Abhayagiriya on the 18th Jan 2011

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My original plan was to start literally at the very top of Sri Lanka (Jaffna) and to work my way down to the very bottom. (Galle) This turned out to be more difficult than I thought and I will explain why.

I was to visit Jaffna in January on my maiden trip and Kingsley, who instructs me on cultural and anthropological aspects of Sri Lanka, advised me that I should perhaps put off this trip until the following month. I was rather disappointed. All the plans I had for Jaffna were out. But as a stranger to this country having been abroad the last twenty five years it was best that I took his advice. You will find him an authority of this country with great insight which he relates so aptly to our history and its philosophy. I recall on one occasion when Kingsley made this comment at the very top of Mihintale where Mahinda Thera chose to meditate.

He said, “Laki, in this moment, this rock... this sky... this breeze... this sound... those birds... They are the same as what Mahinda Thera experienced, the only difference being the mind,”

Failing to understand his concept of the mind I enquired further.

And he said, “Time is the only unit of measure of thought. Our past, present and our future cannot exist without thought. And thought cannot exist without a mind. And the mind is the beholder of what is seen. What you see of the same scene is not the same for me nor was it for Mahinda Thera. What Mahinda Thera thought then was the only difference to what we just thought in this moment that just passed. But what it “IS” now is exactly what it was then.”

My mind in all its splendour attempted to work this out and fell into a loop and hence cried out, “syntax error”.

Armed with a background on anthropology, Kingsley was a gift sent from above. In fact he was in Jaffna the week before and he said that the place was simply flooded. The Monsoons were coming to an end and sought to show its best side for the last half a century. He said, “The rain made the place look rather muddy and if you stepped into where it seemed normal ground, your feet would sink up to your knees.” Apparently almost all the houses in Jaffna were with leaky roofs in every room with buckets and saucepans spread on the floor to collect the drip. His comment was that my prospective host would have enough trouble looking after his family rather than diverting his attention to my hospitality.

There was also the problem of some political unrest. Not the type that creates another war but the type that gets created by a post war syndrome. It appears the military police in the town is a bit nervy about strangers who come into the town these days due to the severe protests that are carried out abroad. Without indulging in political agenda as this is not the purpose of this blog, I would summate that considering my safety in general, it was decided that I should visit the place on my next trip in February. By then the Monsoons would be over and the land dry enough for my host to pour some attention on me.

We chose Abhayagiriya as the first port of call. I couldn’t contain my excitement right throughout the night and as on rarest of rare occasions, I postponed my early morning meditation for another time. The alarm sounded at 4am. And by 4.30 I was in the Jeep ready to pick up Kingsley from Ratmalana, a good half an hour drive from Colombo at that time in the morning. I had invested on this Jeep a couple of weeks ago for this purpose. (Picture included in the blog) It was nowhere near perfect but a wonderful experience and I was rather proud to own such a vehicle. I have owned many great vehicles in the past—fast and furious—but this Jeep was a manifestation of a boyish desire of mine for sure. It has a certain aura about it, and whenever I park it on the roadside, people would gather round to inspect it just as one would pay attention to a Ferrari in UK. The villagers I noticed had the winch at the front guard as a varifocal point which to them seemed a great attraction. I didn’t fix it, it came with the vehicle. “You will have to improve on it as you go along,” said the man who sold it to me while counting his money. The good news is that its mechanism is so basic any garage in the country no matter how remote will be able to repair it in an emergency, he claimed.

I was not to know until half an hour later that my first need to repair it would emerge when picking up Kingsley. I got to his place and found him outside patiently waiting in the dark smoking a cigarette. He was ready with a backpack and a bottle of water which he put in the back of the Jeep and got in. I attempted to get out of the car to greet him when he beckoned for me to get back in. We both closed our doors, his did and mine didn’t. It was perhaps the morning dew that did it; the lock had come loose from the door and refused to hold the door closed.

What was I to do? Call the AA? NO! There is no such thing called the AA that gets delayed by an hour and half like in England—when we fuss in disgust at the service. Oh no! The AA in Sri Lanka is almost like a socially run affair, where the telephone might be answered depending on the mood of the engineer on duty. But even if he did he would not get out of bed for you or for love of money. Anyway! I had more confidence in my Jeep than to get an AA membership.

So, do I hold my door and drive all the way to Abhayagiriya? This seemed like an end of the road situation to me when Kingsley got out again unperturbed and started removing some wire from a nearby fence. And in this act alone he taught me my first lesson; never worry! With the aid of a lengthy piece of wire that he removed from the roadside and my seatbelt that was of no use to man or dog as there was no buckle to lock it in, we secured the door. Apart from the minor inconvenience of not being able to get out from my side we started on our onward journey. Being more English than Sri Lankan this minor inconvenience left me tetchy. So Kingsley reassured me, “Don’t worry, we will get it repaired on the way when the garages open.”

The trip ahead was pleasant at that time of morning. We covered the normally busy streets of Colombo with relative ease. It was hard to imagine that the hustle & bustle of the heated payments of Colombo would arise in the wake of our departure. Then the busy streets of Fort, (The centre of Colombo) emanates a sense of competition amongst the otherwise unhurried Sri Lankan, especially if he is behind the wheel. To get in front of each other seems to be the basic and only training they receive on a driving course and to this end they ‘toot’ their horns as a weapon. When at a roundabout, the ‘left of way’ works best and when at a junction, they all choose to meet in the middle and then decide how to solve a problem like... “A traffic jam.” A bit like Western politics really! A flash of headlights doesn’t mean, “I am allowing you to cross,” it means, “Don’t even think about it.” Nobody seems to blame another for the delay. They simply know that ‘that’s the way it’s always been done and it works—if you are not in a hurry.’

En route to Abhayagiriya are many historical towns which were the subject of Kingsley’s constant explanation. Not all of it registered I must confess. Nevertheless, there was consolation that I would be visiting these towns at a later date, (If they were of any importance to my purpose.) Past Katunayake Airport, which all of you would be familiar with should you ever visit this country, was Kingsley’s birthplace. There was much said about this town and what he got up to as a school kid including how they made this same trip by bicycle remained in my memory even though I cannot remember the name of the town. Worry not, it will come to me and when it does it will appear in brackets right about here. (Negombo).

It was here that we had breakfast. Kingsley asked me to slow down at several prospective places so that he could carefully observe the sanitation of the boutique. It was my request that we lived like villagers and in doing so did not inconvenience ourselves with food poisoning. It was very important that the food was freshly made that morning and not the day before or the day before that. It was Kingsley’s advice that we should look for a well patronised boutique. Then to choose either string-hoppers or rice as these types rarely ever get left behind from the night before. The curries should be smelt for staleness. On all counts please avoid a mixture referred to as Kothu Rotti. Whilst this is freely available in every boutique, even when there is no food served at all, I was told that the mixture was put together by a most unsavoury means. And most of it has usually passed a sell by date. Therefore if you want to taste Kothu Rotti make sure you have it in a five star hotel. As a general rule food must always be consumed from a trusted source.

Yes, Sri Lankans eat like a King in the morning. Eh huh! They eat like a King at lunch time as well. And at dinner time but here is an interesting phenomenon. They have nothing in between and consume only water and by this act alone remain enviously lean even though the average Sri Lankan has a pot belly, a sign of prosperity caused by indulgent servings at meal times. Whilst I have noticed that the average Indian serves moderately just once and is content with this meal, The average Sri Lankan always refers to what is known as a second serving which is as generous as the first. If for some reason you wish not to take seconds, the host may take offence with a view that his hospitality wasn’t up to scratch. Sri Lankans seldom communicate but will absorb such observations as a means to communicating.

Enough said breakfast was excellent. Kingsley had string-hoppers with chicken, dhal and sambol. Since I have been a vegetarian for over two years I had it all minus the chicken. Owing to a sense of adventure and the wondrous morning Sun my appetite was big and I ate such quantities a Sri Lankan King would.

Our next stop was Puttalam on an open stretch of road by a beautiful lagoon beyond which one could see the beaches of Kalpitiya, a well know location for Dolphin and Whale sightings. We are now at the North Western Province quite someway from Colombo where I spotted a small garage which was to ease my tetchiness with regards to the broken door. True to the seller’s word the problem was solved with a makeshift bolt that was to later be accepted as a permanent fixture of the vehicle.

Two or three hours of further travels brought us to our destination Abhayagiriya but it wasn’t without a precarious stretch of road that put a dampener to the wonderful and long stretch of very comfortable driving. It was then that Kingsley revealed to me that I was to meet an important role model; a Buddhist Priest who to his name has many other accolades which I will explain in due course and was also a keen meditation Guru. Needless to say I have long surpassed the temptation of meeting Gurus for the purpose of meditation as I have now met my ultimate Guru. Nevertheless I did look forward to meeting this Monk whose credentials boasts of much achievement especially in the field of archaeology of Sri Lankan heritage.

Rev. Pannasinghe Thera was younger than I by about four years. (Photo of us at a site in Abhayagiriya is attached) I liked him instantly, calm in his demeanour and mature in outlook he had finished his education in Cambridge, UK. He spoke fluent English and was responsible for discovering some gratifying archaeological sites in Abhayagiriya. We greeted him and sat together at his veranda making light and humorous conversation. He agreed to show me some rare sites that were not open to public in the afternoon. But first we had to have lunch.

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