Rupees and Rice: The Careful Bounty of the Jayasinghes

The quiet fortitude of 248 Mudiyansegewatta Road

The Jayasinghe household stood as a bastion of order and abundance in their sleepy Colombo suburb. Thomas, a man of some consequence in the local municipal offices, presided over his domain with the meticulousness of a seasoned bureaucrat. His wife Susan, a fortress of domestic efficiency, tended to their brood of three — the eldest on the cusp of adulthood, the middle child a girl navigating the turbulent waters of teenage years, and the youngest, still clinging to the remnants of childhood at eleven.

Their abode, a sprawling house inherited from Susan’s mother, was a testament to their prosperity. Surrounded by a veritable orchard, coconut palms stood sentinel, their tall trunks whispering secrets of past glories. An assortment of fruit trees — jack, banana, guava, and even a few coffee and pepper plants — bent under the weight of their bounty, providing more than the family could consume.

While Thomas’s government salary formed the backbone of their existence, their wealth extended far beyond their immediate surroundings. Two houses filled their coffers with a steady stream of rental income. Additionally, a small coconut estate some fifty miles from their home, belonging to Thomas’s mother, and a large pineapple plantation that was part of Susan’s family inheritance became their other significant income streams. A steady stream of rice from a paddy plantation in Susan’s inheritance became the staple diet of the Jayasinghe family.

Each day in the Jayasinghe household began well before dawn. Thomas’s mother, the children’s favourite grandma, was an engine of her own, her tireless energy setting the rhythm of the household. Before the first light touched the coconut trees, she was already astir, scattering feed for the chickens and checking on the pigs. As the sun rose, she gathered firewood and coaxed life into the hearth, filling the kitchen with the heady aroma of spices and fresh produce from their gardens.

Meanwhile, Susan orchestrated the morning routine of their three children with military precision. Her firm yet gentle voice roused the sleepy-eyed youngsters from their beds. She supervised their washing, ensured they ate breakfast, checked school bags, packed lunches, and laid out freshly pressed uniforms. Her efficient movements transformed her brood from sleepy children into presentable students ready to face the day.

In the garage, a gleaming Lambretta scooter and a sturdy Humber bicycle bore testament to Thomas’s position, while his firstborn’s Raleigh sports cycle leaned against the wall, symbolising youthful freedom.

As evening fell, Thomas retired to his study. In the warm glow of a desk lamp, he opened his ledger, a chronicle of his family’s fortunes. With the precision of an accountant and the dedication of a devotee, he began to scrutinise the week’s finances, his pen scratching softly as he updated the debit and credit columns. These vehicles and other assets made in Thomas’s meticulous records.

In the rare moments of respite, the grandmother’s gnarled fingers would deftly weave pandanus leaves into sturdy sleeping mats, a skill passed down through generations. These mats found their way into every room of the house, a tactile reminder of her constant, quiet presence in their lives.

As Thomas finished his nightly ritual, he could hear the gentle rustling of papers from the next room where Susan, with vigilance guarding her hoard, kept a hawk’s eye on every rupee that left their home. Her frugality was legendary among the neighbours, who often whispered about the curious paradox of the Jayasinghe family — so rich and careful with their spending.

In those quiet moments, surrounded by the distant laughter of his children and the soft sounds of his industrious household, Thomas found a peculiar sort of peace in the certainty of numbers. With its blend of abundance and prudence, the Jayasinghe household continued to thrive in its sleepy Colombo suburb, a testament to the careful stewardship of its patriarch and matriarch and the tireless efforts of three generations working in harmony.