To Sri Lanka, with Love.

Hi Sri Lanka,

I am quite to used to writing letters, just that it has been some time since I felt like writing one for someone. But then I couldn’t resist dropping you note.

It has been a month since I left your shores, and I have thought about you quite often. Before I met you, I had known you only through Cricket, the legend of Ramayana, and sometimes through the history of long running conflict between your children. As a kid who enjoyed bits of the Ramayana (through the eyes of Ramanand Sagar and Uncle Pai) and lots of Cricket, I grew up visualizing you across these two dimensions. But then actual meetings do break notions and change perceptions.

My week long journey took me across your coastal waist line, a bit towards your mountainous heart, and slightly up towards your brain full of knowledge, culture, and tradition.

I have always been attracted towards a curvy waistline like yours. But in your case the attraction was more a result of your immaculate shores and cheerful inhabitants. Sitting on your shores, where the clean waters of Indian Ocean playfully stroked the sands at Hikkaduwa and Unawatuna and skies promptly changed colors through all the shades of a Doordarshan-VIBGYOR, I felt completely at peace. It was a relaxing, a Po-like feeling, sound-years away from all the noise of the city I live in. It was here that I found your kin of happy, beach-cricket playing Buddhists flashing their toothy grins, and flaunting their attractive dark shiny skin, with long flowing Malinga-like hair (probably as a result of their protein-rich seafood diet). In between those smiles, I also came across a few broken grins, carrying wounds of the Tsunami which violated your shores some years back. But the smile of my toothless Scuba Diving instructor assured me that you and your children had moved on.

I  left the comfort of your waist and followed your partially ruptured network of railway tracks, and neatly laid out roads towards the central highlands. It was at Kandy where I found the lost tooth of your child’s smile, quite amazingly being that of the Buddha himself. It was the Temple of Tooth which gave me an alternate mythological narrative to the India-Sri Lanka relationship, so deeply engrained in the Ramayana, where the story of the tooth depicted through a series of paintings “Amar Chitra Katha-ed” me. Beyond the temple, with the noise coming back Kandy had started feeling a bit more like home. If your waistline gave me peace and comfort, your heart palpitated between the noisy and the normal, between the brawn  and the Buddha.

A trip southwards of Kandy would have led us to the beautiful highlands of Nuwara Elaya and Horton Plains, but we chose to navigate northwards. The trek to the royal seat of Sigriya, crossing its recovered 4^th Century A.D. compound, its neatly reconstructed gardens, its faded frescos, and artificially constructed staircases helped me overcome my curiosity. It might have been the ruling post of the mighty King Kashyapa, but for me it was my small seat of enlightenment. Sitting atop acres of dark forests, and a murky set of clouds passing at a knee-length, I felt like a learned man. I was happy that I got to know and experience you a bit more. And I finally had an answer to why those Lions are printed on your dress. I wish I could have traveled deeper into your brain towards Anuradhapura, but then the time was less, and I had to caress your hand on my way back home.

I chose your right hand, the industrious, populated city of Colombo. I saw your children working hard, be it the stock exchange white-collared executives or the street vendors at Galle Face. All of a sudden you were as noisy as my own country, and the lines between you and India blurred. But I noticed more happiness on the face of your children. They all seemed content. You it seems are content after the war has ended. You also have a strong leader running your country. You are lucky.

It was in Colombo where I truly discovered your passion for the gentlemen’s game. From the kids playing Cricket on the Galle Face promenade, to a nostalgic and gastronomically satisfying evening at Cricket Club Café, my last moments in Sri Lanka were spent in the company of a sport we both equally love.

And there was the food. Yes the food. Oh, those angelic prawns, devilled dishes, and liters of EGB.

I saw you talking to others to my friend. A lot of travelers come from western countries looking for what I found, but I could notice the special bond you shared with Britishers (probably the aftereffect of the Raj), Australians (influence on Cafés, Steaks, Burgers, and the City of Galle which shares a deep, but recent connect with the continent-nation), and Indians (with whom you share a love-hate relationship). And yes then there were our new friends,  the Chinese. I know they are building you bridges, but do remember who built the first bridge to connect your country with the world.

I miss you a bit and so I will be back. For watching a Test Match at Galle, or probably to wander through the remains of Anuradhapura, or for a dive at Trincomalee.

Thanks for the hospitality and comfort you gave me.

Peace. Quite truly.

Desh

Photos were clicked by either Nishant or me.