Train ride to the hills
Two lads come of age during a trip to the country
It was the era of the super seventies. I was in my first job as a rookie nineteen-year-old in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Abba and Santana were the raging music stars. Weekends were partying, music shows, hanging out with friends and country trips. I was enjoying my youth and discovering the world.
Rajah and Edward
Rajah and I were friends from our school-going days when we wore short pants, lasting a few years. The other friend in this story, Edward, and I met after I started working. Edward worked in a hotel while Rajah spent his time at home trying to figure out his future, restoring an old 1950s Fiat in his backyard. At other times, Rajah was sewing his clothes and working on his mother’s Singer sewing machine.
Both Rajah and Edward were from my home village in my neighbourhood. Rajah and I were bone skinny, and fair in complexion relative to dark Sri Lankans. Edward was dark, well-built with curly hair, and looked like an Afro-American. He was also a couple of years older than the two of us and had more life experiences.
Trip Planning
The hill country was the ultimate holiday destination in Sri Lanka with its cold climate, flushed with green and curated tea plantations. It was famous for its fantastic sceneries, train rides and holiday bungalows. Rajah, Edward, and I planned a holiday trip to the hill country. Our first stop was Talawakelle, a city with waterways and waterfalls. My uncle Arthur, my father’s cousin and his wife, Jasmine, ran a holiday home that provided food and accommodation in that city. After a few days at my uncle’s holiday home, our next stop was Nuwara Eliya, a pinnacle holiday destination in the hills. I wrote a postcard to Uncle Arthur notifying him of our plans to visit, seeking free accommodation.
The train ride and 1st stop
On a Friday evening, we headed to Colombo central railway station and boarded the night train to the hill country. The train was packed with city workers returning to their homes in the hills region for the weekend. On the crowded country train, Rajah and I found a single seat. We slept on that single seat, huddled together among the pressing crowds. Commuters were sleeping everywhere, on the seats and the floor. Edward stayed up through the ride, smoking and watching guard for our bags. It was a long ride on the rickety train fuelled by smoking coal. Early the next day, we landed at the Talawakelle railway station, some 150 kilometres away from Colombo.
Tallawakelle
It was a short walk to my uncle’s holiday home. We unpacked our bags in the room my uncle had arranged for us. The weather was cold, and the scenery was beautiful. We settled into the sizeable multi-room home, enjoying my uncle Arthur’s and his wife Jesmine’s hospitality.
During the day, we swam in the Kotmale waterway by the side of the holiday home. Sometimes twice a day. We watched hobby fishermen fishing on the channel under the bridge. On the second day, we toured a waterfall and a tea estate. It was pure joy for three days when we unleashed ourselves into the suburb of Talawakelle, returning to the holiday home for rest, food and comforts.
The staff at the holiday home were tirelessly helpful, going out of their way to serve and please us. They were my uncle’s relatives, mainly from my paternal grandmother’s village in Giriulla. My distant cousins and uncles, wearing white shirts and sarongs, were serving one of their own from their family clan. They were happy to see me. I felt terrible about them, knowing they were financially disadvantaged, hailing from rural Sri Lanka. Everything I asked, they served with joy. Even liquor and cigarettes for the evening, in moderate amounts, when the three of us shared a drink unknown to my uncle. It was a fabulous time, virtually at zero cost.
On the third day and the last evening, Edward felt the urge to drink gin. He worked in a five-star hotel and knew his liquor more than I and Rajah. He wanted a full bottle, and this was not something the staff could sneak out. It had to be paid for in cash. We had money, but that was for our next stop at Nuwara Eliya, when we had to pay for everything. Edward bought the bottle of gin on credit from my uncle’s stock, with me guaranteeing payment on return home. We drank the bottle between the three of us, the lion’s share by Edward. It was the first time I drank gin, the water-like solid liquid.
On the next day, we headed to the next destination in our itinerary after bidding farewell to my uncle, aunty and the friendly staff. The travel was again by train from Talawakelle to Nanu Oya railway station. The trip took nearly two hours.
The 2nd stop — the ultimate destination
We headed to Nuwara Eliya town by bus on landing at the rail station. We walked to our chosen accommodation, a large house with a huge garden by the side of the lake, on a hill. The place was majestic, built in the colonial style of the British era. It had massive arches and large windows. In the middle of the house was a fireplace. The housekeeper cum caretaker, a middle-aged, balding male, was super helpful. We settled into a large room with two double-sized beds and a fireplace.
It was mid-day, and we had a quick lunch at the colonial bungalow and headed into Nuwara Eliya town. Mid-day temperature was around twenty degrees, cold in a tropical country. We roamed the city, to the shops. There was nothing much to do. Looking for the next adventure and place to visit, we then headed to Hakgala botanical gardens by bus.
We walked around the beautiful garden, grasping the beauty of flora and fauna, and stopping to enjoy the scenery. It was a vast garden to navigate.
Three becomes five — new friends.
Two beautiful girls about our age appeared from nowhere. They were giggling and interesting. One wore bell bottoms and the other in a dress. Edward, with his usual bravado, approached them first. Suddenly we found ourselves chatting with them in earnest. The eldest of the two, Yvonne, was now hanging out with Edward. The younger girl was interested in Rajah and me.
The five of us were now a crowd. We walked together, exploring the garden and its beauty and enjoying the sunshine cutting through the cold weather. Suddenly the younger girl, Anne, put her hands around Rajah and me, walking with us in the middle, two of us on either side. In Sri Lanka, boys and girls do not hang out publicly, but this was a bold statement by Anne. Perhaps she found comfort in both of us. The elder girl, Yvonne, talked only with Edward, and both were conversing deeply.
Anne and Yvonne were also on holiday and were looking for a place to stay for two nights. Rajah and I liked Anne; we were impulsive and offered to share our accommodation with them. Our two new friends, Yvonne and Anne, took up our offer. We were now a little group of five instead of the three before, planning to share accommodation and good times. We spent that afternoon in the garden, walking around and enjoying the scenery.
Edward and Yvonne went in a separate directions in the garden. Rajah and I sat by a water pool with Anne. The three of us talked a lot about music, families and aspirations. By late afternoon, it started drizzling. We decided to go back to the bungalow after joining Edward and Yvonne. In the slight drizzle, we walked back to the bungalow.
The caretaker did not object to us coming back with two girls. Edward pretended that Anne and Yvonne were our cousin sisters. We had a tasty meal that night, cooked by the bungalow’s cooks and served by the caretaker with great care. Beef curry, that night had never tasted better in my life. The bungalow staff were tremendous and determined to give us a good experience of their hospitality.
Yvonne shared her bed with Edward, her new beau, that cold night. Rajah and I were the skinny lads, so we shared our bed with Anne. With the fireplace running, it was a comfortable night, cuddled next to each other, enjoying each other’s warmth. We slept nestled in this grand bungalow, in a large room once used by the British rulers a few decades earlier.
Fun times
The next day was full of sunshine. Rajah, Anne and I took off heading to town. Edward and Yvonne stayed back in the house, doing their thing. We walked past the lake and then the park. Horses and mules were available for rides through ostlers at the park. We decided to ride them, despite having no experience riding horses. I rode with Anne and nearly fell off my horse. Rajah rode on his horse. The horses had been trained to ride slow with amateurs like us, with the ostler following us closely on his horse.
Then we headed to town to go to a beer garden, the first time I had been to a beer garden. After a schooner each, including Anne, who surprisingly had no qualms about drinking a beer with the boys, we walked into an eatery in town and had lunch. Then we walked back to the bungalow on foot, grasping and absorbing the beauty in the area.
We were exhausted from the previous night and had a long afternoon nap. Unfortunately, Edward and Yvonne were not seen when we got up. They returned at about seven pm. They had gone to see a movie in town.
The three of us, Rajah, me and Anne, could not imagine being sweet. We could be kind and sweet to each other. We were selflessly sweet to each other, sweet in our hearts, sweet without malice, sweet in our bodies. We were like little children without shame or irony. It was like paradise. I did not know whether I was a boy or a girl; the three of us were in unison, mind and body.
We spent the night again huddled together, enjoying the slow heat from the fireplace.
Next day. Yvonne and Anne were leaving mid-day. They had been fabulous travel companions; we went with them to town and put them on a bus heading to Badulla, a city on the eastern hill part of Sri Lanka. So it was with mixed feelings we bid farewell to the two of them, our short-lived holiday buddies.
We returned to the bungalow. It was time to check how much money was left with us and what our bills were. Between the three of us, we had enough money to pay the caretaker for our food and accommodation, but it left very little to spare after accounting for our return train fare.
Rajah and I slept again in the afternoon to make up for the little sleep from the last two nights. With much effort, the caretaker made his last meal for us a fabulous dinner again with upcountry beef. After dinner, we took the last bus and came to Nanu Oya railway station, our last stop, before we headed home on the night train at 9 p.m.
Stranded
Alas, to our disappointment, the night train had already departed. There was only one train to Colombo at night, and we missed it. We had a mix-up with the timetables. The next train was in the morning the next day. With no money to rent a room near the station and Nuwara Eliya town, many kilometres away, we could only return to the bungalow for a quick sleep morning. We were left orphaned and homeless at the station.
The station master at the railway station took pity on the three hapless lads with no money and no place to sleep for the night. “Son,’ he addressed me. “You boys can sleep in the luggage room next door; there is a trolley and a bench. You should get some rest tonight; it will get freezing”. We thanked him and jumped on the idea, Rajah and me sleeping on the bench, Edward sleeping on the long luggage trolley. It was a cold night with no fireplace. Freezing air was coming through the grills, unabated to attack us. Rajah and I slept huddled together, wearing multiple pants and jackets to avoid goosebumps. It was a failed attempt.
The next day, we boarded the morning train to Colombo at seven. By late afternoon, we returned to our homes in Colombo, hungry, exhausted and all our money depleted. With hardly any sleep in the last three days, I had never felt so much love for my bed. I slept for sixteen hours at home until my worried mother woke me up mid-day.
Finally, home and a demand letter
Every story has a twist. I was supposed to collect thirty Rupees from Edward and return it to my uncle. Unfortunately, Edward chose to forget the episode of the bottle of gin and its debt and ignore my reminders. After about a month, a demand letter and an account statement came from my uncle asking to pay the credit account for the bottle of gin. It was a curt letter, an embarrassment, something I did not want my father to know. I had guaranteed Edward’s debt to my uncle, so I sent a postal money order squaring the debt.
The annoying debt was paid off, and I learnt an important life lesson at nineteen.
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