Book review
The Way We Grew by D.T. Devendra. Reviewed by Hemasiri Premawardhana
The birth centenary of D.T. Devendra, archaeologist and scholar is being commemorated with the release of two publications. "Men and Monuments" is the complete collection of the D.T. Devendra Memorial Lectures (1990-2000) and contains valuable contributions by distinguished archaeologists, historians and scholars in other disciplines. It is edited by Professor Leelananda Prematilleke and published by the Central Cultural Fund. It will be launched in January 2002.
"The Way We Grew", D.T. Devendra's autobiographical account of his village boyhood will be released in the last week of December by M.D. Gunasenas.
The book is a collection of what the author modestly calls "notes" about his childhood in rural Kalegana, Galle, at the start of the last century and now published, 30 years after his death, on the hundredth year of his birth.
He begins the notes with the words: "Last night (December 13,1960), Tissa, my elder son said that he thought that the story of my life has much of human interest and that I should sit down to write it." But, the author is quick to say, "these are, after all, nothing more than frank recollections of remembered days of some 45 years ago and must be regarded as of no greater value than Old Wives' tales". He sees himself as "only a recorder, of events that show the actors themselves to be warmly human, with all too human eccentricities tingeing them into life. I wouldn't like my grandchildren - for whom I write these notes - to think of them as anything more than that. Maybe my own sons and daughters will, some day, tell tales like these of me and, when they do so, as harmlessly as I have done".
The 'notes', arranged in seven chapters take the form of a book of 200 odd pages, and cover the first 17 years of his life (1901 to 1918).
Asking himself the question, "How far back in time can I go in these notes?", he remarks: "I cannot say, like a British aristocrat could, 'My folks came over with the Conqueror'." Going by their names he surmises that people of his caste (Navandanna - makers of gold jewellery) may have come from South India in the times of the Kotte kings. "They may not have been quite the para demalu to which capacity we, the Sinhalese, consign the Tamils," he observes. But he, being the scholar and researcher he is, does not consider it a scientific conclusion but "purely an analogy.... in order to explain ourselves ethnologically". The full family name, as told to the author by his father, was "Matara Kotuwegoda Don... (personal name).... Lokudevendra". The father, "being not only a puritan but also an iconoclast, dropped all this and confined himself to Don Alwis Devendra".
The author uses the simplest possible, almost conversational, English, a language in which he excelled although it wasn't spoken at his home. On his passing the Cambridge Junior local examination in 1916, while yet underage, he says, "it was a great achievement for a carpenter's grandson whose home language was not English".
He doesn't fear to use Ceylonisms such as Tambi Singho uncle, Matara aunt, etc.; the notes are amply spattered with Sinhala words and phrases used by the Southern rural folk of that period, untranslatable into English, such as mama puka harewwa, vandapukki, mang galthangu vuna, asathpurushaya, etc., which, even if translated, would not have meant the same thing or had the same impact on the reader.
In narrating his story Devendra reveals what a keen, sharp and intelligent observer he had been as a mere child, of the world and the immediate environment in which he and other people lived.
Writing the notes at the age of almost 60, he is brutally honest, totally frank and spares no one (not even himself), and presents the stark and grim reality of the life he, his parents and his siblings lived. His attitude to both poverty and caste is the same: he accepts them as just facts of life and nothing more. He is neither biased in favour or against any of his relatives or any other person. Nor does he take the moral high ground and pass judgement on anyone. He records the people, facts and events as he saw and understood them, with their oddities, eccentricities, pecularities. Talking about the daughters of one of his father's elderly cousins, who was reputed to be 'frisky' and who had effected a clever abortion, he says, "What stories to hear in our impressionable years, but then all rural life is as raw and natural".
I consider chapters 5 and 6 of the book to be the most important in the significance and meaning they bear for today's parents, and children in their teens.
Chapter 5, titled Children Together, deals with the daily routine of life of the author and his siblings, and the strict regime under which they were brought up. It was a very large family consisting of originally 10 children but reduced to 8 by the untimely and unfortunate death of two girls. The author was the third child.
The patriarch of the family presiding over the large brood, Don Alwis, had no idea of either the number or the names of his own children. ".... to mother's intense disgust, (he) would exaggerate the number (of children) when conversing with others." The patriarch had only "scorn at even registering the births of the children. So he did not know his children's names". His habit of whimsically changing the names of the children caused them utter consternation as, for example, in the case of the author himself, who says: "I was known as Titus (but Freddy within the Family) .... But when I went to collect my birth certificate at the Galle Kachcheri.... I found to my consternation, that I had been registered as Don Allis Loku Devendra!"
The children were put through a regular daily rigorous drill by the father who got them to wake up at about 4.30 a.m. for studies. Then they had to go to the well, and while drawing up the first bucket, recite the words siyalu satwayo niduk vetva, nirogi vetva, suwapath vetva. Author Devendra says: "To this day I have not failed to repeat the phrases though not in the morning but as I close my eyes to sleep."
They also had to do the domestic chores such as sweeping the house and washing the plates. In the night they studied by coconut-oil brass lamp believed to provide light soft to the eyes. The night lamp was the universal bottle lamp which worked on kerosene oil. As an economizing strategy, kerosene was poured on to a large volume of water. The father, in spite of the fact that he could not afford to educate the children, was vehemently intent on doing so. An elderly cousin who advised him against this was told, "Even if I descend to the streets with a coconut shell in my hands, yet will I give my children a worthy education."
The father had no visible means of income and the children had nothing substantial to eat most of the time.
In chapter 6, titled Hunger Is Agony, the author describes this grim situation:
"And now to Hunger! (note the capital letter!). What could we do? Sometimes we stripped the two king coconut palms of all their fruits. Sometimes we .... ate - with agonizing stomach pains - the great big habarala yams which throve in utter magnificence behind the house. Hunger is Agony. We stripped all trees of edibles - even immature - to appease it. Even kurumbaatti we did not allow to remain."
When they could afford it they ate varieties of very small fish such as halmesso, larggo, handallo, and the bigger ones such as bollo (kumbalawo) and alagoduwo. They loved salted fish (Jadi). Their vegetables were village-grown - carrots, knol-khol and such were unheard of. Yellow rice, occasionally prepared, was just rice cooked in yellow water and nothing else - no ghee, meat, brinjals, seeni sambol. Only onions and Maldive fish.
Although none of the children had to be coaxed to go to school, poverty sometimes interfered with studies. Once, asked to bring a new exercise book, Titus kept away from school (Richmond) because he didn't have the four or six cents to buy one, rather than disclose his poverty to the teacher.
He gives an amusing account of their miserable plight on rainy schooldays: "In place of raincoats, which I don't believe we ever saw, father would wrap us up in some cloth and we were horrified at being seen in the public highway like rolled up 'mummies'! We would slink across the back garden, cross the Bope toddy tavern, cut across gardens and get on to the railroad - and then peel off the 'mummy wrapping' directly when out of sight from our garden - and march honourably on!" Comments Devendra, "Such is life."
The author most vividly remembers his father in his worst days of poverty "when he learnt the art of gilding and, with his things in a carpet bag, would travel well away from home and ply his trade. For him it was a demeaning and dishonourable task, and so he would go to distant villages and remit his takings to the family in Galle by Postal or Money Order. He was capable of stupendous effort when the necessity arose. He would travel interminable miles, and hungrily".
"Once despairing of earning enough to sustain the family he mortgaged a part of the property and bought loads of rice, parippu and such stuff. For two or three months we lived like kings!" says Devendra. But there had been times when the father longed for rest - and forever.
In the last chapter Devendra recalls his days as a teacher at Nalanda College in the 1930s. Day-to-day collections of fees were slow and salaries fell into arrears. He had to pawn his wedding ring and borrow money at 120% interest to exist! Concludes Devendra, "Life is, then, not so frightening."
The tradition continues
It's so consoling to see that tradition continues at the Chitrasena Vajira Dance Foundation. The latest ballet - 'Berahanda' directed by Vajira - was ample proof of this. The new faces showed promise.
At a time when traditional dance forms are being adapted to picturise many a song, some with disastrous results, it's up to reputed masters like Chitrasena and Vajira to ensure that we remain on track. It's good to see them doing just that.
'Berahanda', based on the story written by seasoned dramatist Bandula Jayawardene, maintained the high quality we expect from Vajira, picking the right talent and directing them well.
Geeth as Sakra and Mahesh as Pansilu showed the talent that Channa and Ravibandu _ two highly successful dancers in the field today _ showed not very long ago under Chitrasena and Vajira. Geeth, a graduate of the Kelaniya University, has been a keen performer from his young days and is bound to go a long way under Vajira's able hands. Mahesh has followed classes at the Chitrasena Kalayathanaya for five years and is a beneficiary of the 'Preserve the Dance Project' initiated by Vajira. Playing the female lead, Dilhani showed maturity having performed in Kalayathanaya productions since 1986.
So did Venuri, who has won a scholarship to continue her studies in India. The supporting cast was good too.
'Berahanda' is yet another feather in the cap of Ravibandu, the master of drums. He was responsible for the drum compositions (with P. M. K. Bandara) and was solely in charge of the orchestration. He also played the drum and lent his voice.
The Somabandu touch was very much there in the decor and costume designs. He is still a part of the 'gang'.
Vajira remains the active, vibrant, disciplined dance teacher that she has been for decades. 'Berahanda' showed her capabilities once again. Vajira, continue the good work!
Truly a great master
Senior journalist Tilakaratne Kuruwita
Bandara, teaming up with Hemapala Ranasinghe, has paid tribute to the great folk artiste, Charles Silva Gunasinghe by putting out a publication comprising articles on the Gurunnanse's contribution to the popular 'nadagam' tradition.
Gurunnanse won fame in the mid-fifties when Dr. Sarachchandra produced 'Maname' with his assistance and guidance. Though we know him for his valuable contribution to 'Maname', the research done by the editors has revealed that he had at least a dozen 'nadagam' productions to his credit. They are all historical as the names indicate - Ramayanaya, Saliya-Asokamala, Vidhura, Ehelepola, Vessantara and Kalagola, to mention a few.
While academics assess the Gurunnanse's contribution and players who were trained by the Gurunnanse for 'Maname' relate their experiences, the personal piece done by his nephew Hemapala who grew up at Loku Thaththa's place, discusses his daily routine. A devout Buddhist, he would pay homage to the Buddha morning and night and recite Pirith before getting to bed. At dawn he would gulp down a cup of water and begin work in the garden after enjoying what remained of the previous night's dinner (rice) or a slice of bread. He had a nap after lunch, then a good betel chew and later cut a 'kaduru' tree out of which he carved out human forms for use in puppet plays. He hummed a tune or sang a song as he worked. Hemantha remembers vividly how the Gurunnanse insisted on performing the Giri Devi dance for Governor-General Lord Soulbury, when he visited Balapitiya, with his son's corpse in the house. It was a commitment, which he had to keep to.
Equally interesting is son, Punyasena Gunasinghe's story of how the father taught him the art. The father had been a performer from his young days, starting by playing the role of a female in a nadagama at the age of eight.
Born in April 1896, the Gurunnanse had eight children - six sons and two daughters. Except the last (Punyasena 65 now), they are no more. Three of them had untimely deaths. Gurunnanse himself was only 66 when he died in April 1962. The Sarasavi publication is indeed a fitting tribute to a great master.
By Alfreda de Silva
The season of Christ
mas which celebrates
the birth of Christ has added an inspired body of poetry to English literature.
Christina Rossetti's lyric 'Mary's Girlhood' seems an appropriate place with which to begin this selection:
"So held she through her girlhood, as it were
An angel-watered lily, that near God
Grows and is quiet, till one day at home,
She woke in her white bed, and had no fear
Because the fulness of the time was near......"
Eleanor Farjeon takes us to the stable where Christ was born and draws attention to the fact that He is everywhere.
"Shall I to the byre go down
Where the stalled oxen are
Or shall I climb the mountain's crown
To see the rising star?
"It matters not. Go where you will,
Kneel down in stable stall_
To the warm fireside, give your cheek.
Or turn it to the snow
It matters not, the one you seek
You'll find where'er you go..."
T.S. Eliot's 'Journey of the Magi' draws on a Biblical incident. It is much more than a mere descriptive exercise on the ironies of the journey to Bethlehem, encountered by the eastern sages following a star. It states the disparity between human hopes and their fulfilment. It also points to a world of ceaseless change and impermanence.
"All this was a long time ago, I remember
And I would do it again, but set down
This: Were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. We had seen birth and death."
A younger poet, Theodore Weiss, fuses the natural and the symbolic innovatively in his poem on Christmas, entitled 'A Commonplace'.
As it suggests this modern composition records the poetry there is in the common, everyday attitudes and aspirations of people. Beginning with a focus on the unschooled, frightened shepherds, it speaks to and is equated with every man.
"...See him stamped there,
come down into the commonplace, who let himself be slabled in the blood.
His walk brought sea, salt, fish, bread of his body.
Yet within his memory, each breath travail did loiterings of his past, in sleep perhaps, cajole him....."
In keeping with the humble and lowly circumstances of Christ's birth, His manger, the cattle around Him and the swaddling bands in which He was laid, are these poignant lines from Carol Freeman's 'On a child's Christmas in a ghetto'.
"Christmas morning I
got up before the others, and ran
naked across the plank
floor, into the front
room, to see grandmother sewing a new
button on my last year
rag doll."
The beauty and ecstasy of the Birth of Bethlehem are caught in this poem of rhythm, music and radiance - 'The Starlight Night' by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
He lures us as deftly as a magician into his joyous dancing circle:
"Look at the stars, look, look at the skies!
O look at all the fire-folk litting in the air!
The bright burroughs, the circle-citadels there!
... Buy then! bid then! What? Prayers, patience alms, vows,
Look, look: a May-mess, like on orchard boughs,
Look! March-bloom like on mealed- with - yellow - sallows!
These are indeed the barn; within doors house
The shocks. This piece - bright paling shuts the spouse
Christ home, Christ and His mother and all His hallows!"
Katherine Tynan, in 'A Song for the Season' - makes an urgent plea for peace.
"The kings to the stable
They brought sweet spice,
The gold and the silver
And jewels of price
But the dove by the manger
She would not cease,
Mourning so softly:
Bring Him peace, bring Him peace"
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