chillies. We were about to leave. “Sirs, we do not charge anything for board and breakfast.”

With a smile he gave us the sachet with our money. Unbelievable!

“Your bags are loaded. A pity that man has still not been able to invent machines to predict natural disasters.”

We left.

We drove off silently. There was a note. “Hope we did not scare you much. You should have a story to tell your families. It sounds more like a ghost story, don't you think? Forgive us for any lapses. Do come again.”

We laughed. Yes, what an amusing story about good ghosts helping stranded humans.

Epilogue

Two years later, we were on our way to see our wonderful hosts. We came to the spot. No house, no garden, no gates. No boundary wall. The place was a miniature jungle. Shocked to the core, we drove on. There was a cluster of small houses about 10 kilometres from the site. We inquired. They called a very elderly person. “Let Aron aiya tell you a story.”

“Oh those people. Such wonderful human beings. Long years back, there was a massive earth tremor, mud slides, rain and wind. They were all washed away. No one had seen or heard of them since then.” He looked at our baggage of vegetables. Smiled. “These are all from our chenas. You know those beautiful people always make it a point to leave about four times the value of the produce on my doorstep. I divide the money according to what had been taken from each cultivator. This happens often. No one talks about it.”

We left, carrying unforgettable experiences. Experiences that we could not explain. Except that we were among some of the most gracious ghosts, who were much more human than their human counterparts.