The Lane of Duality
The Harvest of Kinship: Echoes from a Lane not far from Colombo
Beneath the pulsing heart of Colombo, a lane whispered stories of two worlds. It was a place where serenity and commotion danced in a delicate balance, offering a tranquil journey towards Kohalwila Road on one flank and a lively passage towards Kandy Road on the other. Here, nestled in the embrace of this duality, stood a house that bore silent testimony to the lane’s contrasting faces.
The family within, bound by the tender threads of love and the cadence of daily life, were blessed with the gift of choice. The siblings, brimming with the fervour of youth, favoured the bustling route to Kandy Road, leaving behind the meandering path through Kohalwila Road. To their left, a hidden trail beckoned, a quieter path less travelled, promising a swift escape from the clamour of the crowd.
With each sunrise, the weekdays hummed with the rhythm of school-bound journeys to the city. But as the weekend dawned, the eldest sibling donned the mantle of the family’s courier, weaving through errands with purpose. His tasks led him through the familiar maze of Kiribathgoda town, sometimes aboard the bus to Kadawatha at times, on foot, tracing the steps of his ancestors.
Yet, the lane was not just a canvas of light; it also held shadows. To the siblings’ left stood the grand abode of the church’s deputy layman, a figure of authority and influence. And beside it, a modest dwelling cradled a mother and her daughters, their lives etched with struggle. When the younger daughter’s life took an unexpected turn with a pregnancy out of wedlock, it was not solace but scorn she found at the hands of the deputy layman. The boy, a silent witness to this injustice, felt a deep indignation that blossomed into contempt each time he passed the homes of the accuser and the accused.
As the lane wound on, it unfurled into a playful serpentine, skirting past homes with generous yards, humble abodes, brass foundries, and a paddy field kissed by the sun. Ascending a gentle incline, it brushed past a cinema hall, a solitary sentinel against the sky, before spilling onto the vibrant Kandy Road. Here, the path diverged towards Kiribathgoda, where the bus halt beckoned travellers towards the northern routes, offering respite from the week’s well-worn trails.
Kiribathgoda town was a vibrant patchwork of commerce and life, where shops and eateries jostled for space among the bus halts, vegetable stalls, and milk bars. Another cinema hall and a petrol shed added to the town’s bustling tapestry. Beyond the town’s fervour, the road stretched past a sprawling paddy field, climbing a gentle slope to the Mahara junction, a lively crossroads of trade. And yet further, the road swelled into the grandeur of Kadawatha junction, dwarfing Kiribathgoda with its vastness and the lively array of shops that lined its breadth, pulsating with the town’s relentless energy.
A mere stroll from Kadawatha junction, the boy’s journey was woven with the warmth of family as he visited his mother’s kin — cousins, uncles, and aunties. His route meandered through the family’s lands, a legacy of diligence and devotion. Amid these familial bonds, he delighted in the simple joy of harvesting king coconuts, papayas, and their nectar, a cherished tradition, securing them in his bag as he moved along. This ritual, rich with heritage and community, painted a poignant portrait of a life intertwined with the enduring fabric of kinship and legacy.
By midday, he would return home, retracing his steps past the cinema hall, skirting the busier Kohalwila road. With a heart full of contentment, he would present the king coconuts and other bounties from his mother’s ancestral lands to her, each symbol of the enduring ties that bind generations.
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