beyond the bindi and the vaetti

“Can you make it to Jaffna?” the 6 words sounded sweeter than Beethoven’s symphony in my ears. The possibility to make it by road sounded even more musical. Together with 4 other colleagues I jumped into cruise the A9 highway, eager to take in, feel, sniff at what lay beyond Vavuniya, the furthest I had stepped into the boundaries of this country. What I saw was somewhat close to my scattered images of military log cabins, palmyrah trees and acres of bare land with the roofless houses, schools and other buildings gracing the landscape. Looking at the skeletoned houses, gave me the creeps, my thoughts often wandering far beyond trying to imagine what life must have been before the roof, windows and doors disappeared. My colleague Uday originating from Kilinochchi had interesting revelations from his disturbed past and was in a constant chatter explaining what we saw outside. When we reach Vavuniya, he was quick to get off and go hunting for an iron mortar and pestle for his mom whom we will be seeing on route. While having lunch in a fancy restaurant (in Vavuniya standards), Uday appeared with the prized mortar and pestle, a food cover and a pack of chocolate cream biscuits. The drive after lunch was long but fascinating to my eyes that longed to always see the changing landscape. When we finally step down a woman (young for a mother) greets us flashing a 100 watt smile. The man standing beside her looks at us but he seemed lost and too distant to connect instantly. The son’s arrival along with what was wanted, was a reason for jubilation by both the woman and man. In sheer excitement at the thought of setting foot in Kilinochchi, I step down on some mud that seemed to have been formed from the recent rains. The woman is quick to lead me to the well in their backyard. She draws water and tilts the bucket to wash off the slithery toffee coloured mud until it dissolves and slips away. I cannot converse as comfortable as I want to with her, but I am eager to try my luck with my newly learnt Tamil phrases. ‘meththapp periya upaharam’ (thank you very much) I pronounce very proudly at the actual thought of being able to tell it to a native speaker. I try to create a sense of comfort between us and tell her “the first time I landed in Kilinochchi I stepped into mud” There’s a lot of giggling at my silly comment. The saying ‘languages bind people emotionally’ proves its worth at this moment when I spot the twinkling in her pretty black eyes. Still flashing her perfectly manicured sparkling teeth she gestures me for a cup of tea. I have to continue the flow with her. Carefully grafting the words I tell her ‘that it’s too much trouble’ and what I see is a well oiled head jerking twice swiftly from left to right, still retaining the same smile, but with a more concerned look she says, ‘no trouble at all’. Am I one delighted soul, my levels of Tamil comprehension has improved drastically. I can actually understand what was said. In a little concrete floor area not exceeding 2 sq ft with a world food programme stamped cover for a roof, watching her make tea on the little floor area, stirs my emotional chords vigorously making me to wonder how life could be so wretched for some. Soon I am sipping piping hot tea sitting on a clean floor, which looks as if it’s been licked. My eyes begin its expedition. On the other side there is what seems like a patch of land with overgrown trees. I try to visualise it during good times. Perhaps there were plots of brinjals, chillies, drumsticks that supplemented the family. The man, I notice observes us closely. It seems to me that periodically he comes down to the present but quickly reverts to the past and loses himself in transition. The woman complements me on my efforts to converse in Tamil and I feel pleased at the thought of it. “Where are you from?” she asks me and I tell her “Colombo”. She gives me a nod that symbolises “I thought so”. She takes a look at all of us and asks quizzically “Sinhala?” We acknowledge her guess. I tell her “No”. She looks at me, I lock my eyes in hers and tell her “human beings- that’s what we all are”. Contemplating for a while, she nods as if to acknowledge my off the beaten response. I take a last look at her beautiful smile and watch her wave till we drive out of sight. I couldn’t think of having dinner that night, this woman, the kitchen and the man continued to flash before my eyes. Her smile, her simplicity and hospitality just everything about her made me to be lost in deep thought. Each time she did appear in my conscience thereafter, I found my eyes evolving to be a running stream of tears dripping down my face. Unlike the mud on my sandals that were washed off I began to think what it would take to remove the ‘sludge’ off her life?