Enchantress
Lanka
A Collection of Poems about
the Pearl of the Indian Ocean
by
Devika Fernando
Copyright © 2018 Devika Fernando
All rights reserved
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What though the spice breezes
Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle;
Though every prospect pleases
And only man is vile.
(Reginald Heber)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A FOREWORD FROM THE AUTHOR
ENCHANTRESS
THE SEA
GEOMETRY
SERENDIB’S SERENADE
MYSTERIOUS MAIDENS
RETURN HOME
MONSOON HAPPENS
IN THE AFTERNOON
GOSSIP
JOURNEY
SHARPEN YOUR SENSES
PLEASE, SIR
SRI LANKA
RAIN SONG
IT’S A HARD LIFE
NAMO NAMO MATHA
TRADING TRADITIONS
WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
MULTI-FACED LANKA
ANIMALISM
WAR
BE WHO YOU ARE
MOTHERS
IT’S TIME
LION’S LAND
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A FOREWORD FROM THE AUTHOR
As the daughter of a Sri Lankan and a German, and as a woman who was born on this island in the Indian Ocean but spent the first 19 years of her life in Europe, I have always found this country intriguing. Often a mystery, sometimes a pain in the neck, and at other times too fascinating for its own good, it’s spoken to the poet in me, and I’ve finally decided to publish my thoughts.
Please bear in mind that these poems have been written over the course of nearly a decade and might address subjects that have now lost some of their blood-curdling relevance. Poetry, to me, is something intensely personal yet also something that speaks to all of us in its own way, and as such I am presenting Sri Lanka how I see it, how I live it.
I wish to dedicate this collection of poems to my husband, who taught me how to love a complicated, mesmerizing country that was never quite mine and never quite its own either.
ENCHANTRESS
Sinhala-dvipa smiled enchantingly
Her bays were wide and shallow
The Indians entered demandingly
Allowed the jungle to swallow
Roar of the lion, threateningly
Scream of natives, deafeningly
There was slaughter and love
Nature did take its fatal course
A nation was born to enchantress Sinhala-dvipa
Cilao smiled enchantingly
Her beaches were copper-tinted
The Portuguese entered demandingly
Thus the beauty was partly stinted
Smell of the spices, intriguingly
Fusion of cultures, ambiguously
There was domination and defeat
Marvels overcome by pure greed
A nation was born to enchantress Cilao
Ceilan smiled enchantingly
Her fruits abounded, delicious
The Dutch entered demandingly
Built mansions, forever ambitious
Song of the bird, forebodingly
Tears of the women, imploringly
There was mangling and mingling
Civilization hit without an inkling
A nation was born to enchantress Ceilan
Ceylon smiled enchantingly
Her location was strategically right
The British entered demandingly
Crashed in with their colonial might
The clinking of glasses, thrillingly
Groans of the workers, unwillingly
There was progress and poverty
Splendid years for an elite minority
A nation was born to enchantress Ceylon
Sri Lanka smiles enchantingly
Her sea and skies are oh-so blue
The Tourists enter demandingly
Money is needed, what else to do
Explosions of bombs, undeniably
But foreigners pour in so reliably
There is street food, flooding and fight
As this culture struggles toward the light
A nation was born to enchantress Sri Lanka
But it’s turning against its ancient mother
With a spell completely of its very own
Foreigners came, saw and conquered
Foreigners come, see, photograph and flee
Back then cultures were enriched, mostly
And traditions were stubbornly defended
Nowadays culture is fake, revived ghostly
And modernity’s damage has to be mended
A problem was born to this enchantress island
Serendib, Rathnadeepa – Island of the Gems
Thambapani, Taprobane – Copper Shores
Zeloan, Zeilan – preferably Seyllan, Ceilon
Sword, religion and language formed Ceylon
Pendant dangling from India’s slim earlobe
Tear drop trembling forever on Asia’s chin
Many-named and much-famed is our enchantress
Pearl of the Indian Ocean smiled too enchantingly
Thus more than a nation was born to this island
THE SEA
On Monday, I looked at the sea
And its appearance filled me with glee
It was an aquamarine silk cloth
Softly rippled by the mild breeze
Embroidered with sunshine sequins
On Tuesday, I looked at the sea
And there was nothing for me to see
It had all drawn back into itself
The shoreline on the far horizon
Preparing to crash back in with force
On Wednesday, I looked at the sea
And was desperately searching it for thee
It had devoured half of the island
Destroying, spreading tsunami terror
Washing away animals, humans…all
On Thursday, I looked at the sea
And it stared horridly right back at me
It was full of rotten fish belly-up
Goggle-eyed and horror-scaled
The ocean had a digestion problem
On Friday, I looked at the sea
And it seemed like a huge mirror to me
It was a silver-grey even plane
Reflecting the sun’s glare harshly
Seeming so hard it might cut you
On Saturday, I looked at the sea
And it sparkled in a lush turquoise vividly
It was deep and wavy and foamy
Right out of a tourist catalogue
The most charming sight to behold
On Sunday, I looked at the sea
And it seemed then to be at its most busy
It was aglow with fishermen and fish
Sporting tanned foreign swimmers
Aquarium and swimming pool in one
GEOMETRY
Paddy-field terraces
Full of hidden crevices
Lush tea-bush slopes
Where aroma elopes
Zig-zag and criss-cross
Hither and tither, to and fro
You never
know what pattern will show
You just follow the geometry’s flow
Palm fronds and banana leaves
They are also pattern thieves
A quilt of different greens
Who knows what it means
Zig-zag and criss-cross
Hither and tither, to and fro
Where it leads to you never know
You just follow the geometry’s flow
Paddy-field terraces
Full of hidden terrors
Tea-bush slopes
Lush with human hopes
Zig-zag and criss-cross
Hither and tither, to and fro
Giving the land a special glow
Making everyone follow geometry’s flow
This is a land of geometry
With a landscape full of mathematics
Mountain ranges depict
The knuckles on a lover’s calloused hand
Mountain peaks cast
Shadows in a perfect triangle’s shape
There’s a Rock looking like the Bible
There’s a holy mount with a footprint on the top
And a Mount belonging to a girl named Lavinia
It’s a landscape full of advanced mathematics
In this land of Asian geometry
This is a land of geometry
With mathematics of its own
Bodies look different
With cinnamon on a lover’s chocolate skin
Women look different
With coconut oil and jasmine in their hair
There’s bitter-chocolate skin and coffee one
There’s a choice between caramel and ivory
And blistering heat covering all with green shadows
It’s a landscape full of complex calculations
In this land of mysterious geometry
This is a land of geometry
With social mathematic theories
A semi non-existent caste system
Supporting a low-land up-country divide
A semi non-existent political system
Igniting a fierce Sri Lankan Tamil friction
There’s peaceful co-existence of religions
There’s stubborn maintenance of traditions
And a common multi-colonial history’s impact
There’s a society full of arithmetic riddles
In this land of un-geometric geometry
SERENDIB’S SERENADE
Lull me to sleep
With whispering breezes carrying the sultry salty tang of the ocean
Rock me to sleep
With gently lapping waves that weave a mesh of mermaid dreams
Sing me to sleep
With the dull rushing roar inside seashells like the beat of a heart
Soothe me to sleep
With the golden glow of the moon mirrored on the silky sea surface
Lull me to sleep
With a proud peacock’s plaintive cry and a dove’s cautious cooing
Rock me to sleep
With the breeze stirring palm fronds, the thunk of a fallen coconut
Sing me to sleep
With the curious chattering of a parrot and the chirp of a squirrel
Soothe me to sleep
With the plaintive moo of a cow as the monkeys are silent at last
Lull me to sleep
With the scent of plumeria mingling with the fragrant night jasmine
Rock me to sleep
On a rattan chair, a woven mat, a lumpy mattress, a soft hotel bed
Sing me to sleep
While the bats gobble fruits and mangoes ripen to juicy promises
Soothe me to sleep
With the lingering smell of curries and the hope for steamy milk rice
Lull me to sleep
Shrouded in fog so thick that magic enters the hazy realm of dreams
Rock me to sleep
Where the nose discerns Ceylon tea or stealthy cinnamon seduction
Sing me to sleep
So I may rise to the rhythmic chanting of monks and a distant drum
Soothe me to sleep
On an island once called Serendib where you awaken to serendipity
MYSTERIOUS MAIDENS
In a rock unprepossessing at first glance
Can be found a cavernous world of its own
Too glorious to be mere happenstance
You’ll find a kingdom painted on stone
As soon as your eyes adjust to the gloom
They will widen in delighted surprise
For adorning the rock walls there loom
Enchanting ancient murals in life size
A large group of women, clusters of bodies
One more beautiful than the other to behold
Every man’s dream this wall picture embodies
In fiery reds, orange, warm ochre and gold
Beautiful beings
Curvaceous creatures
Luscious lovers
Mysterious maidens
Figures forever portrayed on silent solid rock
Seemingly going about their own business
Their inviting secretive smiles ever mock
The centuries old paints still show crispness
Voluptuous bodies like moulded out of clay
Ornate head gear yet the upper bodies bare
Spectators can hardly keep desire at bay
Of their timeless beauty so acutely aware
For years and years scientists have wondered
What marvellous ladies does this fresco depict?
Is it mere imagination of a mind that wandered?
Or of a splendid lavish past a truthful relict?
Alluring angels
Flirtatious fairies
Gorgeous geishas
Mysterious maidens
Firm round breasts like king coconuts gleam
Glittering jewellery surrounds fair delicate faces
A sight that conjures up sighs, out of a dream
Of arrogance and innocence you find traces
Offering flowers or the fruits of temptation
Are these royal concubines enjoying a rest?
A vision so extraordinary it begs veneration
Their haughty tenderness a scientific quest
Are these wives or slaves, humans or even gods?
Who were the genius creators of this mirage?
Tourists and locals alike flock there in hordes
To behold this miracle set on a natural stage
Celestial charmers
Dazzling dames
Sensual sirens
Mysterious maidens
*The author is referring to the Sigiriya frescoes.
RETURN HOME
It’s so familiar, well remembered
The clanging of the latch
The screeching of the iron gate
The crunching of the gravel path
Your body still recalls the actions
Of standing on tip-toes
Of slightly lifting while pushing open
Of stepping around mounds of dog shit
While approaching the house
It’s so familiar, well remembered
The fading yellow paint
The steep slanting red-tiled roof
The white iron-grilled cloudy windows
Your eyes still recall the sight
Of paint blistering in the heat
Of crows perching on the gutters
Of creepers wound around window bars
While approaching the house
It’s unfamiliar, yet expected
The darkness within
The emptiness inside rooms
The quietness of a former family home
You can’t conjure up now
Sunshine filtering through the roof
Furniture crammed with belongings
A cacophony of voices and life sounds
While walking through the house
It’s unfamiliar, yet expected
The dust on the photographs
The secret animal life in the kitchen
The mouldy smell clinging to the walls
You can’t conjure up now
A busily cleaning servant girl
A mother cooking fragrantly spicy meals
A story-telling father and a loyal mongrel dog
While walking through the house
From the outside it’s still the same
Blazing heat and chattering birds
A sturdy house with a flower garden
But now you’re not used to heat and noise
And the weeds have claimed the territory
At first glance it’s still the same
The wicker and jack-wood furniture
The fans, flower vases and Buddha statue
But mildew and insects have settled in
And the things are now nobody’s belongings
The gate is rustier than ever, its clanging shrill
The building is bloated and windows are vacant
The rooms are long unoccupied by dear humans
The father vanished in the midst of a raging war
The mother has died from loneliness and old age
The Tamil servant girl returned to the North
The adopted stray dog resides in animal heaven
You left for abroad as a young idealist back then
And life here went on in its very own fashion
Without you things moved on at another pace
At this place at once familiar and unfamiliar
Bad idea to have come back finally, too late
For a last look, a renewing of dusty memories
The fondly remembered situation has changed
And so you end up asking yourself sadly
If it’s really a Return Home or merely a Return
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