A strong smell of spices
mixed with petrol and kerosene wafted through the oppressive humid heat. The
town of Trincomalee church of Our Lady of Guadeloupe
looms somber, yet majestic. And then, the landscape changes suddenly without
warning. There are few buildings of significance beyond this point, mostly
shrubby jungle interspersed with large trees and bare open land. From time to
time, you would catch the odd glimpse of the sea where the road dares to run
close enough to its white sandy coast.
The road is deserted and full of pot holes. The trees that accompany the road
are large and wild and perhaps many hundreds of years old. We drive past many a
Banyan Tree with its eerie aerial roots hanging from spreading branches. Would
that be a Ficus benghalensis or a religiosa I wonder? I smile remembering
the many carefree childhood walks that were transformed into tedious botany
lessons by my father, much to the utter dismay and exasperation of his
offspring…..benghalensis I decide,
for religiosa, as its name implies
would be the sacred Bo tree.
The bus stops abruptly at
a dull structure that looks like cement box, rudely interrupting my pleasant
reverie. I grab my backpack and use my
elbows to create a path to escape. All around me, as far as the eye can see, is
what looks like sea sand, though the sea is almost two miles to the east. It
could be mistaken for a desert, had it not been for the low lying areas in it
that were filled with water. An occasional spiky tree that looked like a small
model of a coconut tree with spikes at the tip of
the leaves broke the monotony of an otherwise flat landscape. Not a soul, not
even a damn villager in sight…… and for a moment I felt like running after the
bus. After some thought, I gathered
enough courage to walk along the meandering road that would lead me to the
village in the east. I had been walking for nearly 2 miles when the sand pit
desert turned into a shrubby bush jungle and eventually to tall trees. Out
of nowhere a large house appeared. Who on earth would build such a good house
in the middle of nowhere, then a jungle again followed by barbed wire fences where creepers with bright
pink flowers had grown so profusely that it looked like a wall. More signs of life now, the odd
mud hut and bare bodied little children playing with discarded tyres. I pass
the village shop, its outdoor benches occupied by wizened old men doing nothing
in particular. I returned their curious glances with a friendly wave. I pass
the village school which was bigger than I
expected and finally arrived at the four acre compound. The welcome party was
already in place as I turned the little sandy culvert that lead to the land.
For a moment it looked as
if the whole village had turned up to greet me. On closer inspection I realized
it was just the family. There was Raghavan, his wife, their 8 kids and of
course his mother-in-law, his sister, her husband, their two dogs and a passing
Billy goat. The eldest was an eighteen year old girl, and the youngest was a
toddler comfortably nestled on his mother’s hip. It was a mud hut, just one
small room with a roof of dried thatched palmyrah leaf. The floor too was made
of mud, it was very cool inside and though dark it had a good earthy smell. The
husband was a fisherman who mostly didn’t fish but drank, a very pleasant man
who in a different world would have become a stock broker. The woman too was
generous (but if provoked would scold so loud that it could be heard a mile
away), and the food and the tea from the pitch black kettle was tasty. The
landlord had allowed them to stay without rent to look after the chillie and
onion plantation.
Being just 5 degrees north of the equator this is a very sunny country and this
eastern part of the island is known to have the
highest temperature. But the term dry zone is not very accurate, for when the
north-east monsoon blows in, the landscape
transforms unexpectedly, with luscious green vegetation sprouting up as far as
the eyes can behold.
I went to the onion harvesting land where the eighteen year old worked. She was
a big made mouthy girl, bigger than her father, who tried to dominate anyone
who came her way including me. She asked the most difficult questions I have
ever faced. How do you stop rodents from climbing coconut
trees (why would a rodent want to climb a coconut tree)? How do you
water a large estate of water melon (Ask bloody Aristotle,
maybe his water screw will help, that is if you can’t afford a water pump)? “I
heard you are an expert on trees” she remarked casually. “What is that tree out
there and what can you do with it”. I really didn’t know, but I should have for
it is a large tree with smallish leaves and with a wonderful bark that had a
nice design to it. “Muthirai” she replied knowingly and somewhat
sarcastically, “the wood is dark red, and it is much better than teak”.
We finally arrived at the onion land where many women were harvesting, row upon
row of sage green stalks tipped by dainty white flower heads, a lucrative crop
where even the damn leaves could be eaten as a salad. I strolled to the edge of
the barbed wire fence where a large Tamarind tree grew. And on the opposite side was
another large land with another barbed wire fence, beyond that another and it
goes on and on like this forever until you meet the very edge of the sea.
Around here the biggest threat was a wandering stray cow eating the plants and
so a barbed wire was all that was needed. Nobody invested on walls.
The view was unrestricted, presenting an incredible sight. Trees and shrubs, bare open land, noisy insects, the
smell of sand, a yellow flowering shrub that had
a strong heady aroma, birds of the brightest hues, a sun so bright that it
burnt the skin, what would Vincent van Gogh have
painted had he been born here.
I met the Post Master a man of maybe 55, with graying hair combed neatly behind
and a constant toothy grin. To me he looked like an insurance salesman. He said
“there was an American who lived in the house you would have passed on your way
here, he was a rich man, well connected, he was here for about one year but
left about two years ago”. “He was an adventurer, did scuba diving everyday,
well, when he left he gave me this telescope” he added, handing me a polished
leather box. It was a Meade Telestar, a wonderful refracting telescope and
possibly one of the most advanced of its size. Built by the Cornelius
Corporation of the United
States
I set the telescope on a large rock in the beach, the rock pushed partly into
the sea but I was safely out of reach from the surging of the waves. I turned
the telescope to the horizon and right at the rim of the world, all I could see
at first was foam. There was obviously a rock or a reef out there and as I
moved further right there was a fishing boat. Although ten miles into the sea I
could see the fisherman, but because the atmosphere danced with heat only
intermittent glimpses of the scene were afforded. A clear image appeared only
to disappear immediately into a blur as the intense heat faded the vision. It
was a Dhoni, a boat very long and hollowed in the middle and balanced from
rolling over by another wooden log attached by two poles. There were three men,
the sail was down and the boat blobbed aimlessly, up and down on the deep sea.
I turned it to the left and spotted an old wreck, rusted stern and all. It was a fair distance into the sea, but it
made a large image in my telescope. There is no doubt it was a large ship,
probably a war ship. Then I caught sight of a sea bird which I could not
identify but looked like a tern. Next something I thought was an eagle, but
lost it as it dived to catch a fish. I turned the telescope to the extreme
right and there pushing majestically from the coast was the mountain from which
the town got its name. Right on the very edge of the distant cliff was the
ancient Koneswaram temple, one of the most revered shrines on the island.
A leaflet fluttered out
of the box which had held the telescope and I hastily stepped over the rocks to
retrieve it. It turned out to be the instruction manual for the instrument. The
Meade Telestar I learnt was very popular among amateur astronomers. I avidly
read the instructions with a surging feeling of childlike excitement. I
realized I was wasting this instrument on terrestrial viewing. With the magnification
it was capable of, I would be able to see not only the stars, constellations
and moon craters but even the four largest moons of Jupiter and the rings of
Saturn. I decided to miss the only bus that comes in the evening at 5.30 pm and
stretched back on the smooth rock surface, waiting for sunset.
Written by: RJX
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