THE LONELY RAPTURE

(Excerpt from a novel in preparation)

It was on the third night that Mudiyanse crept through coffee and cocoa plants and the entwining pepper vines towards his father's house. He took this circuitous route through an Englishman's estate in order to avoid notice the village folk. He could have reached his father's home through the village roads and by cutting across paddy fields, but the sight of him in the distance by a single villager would have been enough to rouse the whole village. The system of communication though still not sophisticated was quite efficient in its swiftness. The route through the Englishman's estate was a safe one. The thick foliage of the coffee and cocoa plants at ground level and the tall rubber trees above them was enough to cast a perpetual darkness even on a bright sunny day. Except to pick the falling branches of rubber trees for firewood, the villagers avoided this estate, especially during the evening hours when one could hear the peculiar yowling sounds of hyenas. Further, the Englishman was very strict on security measures in the estate. He employed a few men who were always on guard duty, armed with guns, to prevent the intrusion of villagers. There were thefts too on this estate. A pepper vine that took some years to entwine itself on a large tree and to mature was sometimes wantonly cut at the roots and drawn away, berries and all, or if it was the coffee picking season the thief would operate by night, sometimes taking away bean laden branches.

Mudiyanse remembered how some years ago he was also caught on the estate by the guards. He had been searching for herbs to make a decoction for his father who had been suffering with fever. He had to collect the bark of the murunga tree, and three kinds of leaves which were to be boiled with ginger and coriander. He had already found the bark and two kinds of leaves, but the third he could not. He walked in the shade of the noon day sun a bundle of herbs in his hands, the thick dried leaves lying underfoot making a rustling sound magnified by the silence.

Suddenly from behind a large rubber tree appeared the watchers of the estate. Mudiyanse could not escape. They abused him and having assaulted him took him before the Englishman. This man had built himself a large bungalow on the crest of a hill overlooking the Mahaweli. From here you could see the river flowing into the distant valley of Lewella, and hear the sound of the waters changing from season to season according to the rains that poured down the hill-sides. Sometimes one would hear the ceaseless roar of the water carrying with it the debris of the hillsides, or on other occasions one would hear the soothing sounds of water over the dry rock river bed.

In the years he had spent in Ceylon he had cultivated a taste for fine things. His furniture was antique dating back to the Dutch period of a century and half ago. His large drawing room was adorned with a Dutch writing table and a burgomaster chair at one end, while the walls were lined with bookshelves and cupboards that had gable shaped tops made of heavy teak and ebony. The books were a mix of high classical literature as well as highly prized books on Ceylon, most of them first editions. Whether this man ever read them, one wondered. But the blue and white Dutch plates with the VOC insignia printed on them adorning the walls, as well as old prints of ancient maps of Ceylon framed in exquisite gilt frames added an aura of elegance to this house. To complete the atmosphere of the Colonial empire was a set of Indian servants dressed in white cloth and coat with gold buttons and wearing a turban, posted at different points, ready to serve the white English master.

The house had a large verandah running round it on which the Englishman would sit and view his domain. When Mudiyanse was brought up the steep road to the garden of the bungalow, the Englishman was seated at a round heavily carved ebony table having his tea from a silver service. The chair on which he sat was of Indo-Portuguese origin, a piece of furniture only seen in a museum. So was all his furniture. He wore a white short sleeved shirt and khaki shorts, brown shoes polished and shining, showing no traces of his morning walk through his estate, and by his side a riding whip, with which he drove his men to work. Years of hard work had brought him the fruits of his toil in many forms. His sons were able to attend the best schools in England and could live the life of aristocrats, which in other circumstances would have been denied them. His wife too lived in England and made occasional visits to the estate in Ceylon. For her the climate in Ceylon was exasperating and so were the people around her; the chanting from the village temple she heard at night made her feel frightened and lonely, and the distant drums and the accompanying horanewa made her feel even lonelier. (1)	horanewa - Wind instrument

The presence of her husband made no difference to her, for she had decided in her narrow alien mind that she would never be able to understand these natives. She could not possibly ask her husband to come back to England, for this would mean a descent from the upper rungs of English society, the plums of which she and her two sons enjoyed at the moment. Had he not ventured out to the colonies, back home in England her husband would have found himself either behind the counter of a store selling groceries and tobacco or behind a desk pushing a weary pen, bereft of any semblance of authority. Here, on this lonely estate, thousands of miles away from home, a single white man drove fear into the Sinhalese and Tamil men with an authority that only Imperialism could have conceived. Could the natives resist such power and authority? Unfortunately they were weak having had centuries of tyrannical Kings of their own, and now they weakly accepted their new masters.

The Anglican priest, an Englishman himself who visited the couple, tried hard to make her understand that life should be with her husband in this lonely country. He even tried to find an explanation from his narrow experience for the behaviour of the natives and the rituals connected to their religion and life. She was not an orthodox Christian herself yet she could find no explanation for her inability to concede. She thought all this life alien, and alien it was to her mind which had shut its doors to the understanding of another culture. Thus whenever confronted with the local inhabitants she looked upon them with suspicion. In spite of the fact that her husband's minor employees bowed low to her, she interpreted this as insincerity on their part and left no room for sympathy for those miserable villagers, nor would she condescend to have any communication. Thus she treated them, and even the others in the planters clubs, with utter disregard and contempt, making it difficult for her husband socially; had she continued in this manner for too long, she would surely have been ostracized not only by her own kind, and, even though she was too insensitive to have felt it, by the natives also who would have still smiled and shown respect, though shutting her out of their hearts. Her husband, on the other hand, had no choice but to live in this loneliness.

Mudiyanse stood with his captors wondering what punishment would be meted out to him. He had already been manhandled by his captors, pushed and dragged in the dust, and bruised and dishevelled he stood, frightened unto death. A hundred years ago he may have stood and quivered before the awesome Majesty of the last King of Kandy, Sri Wikrama Rajasinghe. The king would have looked down from his dais with his large penetrating eyes, and he would have squirmed like a worm before the king who had descended from the line of Suriya, the great Sun God. The splendour of the Kandyan Court with its wood carved doors and rock carved pillars, with the velvets and silks, and the Kandyan Chiefs in their regalia with their Korale Flags displayed, would have overwhelmed him. (2) Korale flags - Flags indicating the various districts during the time of the Kandyan Kingdom

With just a gesture of the King's hand his head would have rolled. Such was the fear that had overtaken Mudiyanse in this modern world drama.

The Englishman was reading a letter, a tea cup raised in one hand. This little group stood in the garden, the Englishman not having noticed them, too engrossed in his letter. The minutes passed; he read, he sipped his tea, re-read and was still unaware of their presence. After several minutes of reading he folded the letter, carefully running his fingers over the creases and then placing it in his shirt pocket, and finally looking up at the figures in his garden.

He asked: "What is the matter, Rathnayake?"

The two watchers pushed Mudiyanse forward and made a long complaint which went into details of the discovery of the intruder and his attempt at theft and how they had cleverly apprehended the thief in his act, and how if not for their continued loyalty to their white master, these black natives would devastate and ruin the white master's land, and how it was their undying loyalty which made them act in time to stop this pillaging. Unknown to Mudiyanse, these obsequious men were only echoing what the so-called English educated, western oriented, western attired (worsted 3 piece suit, tie and top-hat at 85&degreeF) political and administrative native leaders were whispering unto their white Gods at Whitehall for personal favours granted.

The Englishman stood up, very angry at this disturbance, the whip in his hand. He shouted in English at Mudiyanse; Mudiyanse of course could not understand this alien tongue. Rathnayake shook him and asked what he had in his hands.

"This is a medicine for fever. My appochchi is not well and I am searching for herbs to make some kasaya." (3) appochchi - Affectionate term for father (4) kasaya - Concoction

Rathnayake explained this to the Englishman, and the next thing Mudiyanse knew was that he was given a slap across his cheek by Rathnayake who told him the Sudu Mahathmaya was excusing him as a first offender and that he should not dare step into the estate ever again. (5) Sudu Mahathmaya - White Gentleman

It was already dark on the estate, darkness being accentuated by the thick foliage of the coffee and cocoa trees and the overhanging branches of the rubber trees. He saw the distant lights in the huts across the river. A few chulu lights were moving across the paddy fields. The sound of river water running over rocks came clear in the evening stillness. It had started to rain. Now that the rains had begun the river would soon be swollen and the village boys would wait on the banks for driftwood which they pulled out of the river. The rain waters flowed down the sides of the hills making it difficult for him to get a foothold. In some places his foot went deep into the slush. Rivulets of water flowed down to form greater masses of water, till they all went cascading with a tremendous force to form a forceful ela which in turn poured into the river below. (6) ela - Small Stream

His clothes were wet and he was feeling the cold running down his spine. Only his anger kept him going on in this unfriendly weather.
He remembered his mother but hazily. How he missed her all these years, and then to add to his misfortune he had to face the death of his father. He could not even remember his mother's funeral. She had just left their house and gone away. He only heard she was no more. Now he had been denied the right of seeing his father's corpse. They had even denied him any part in the obsequies. He had been away for so long, and not seen his father, yet they would not let him have even a glimpse. When he had approached the funeral the people had shooed him away. There were no flags or even the traditional gokkola to symbolise mourning.
"Pissa, pissa, madman", they had shouted at him as soon as he appeared They gave him no chance, they refused to recognize his right to take part in the funeral rituals They treated him like an intruder who was to blame for their own misconduct. He had no opportunity to protest for the whole atmosphere, the silence, the contemptuous looks of some and the cynical looks of others made such an idea completely out of place They had even chased him and he had to run down the hillside, crossing an ela and along the niyara, of his father's paddy fields, ploughed and waiting for the transplanting of the paddy, lands that should have been his.

By now night had set in and it was very dark. This was a time no one would venture out in fear of evil spirits. Thus it was certain Mudiyanse would not meet any of the villagers; tonight, Mudiyanse knew, the villagers would keep indoors, especially since a funeral had taken place only that very afternoon. Spirits were about and it would be safer to keep off the roads and the lonely places. His mind was now set on one task alone; he had left Panadura mainly because he was homesick and wanted to see his father. As he walked through the night towards his father's house he convinced himself that he was going to meet him.

"Appochchi, appochchi, I must see you, I must talk to you, I have have to talk to you, Appochchi, please speak to me;"

He repeated these words under his breath, calling out over and over again like a lost child. "Appochchi, appochchi"." He plodded on and did not need a chulu light to find his way, he was so familiar with the terrain. He came up to his father's land and watched. Everything was silent.

It was under a thambili tree that his father had been buried. He saw the mound of new earth, soft and red, even through the darkness, like a fresh open wound, the muddy waters trickling down its sides like a bleeding sore. He touched the mound. It was no more earth to him. It was a mass of blood and pus from a wound. The barking of dogs could be heard through the pelting rain. Someone, as though from another world beyond the grave, kept on in a thin voice: "Who's that; who's that?" -a voice that carried with it anxiety and a tremor of fear, with the dogs barking ceaselessly. He looked towards the house: he heard someone chanting the vessantara jataka, but the dogs continued to bark. He knew that no one would dare come to this part of the garden where the burial had taken place, not at this time of the night. He was happy that there was no one between him and his father. He sat by the mound, leaning against the thambili tree and spoke to his father in a soft voice, sobbing.

The next morning Mudiyanse was woken by a rude shock. A crowd had gathered round him as he lay asleep under the thambili tree. The rains had ceased and the sun gave warmth to his wet body. His eyes were red with fever; his hair was dishevelled and pieces of twigs and leaves were entangled in it; his face was unshaven. The villagers stood and watched from a distance. They stood in a close group through an unknown fear that kept them bound together. As Mudiyanse stirred, they backed away in fear. It was only Mudiyanse's uncle who dared speak to him. Even he would have opted to remain silent and uninvolved, but under the circumstances he was forced to speak as there was no other spokesman to act on Punchiamma's behalf. Further, wasn't Punchiamma his only sister. Thus he stepped forward and with a show of bravado, said, "Mudiyanse, what have you been doing, ah? Don't you know this is your father's burial place. Only those possessed of the devil would do such a thing;. you are mad, Mudiyanse, just mad, mad, mad, I knew it would happen to you also;. it must have been in the family; mad; mad."

The villagers did not speak a word. nor would they dare clear their throats. They stood by. silent, and agreed with the uncles words, still afraid lest Mudiyanse would see them agreeing to all that was being said. They stood staring in fear when they saw Mudiyanse covered in mud, and looking crazy, rising from where he lay. Mudiyanse for his part rose without the slightest regard for all those who stood around. With every move he made, the crowd reacted as a body, waiting to disperse and run in fear of the unknown evil force they beheld. Mudiyanse had had experience of similar behaviour before. He knew at this moment what the crowd wanted. They would have enjoyed had he broken loose like a wild boar and attacked someone. It was like the crowd that once watched mating serpents; while the reptiles coiled and uncoiled, wound and unwound in a fury, the villagers had stood with bated breath, with a mixed feeling of fear and amusement. Mudiyanse himself remembered the rabid monkey that had run amok and was finally tied to a pole. While the elders stood around and watched, the younger men and some children tortured and taunted the captive animal, baiting it, while it bared its teeth and bit at every stick that was pointed at it. They all enjoyed the amusement it provided, and amusement heightened by the uncertainty and fear lest the animal break loose. Mudiyanse would not be the butt end of their torture. He was too weary to dance before them. With eyes hot and blazing, and an expressionless vacant look he walked away from that place, while the crowd looked on stupefied, denied the luxury of a day's amusement in their monotonous lives. As he began to walk away Mudiyanse heard the beginnings of a whisper, that would in time avalanche into a furious sound of torture, floating towards him,

"The pissa,;.. the yakka;. the pissa;.. the pissa;.. the pissa;. "

The lands of his father were now cultivated by Punchiamma's brother and his family. Mudiyanse could not even visit his own home which was now dominated by Punchiamma and her brothers. He went from place to place and avoided the area surrounding his home. Usually he slept in the Pirith mandapaya of the village temple, and spent his day round the Kandy Lake watching the fish as they swam about unmolested in the waters of the lake. People would come in the evenings and feed the fish. He thought how fortunate are the fish who were not only protected but were even fed by the people. As time went on Mudiyanse became displaced from the village and began to act in an irresponsible manner.

The Chief priest of the village temple felt concern for him and used his good offices to send the Ishcol mahathmaya, the school master. on a mission of mercy to Punchiamma and her brothers. Thus was secured permission for Mudiyanse to build a house of his own on his father's land. Under normal circumstances Punchiamma and her brothers would never have tolerated the idea of Mudiyanse as a neighbour. But they could not have refused the much respected Ishcol mahatmaya, who for his part knew the extent of the rights that were denied Mudiyanse and the injustice perpetrated. Thus he was given permission to build a house on a vacant plot of land. He could have built a comfortable home according to the traditional style, but then who would help him. He was surrounded by relations who would deny him even an ekel. If on the other hand he had been accepted, the relations would have all joined in and worked together. They would have cut the timber, beaten the clay and made the bricks themselves while the women would have woven the coconut fronds into cadjans with which the men would have thatched the roof. Even if an individual relative happened to sympathise with Mudiyanse and his lot, still such a generous relative would not have dared to make his feelings public; for were not Punchiamma and her brothers a set of trouble makers in the village? Thus there may have been sympathizers, but in the tradition of weak human beings without a strong backing for their convictions there was no opportunity for any positive action. Mudiyanse had to be content with a "wadiya" made of mud and wattle, with a few cadjans thrown over for a roof. There was no protection against the elements and Mudiyanse suffered the position of a migrant, for a wadiya was generally accepted as only a temporary lodging for a farmer to keep watch over his harvest. From his wadiya he had a view of his father's grave and also the paddy fields which his father had tended over the years. He would sit and watch the fields and every time he saw someone working the paddy fields, he would become restive, for he had seen his father working these lands with his bare hands. Every grain of earth he believed had passed through his father's hands, so thorough was his work. These fields were holy ground, for who else could cultivate as efficiently as his father, treating the whole work as a sacred ritual. Thus the ploughing, levelling, transplanting, weeding and finally harvesting of these fields was a time of trial for Mudiyanse and his relations who now worked in the land.

"You have taken my lands," he would cry,

"You buried appochchi so that you could take his properties. Don't forget, you dogs, don't forget, I am still here, I am the heir to my father, I am the rightful owner of these lands"."

On some occasions Mudiyanse would grow calm. For instance, during the transplanting season he would watch the women from the neighbourhood clad in colourful clothes, standing knee deep in mud, bent over their work. He was soothed by this sight. Yet he dared not show himself to the women fearing they would panic, and so he kept himself hidden.

On one occasion he saw a flash of colour moving along the niyara, he guessed it must be one of the women from the Arachchi Mahatmayas household. In order to get a better view of the woman he slid down from his perch and in doing so fell with a loud crash onto a dry jak branch. The crackling sound of dry leaves exaggerated itself into a loud explosion in the stillness, startling the woman who screamed and ran missing her step, falling several times and grazing her knees. Mudiyanse watched her, amused, seated among the dry twigs and leaves. He should have kept silent, but he laughed aloud in a maniacal manner, uncontrollably, so that people living a good distance away heard him and now began to interpret his laugh as one that was the result of consorting with evil spirits.

This was the beginning of his notoriety in the village. The womenfolk avoided him on the footpaths. It was rumoured that he had chased a few women in his insanity, his intentions being wild and dangerous. The men too now believed in the village gossip. What was at the inception a rumour, repeated many times by many mouths and exaggerated in the process, ultimately began to be accepted as the truth. The men too avoided Mudiyanse, and some even kept awake at night in case the mad man attacked their womenfolk. Even the children left on the dry rocks of the river bed while the women bathed and washed clothes, screamed with fear whenever Mudiyanse approached. Soon there were more rumours, some the work of a wild imagination. Mudiyanse was a dangerous one to contend with.

Some villagers swore Mudiyanse was seen mating with an animal or was it a reptile, they were not sure. The more fearsome the stories the more readily acceptable were they to the easily susceptible mind. Some even called him "kimbula", and others called him "balla", crocodile and dog. But the centre of all the rumour was the controversy about his sexual prowess. While the men folk felt challenged the women folk secretly longed for such sexual abilities in their own men.

Mudiyanse had no peace whatsoever. Wherever he went he had trouble. People accused him of creating trouble by his presence, even though he was the butt end of all the taunts and torments. The only escape he had was when he sat by the Kandy Lake watching the large fish come up, making gurgling sounds, and picking the "porri" the children dropped. He would sit there for hours undisturbed, completely at peace.
NOTES (7)	niyara 	-	Elevated ridge in paddyfield (8)	Thambili tree 	-	King Coconut tree (9)	Vessantara Jataka 	-	Story of King Vessantara (10)	Punchi Amma 	-	Mother's younger Sister (11)	Pirith mandapaya	-	Structure for delivering Buddhist Sermons (12)	Ishcol mahathmaya 	-	Schoolteacher (13)	wadiya 	-	Hut
