The Way it used to be .....
Dear friends:
Do you remember - Englebert and Tom Jones, the kadala
gotu & the isso wade, Alerics & Golden Gate, Yal Devi & the
Ruhunu Kumari, Tal Raa & Keerimalai Tank, Vel Cart & Sarasvati
Lodge, the queues at the CWE, the Suzettes & the Claudettes, the
Coconut Grove & Akasa Kadai. When arrack was available at Rs.8/= and
we could even buy a quarter bottle for Rs.2.50. For 35 cents we could eat
lunch at Mayfair or Lion House and still have 7.00 bucks left!!
The Way It Used To Be Child
The Way it used to be" - This is no Englebert love
song - it is a matter with much more meaning.
The gram sellers at Galle Face Green sold their 'kadala
gotu' topped with 'isso wade' for twenty-five cents.The moviegoers at
Savoy cinema came out; couples went to Aleric's for ice cream and families
miserly budgeted for Chinese fried rice at the
Golden Gate.
Gunawardena opened batting for Tamil Union and
Sunderalingam kept wickets for the Sinhalese Sports Club. This was once
nostalgic Sri Lanka on easy street sans the raging war and the terrible
turmoil; 'The way it used to be'.
The 'Yal Devi' took the Madhu pilgrims and the 'Ruhunu Kumari' carried the
Kataragama clan.
Marawila fishermen fished at Mulaitivu with the monsoon
change and Lever's and Reckitt & Coleman Sales Reps sold toothpaste in
Jaffna and drank 'Tal Raa' whilst bathing in the Keeramalai tank.
The Vel cart used to come down Wellawatta and the
waiters worked double time at the Sarasvati Lodge.
The differences were there from the North to the South,
but who cared? Nobody killed anyone. There was a life, simple and in
peace.
Bala Tampoe took the CMU out on strike every year and
the Parliament changed colours every five years with mythological
promises. That was acceptable. The queues got long at the CWE to buy
"Jumping Fish" or "Bombay Duck" and the bread prices
leapt like high jumpers. Those were our big problems.
The smiles were there too, affordable to the all and
sundry, beat shows and big matches, sports meets and school carnivals, all
within a ten-rupee budget. Fashion-wise, the pinnacle was the CR-Havies
match at Longden Place; the Suzettes and Claudettes were there, dazzling
in mini skirts, making their best attempts to get partnered to go to the
Coconut Grove and jingo and jive to the Jetliners.
Some made it to Akasa Kade too, to eat egg hoppers and
hold hands and become more naughty whilst pretending to be watching the
ship lights at the Colombo harbor.
There was peace; it was a long long time ago. That was
before the Morris Minor taxis changed their English alphabet number
plates.
Then came the carnage.
Who's to blame?
Don't waste time, that's kicking the moon and corralling
clouds. We all know better. We are all to be blamed, some for cheering and
others for their silence.
It has always been 'our soldiers' - but it is their war.
The guns are silent now and the talks go on and hope
seeps slow like a weed-clogged wave. If the Gods are kind, we'll have
peace. Let it lie there. North and East must be separate 'Don't give
this', 'can't have that', 'autonomy? What nonsense?' Such passionate
phrases bellow from borrowed patriotism. 'My son has to study', 'No no,
not to join the Air Force', 'Army? Are you mad?'
The same voices add to the contradictions. 'We must
continue to fight at any cost'. Brave words, quite cheap too when rights
and wrongs are just "whys" sprouting out from empty opinions on
even emptier forums.
Try telling all that to mothers who buried their sons or
to children who pray for their missing fathers. Voice it to a legless
'Boy' from Velvettiturai or a sightless soldier from Devundara. Or maybe
to a lover who lights a candle for some forgotten fighter buried under
swollen earth, too poor even for a memorial.
What does it matter to which side they belonged?
They paid the price, we didn't.
They shed the tears, we didn't.
Let us then wish, nay, that's not enough, let us pray,
to all the Gods in creation for "The way it used to be" to
return.
Or.... let us be silent.
We owe that much to those who died nameless.
The writer is the president of AFLAC (The Association
for Lighting a Candle) affectionately known as Pandang Karaya Club doing
yeoman service in helping deprived sections of society to improve their
condition.
