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RETURN TO SEREDIP! (Ceylon)


As the plane circled over Katunayake airport, I was overcome with a magical feeling of anticipation that one never fully understands, a deep indefinable yearning for this lost paradise. To think I was returning to this teardrop isle in the Indian Ocean after 44 years — which had created a chasm between us, a slow and tender wave of nostalgia arose in me with a trace of sorrow. The intrinsic moment of truth would arrive on touch down.


Forty four years is a long time, when the world order was changing at a furious pace, and as time flowed in a linear direction, there was a sense of separation going away to a distant land that evokes a powerful feeling of melancholy that is real. As the Toyota SUV carrying us crept towards Galle face hotel, amidst the incessant monsoon drizzle, memories began to flood through me as inexorably as the surging tide, & gentle waves caressing the galle face green. Fragments of events, places and my own childhood images of people, streets and times interweave themselves across my mind. By the rays of the setting sun and the twilight of my life I peered hard through the window trying to reach out for posterity the glimpses of past history and parts of my early life.


Yes it was a journey or shadow run that began symbolically in Negomlo in 1952 amongst the lush environs of Ave Maria Convent as I was cast adrift ever so slowly on the painful solitary journey called life!


The next day I embarked on my voyage of rediscovering Ceylon and to close the gap of separation and distance between us. As we traveled to Kandy and Nuwareliya through the magical road the lush greenery and neatly thatched houses, en route to the elephant orphanage at H…………. was a sight for sore eyes. The many waterfalls created an enchanting vista of the scenic landscape with the silver water cascading serenely into the valleys was soothing. Suddenly the topography changed and we came across acres and acres of neatly laid out carpets of green tea estates en route to our hotel. The St Andrews hotel was a one hundred and twenty three year old property in pristine condition, reeking of tradition and history, handed down by the Tudors. One could almost visualize and imagine the Englishmen and women sipping high tea with scones, cakes and egg benedict in the lazy afternoons. The gorgeous country houses, miles of unending tea plantations and temperature hovering at 14 Celsius was the perfect back drop for having a sun-downer sitting by the fireplace or by the window taking in the majestic sweep of the verdant countryside. During the return drive, whizzing by the towns Nuwareliya, Kandy, Gampolla…. etc amidst the picturesque countryside, the towns sped like a kaleidoscopic blur of farmlands, fields, plantations kissed by the setting sun. As we engaged the winding macadam roads in the gentle hush of the lazy afternoon, I began to grow younger in my mind and I vividly remembered a bygone era another time bringing in slow motion wistful memories of my youth. An indigo sky, the gaunt palm trees, and the river ( Mahaweli) gently flowing, that no one notices its silent unobtrusive course, with a rustling murmur that sheds a few muddy tears for the deep simmering ethnic conflict that has encapsulated this island of paradise for two decades.