Lives at the borders are nothing like the lives elsewhere. This is a lil story about them. About the ones who cling on to life... like this delicate flower *I think it's a flower* fluttering in the air.. hanging on to an invisible web fibril.
Location: at the lil school we dropped by in Hingurakgoda
They survive in an arid territory.. stained with a heartrending history. This is the shocking tale of the village called Sungawila, which happened many years ago, when the land was cursed with the plague called terrorism. I'll be relating this story as I heard from my punchi (mom's youngest sis), while en route to Somawathie.
If you think you can't stomach a shocking tale, then please skip the below paras *yep, they're invisible as I've put them in white* and check out the rest of it and the pics instead. For those who wish to read, simply highlight the text below or simply press the keys, CTRL + A.. and you'll be able to read.
Long time ago.. Somawathie Chedi used to have four temples built right around, bordered by the strict Somawathie nature reserve. The site underwent an invasion by a minority group with Mughal descent, who destroyed these temples and built their own religious sites and a village on top of them. Sungawila became their haven. The village thrived, it was peaceful, but not for long. As terrorist activities grew in the area, the inhabitants were constantly in fear, fear of their lives, of children, of weak and elderly.
And then.. came the fateful day. Early morning on this day some folks went from door to door asking them to assemble at the ground next to the village. Perhaps they were told they'd receive some rations, as survival became hard those days. They all gathered happily, every single one of them, from the youngest infant to the oldest folks and even the sick and the weak.
And then.. came the fateful moment. A blizzard... a bloody one.. swept past each one. They were sliced, diced, mutilated in broad daylight. Perhaps they didn't even have time to scream or yell or plea to spare their lives. Not a single life was spared.. not even the babies or the pregnant moms or the frail old men and women. The site was bathed in crimson blood.. by the hands of terrorists.. on that fateful day.
Next the terrorists vandalized the Somawathie chedi, killed the surviving monks, stole the 'Chuda Manikya' (the large gem stone that sits at the pinnacle of the stupa). But they couldn't get away with it. As per the high priest of Somawathie, a big elephant came dashing out of the forest, grabbed the gem stone from them and trampled the terrorists. Then it hid the stone carefully. Some say the terrorists shot each other out of insanity and all died and got buried under sand.
Time stood still.. for months and years.. until our heroes freed our motherland completely from the clutches of terrorism. During excavations the archeologists and workers discovered the Chuda Manikya (a large gem stone, that sits on the pinnacle of a stupa) hidden inside the nature reserve, well preserved for all these years. And today they have restored the Somawathie Chedi (that enshrines the right tooth relic of our Lord Buddha) completely to its former glory.
So what about the lost village of Sungawila? This is what I found...
when we passed through..
And reached here..
where we found... the new Sungawila!
The once lost Sungawila village today has thatched roofs standing on slender sticks.. here and there.
The inhabitants are probably the relatives of the perished, who used to call Sungawila their home.
The land is not theirs.. as per the law of the country.
This is called encroachment.. as per the law books.
But they too are humans.. struggling for survival.
Posters dazzle in bright tones in front of these gloomy haunted village, where folks here keep a low profile during day and come out after dark. Dignitaries only visit rarely, grinning from ear to ear bringing meager incentives.. all for the sake of a vote or two. And then.. they forget.
Forget the existence of this lil village. Forget about these people who cling on to life.. with all they've got.
How about a small plot, a proper one for each family? Materials to build a proper home? Livelihood to support their loved ones? Aren't they a part of our motherland too?
