Dehiwala Boy: The Rise

This is not a very interesting story. Because see, Achchie, was not a very interesting woman. Of course, it is true that her father was a mudaliyar, liked planes*, got a malaysian pension and hid it in a saree, and two days before passing away peacefully to the sound of birds chirping in the coastal Dehiwala afternoon, she had had a good chicken fried noodles. But there is much to be said, and interesting domestic women to meet.

Lechchimi was by far the most interesting of these (may she rest in peace). Lechchimi lived like our other domestics, Pakiam, whose son didn't actually make it, but died in an incubator because of an ENT condition- pakiam also lived on the same stretch of waltzing kerosene oil flames, the nice homely smell of fresh firewood, that ran parallel to the Dehiwala railway line. The world was much more colourful everyone knows, in the nineteen nighties.

Amma, i remember used to proudly bob her head up and down to a tiny black walkman, which had box shaped small speakers the size of a cigerette pack. But, we shouldn't jump ahead of things especially when childhood is filled with things like Sunday school christmas parties, the hot twelve year olds there, and, family.

Until next time, just get familiar with the neighbourhood a little. At the bottom of the lane, live the muslims, and that is accepted as sufficient explanation of them, in this age where politically incorrect is satirical and therefore more intellgient than being politically correct.

Huseik, lives at the top of the road, affable young boy. The station can be seen from the middle of the road- it's just over the wall in fact. At the very end of the road, next to the muslims, and my paternal grandparents, is the wall that would divide where our domestics live from us, and make the little lane on station road my home for the next nine years. Haven't found our house yet? Achchi, might be there if you come in the morning, since i would have gone to school, my mother to office, and my grandmother to teach. Just knock hard.

Mathu Sambadhaiy... (to be contd.)

*achchi: Violet Mabel Bee Bee, married a radio engineer at the Palali airport, and lived basked in anthuriums, mutton, Methodist christianity, and possible racism. She also raised a son who became a airline captain, who also raised a son who became a pilot. In te same country as Elmo jayawardene, but that is literally another story.