Kites rise high. They fall. Sometimes they get blown away. They disappear. Kites get lost. We cry when things are lost. We cry when things that we love are lost. All you need is some determination, if you want to find them back. Things don’t always disappear completely. They leave you something behind. Like kites. They will leave broken strings on the ground. Or its tattered remains and torn sau kola, entangled on a tree or in electricity wires. I remember how buckets hung next door were destroyed last year. It was a rain drenched Vesak. The buckets were gone. But the ‘kambi’ used to hung them were left. Stains cannot be removed completely. They get washed . But they leave a copper brown spot. In least.
Things are lost. Things are forgotten. The forgotten is remembered. The remembered are forgotten. We live on. We perish. But nature has a way of bringing back things . Even after we leave this world.
Three Mondays ago a riped mango fell on my feet. It was eaten by sky creatures. I observed. I t was early morning. I had just stepped out of the house to Hulftsdorp. It’s been two weeks since the Final year at Law College has begun. It was nice listening to Mr .Sarath Jayamanne , now a Solicitor General. He was drinking tea , along with his thoughts. It is equally nice to be with people who are eloquent and funny , moreover same cultural , philosophical and moving with same ideologies.
It was a bright day. The morning sunshine crept through the window giving extra light to the hall. I cannot quite remember what we were exactly discussing. We laughed. There were mumbles on and off. Debates. We fell silent. Mr. Jayamanne made a statement. ‘ We never can get away with what we do. We leave our presence wherever we go’. He sighed. He smiled. Gently.
I don’t recall if he sighed or gasped. But a sigh escaped my lungs. People leave and memories sway like kites , battered by storms . Yet obeying the dictates of gravity. There’s nothing that disobeys nature. How appropriate it is! This is how nature has helped man develop science and technology, I thought. Mr. Jayamanne quoted us a line from a criminal journal he had come across years back. ‘ Api pruthajjana minissu’ (We are laymen). We have no super powers. We cannot hide ourselves from others. We sweat. We have no ‘irdhi balaya’ . Like Buddha did. Like Gods did.
We didn’t have to say ‘yes’. We already knew enough about being lay men and how. There was sufficient knowledge in us to persuade without unnecessary acknowledgements. And this is how Forensics has grown taller. Criminals cannot escape. Even the dead. Because we are lay men – we are laymen! The ‘something’ left behind is greater evidence. It always makes investigators happy. It could be a finger print , a foot print , blood , bruise , a knife or gun left , a broken glass , piece of cloth , hair , fibers or semen. Even tire tracks and bite marks. Nature is incredible enough to let leave our traces where ever we go.
Two Mondays ago , there was no reason to remember of such leaving with traces. But it was strange that time when I was holding a cup of water, to think how oils from my sweat glands collect on the cup. How oils and other materials on my fingers are left on the surface of the objects I touch. The decoration left by these substances, which collect along the ridges on our fingers, make up fingerprints. Same with sweat. Even saliva that is released to air when talking combines with other structures around. There is ‘you’ and ‘I’ formed everywhere in a pattern. They remain fixed for life. This is what helps science today to identify wrong doers, the dead and left. You will find yourself there in a broken glass , the soil and anything. Be afraid. Be very afraid now.
There are Mondays so long gone which I cannot name them. Even Saturdays, Sundays and Wednesdays too. Every day I touched. I walked. I sweat.
There is a line quoted by lovers in love, love – broken and love poetry. It says ‘ oba mage suwanda aragena yanna’ ( Take the smell of my breath with you) or else ‘ mama obe suwanda aragena yannam’( I take the smell of your breath ) . We meet people. Some stay. Some part us very early. Some stray in our hearts. It is nice to part people with memories. A few days old, I realized we leave not only memories , even the breath, the smell, the sweat and everything possible to leave . There is a chemical composition exchanged every time we talk face to face, touch or smell another.
Right now , my smile is wide. I don’t know the reason why I smile. All I know is there's possibility that Mondays later I will meet you. I may take a portion of your breath , your smell and sweat with me . And you will take mine . Whether you like it or not.
First published in The Nation newspaper , March 8th 2015
