Hasitha Adhikariarachchi
“Will she ever settle in one place and concentrate on learning?”
An expression of worry marked Thalatha’s face. Her small, beautiful eyes with long lashes were sleepy. Her thick curly hair, long enough to fall to her waist, was messed up. Her days had been like that for the last two years since giving birth to her younger daughter. Her two daughters were born six years apart. With the youngest’s arrival, Thalatha once again felt the tenderness of a newborn’s skin, the smell of baby cologne, and the joy of an infant’s smile.
Everytime Thalatha sees the big black eyes of her baby girl, a traditional Sinhalese lullaby appears in her head.
දොයි දොයි දොයි දොයිය බබා
බයි බයි බයි බයිය බබා
නුඹේ අම්මා කිරට ගියා
කිරි එරවා එන්න ගියා
කිරි මුට්ටිය ගඟේ ගියා
ගඟට උඩින් කොක්කු ගියා
Sleep sleep, sleep, baby.
Nap nap nap baby
Your mother went to bring some milk
She will bring milk in a pot
A pot of milk is floating in the river
There are white birds flying over the river
She remembered her first baby girl as a two-year-old—she was gentle and quiet. She didn’t run around. Thalatha could keep her on a mat on the floor. Thalatha would give some soft toy to the baby, and she would play with the toy, letting Thalatha also sit on the mat, relax, and even read a book.
The youngest daughter, on the contrary, ran everywhere. She cried when she is sad, hurt, or angry. Thalatha had to run around those little feet. If she didn’t keep an eye on them, they would run somewhere. Everything was a toy for her, even the පිට්ටු බබ්බුව (metal vessel for making a traditional dish called Pittu). Thalatha started to write about her younger daughter in the diary in her first year. Thalatha wrote how her little pink fingers look like rosebuds or how she would cover herself in poop! But this year Thalatha could not spare anytime to write as she was always busy running after the youngest one.
Only god knows how Thalatha had been scared for the little one! Recently, she came running to Thalatha and said, “තෝත තෝත පාට කෑවා” (thotha thotha paata kawaa). The only edible pink thing at home was Salbutamol, a medicine her husband had been taking for asthma. Thalatha could not imagine the effect of such strong medicine on a two-year-old. She picked the baby girl, ran inside the house, and inspected the pills in the plastic box. Well, all the Salbutamol pills were there, but an entire pack of fish oil was empty.
Thalatha had been giving prescribed doses of fish oil to her daughters as a food supplement, and the youngest one really loved it. Thalatha knew what had happened. Her little daughter had swallowed the entire pack of fish oil! Thalatha remained calm, took the girl to the bathroom, lifted her to the sink, then put a finger into her throat and made her vomit. The little girl threw up, and Thalatha noticed the pieces of fish oil capsules. She took the girl to a doctor, and the doctor told her not to worry, especially since now she had vomited out all the oil.
Thalatha could not imagine how her younger daughter managed to reach the box of medicine. The baby was growing fast, and she was curious. Thalatha knew she had to be extra careful with this girl, unlike her older daughter, the gentle and sensible girl.
One day, Thalatha gave a set of Sinhalese letters made of plastic to her younger daughter. Thalatha had used the same set with her older daughter, and she could read part of the Sinhalese alphabet even before she went to school. Thalatha wanted to teach some letters to her younger daughter as well because නැකතට අකුරු කියවීම (the traditional ceremony of reading letters) had already been held by that time. Thalatha couldn’t stop smiling as she thought about what happened during that small ceremony. The ritual was designed to educate the child by having someone help them read and write the first letter of the Sinhalese alphabet. Sri Lankan-Sinhalese believe this ceremony held at a predetermined auspicious time brings good luck for the kid to excel in studies.
Thalatha wanted her mother (both Thalatha and her mother were school teachers) to read the first letter of the Sinhalese alphabet, the letter ‘අ’, as per the ritual to her daughter on the auspicious time. They had bought a new book with the Sinhalese alphabet, a new writing book, and a new pencil. However, her naughty little girl refused to read the first letter with her grandmother; instead, she took the pencil and started drawing on the book, and the auspicious time passed by.
No matter how hard they tried, she refused. “ලොකු දුව, කොහොම හරි අයන්න ලියවන්න” (elder daughter, somehow make your sister write the letter ‘අ’), Thalatha told her eight-year-old elder daughter, who was already in school by that time. The older daughter managed to guide her little sister’s right hand to write the Sinhalese letter ‘අ’”. Ok! The writing was done, but the ceremony was incomplete until the naughty little girl reads the letter ‘අ’.
They again tried to make the little girl read the first letter with her grandmother. “එපා! එපා!” (No! no!). The little girl pushed away from her grandmother’s hands and continued her drawing. The book’s open pages, which were supposed to have the Sinhalese letters written on them, were now filled with scribbles. Thalatha’s husband suddenly pointed his index finger to the letter ‘අ’ printed on the alphabet book and said: “අයන්න” (letter අ) and the little girl repeated what her father said.
“Yay! Finally, she read it!” The ceremony was then complete, and Thalatha was happy.
Today, Thalatha had been trying to teach some Sinhalese letters to the younger daughter, but the little girl threw away the plastic letters and ran to her sister. “Will she ever settle in one place and concentrate on learning?”
Thalatha knew she had to take a different approach to teach her younger daughter. Teaching the older daughter was easy—she was calm, stayed in one place, and concentrated on the task. The younger one, however, was dreamy and naughty. She loved කට වහරේ ජන කතා (folk stories that were passed down generations through reciting) Thalatha told her while feeding her rice. Thalatha knew she had to market the learning process with some stories. Otherwise, the naughty little girl would not buy it!
The next day, Thalatha went to a bookshop and purchased a new Sinhalese alphabet made of plastic in a different colour. She also bought shiny wrapping paper. At home, she waited till her younger daughter fell asleep. She wrapped the box of plastic letters and hid it under her daughter’s pillow. The next morning, her younger daughter was all excited to see the shimmery gift!
“මනෙකා සුරංගනාවි තමයි ඒ තෑග්ග ඔයාට තියලා ගියේ. මනෙකා සුරංගනාවි කීවා ඔයාට අකුරු ඉගෙන ගන්න කියලා”. (It’s a gift for you from a fairy called Maneka! She wants you to learn the alphabet)
The little round face with plump cheeks and big bright eyes was now filled with excitement to have received a gift from a fairy!
(If you wonder how Thalatha picked the name for the fairy, well, ‘Maneka Gandhi’ is an Indian politician quite famous in the 1980s and still active even today. Thalatha’s elder daughter suggested that name.)
With the fairytale approach, Thalatha was able to get her naughty little girl to focus on learning the alphabet. She already knew most of the letters by the time she entered school. She learned the rest of the Sinhalese alphabet faster than the other students, and she even read උම්මග්ග ජාතකය, the longest Buddhist jataka tale, when she was just seven years old. After all, who can ignore a gift from a fairy?
After many years, Thalatha’s younger daughter learned who the මනෙකා සුරංගනාවි (fairy Maneka) really was. Today, the daughter believes her mother is the real fairy in her life! And that naughty little girl who is a grown-up woman now wrote this note to let her mother know how special she is!
