Through the night, dark…

“Where are you going at this hour Ayya (sir)?”

Ramalingam is beaming with blithe in a new Verti and a shamrock green kurta, ready for the Vel festival in Blackwood Sri Muthu Mariyamman Kovil. But still he needed to know whether he was talking with an insane person or not. Well, can’t blame him for being cautious since no sane person would ride through the curvy edges and thick mist on the Badulla road at night.

Yes, I’m the crazy lone rider who chose to ride 220 kilometers from Colombo to Badulla on my Royal Enfield at night. At around 10 PM I was passing Beragala and just after a curve on the road, a translucent sight welcomed me. The people of the village were celebrating the Vel festival.

“Ukkarunga ayya (Sir)”

I was admiring the view of Vel on the back of a tractor, illuminated with myriad light bulbs in various colors. Ramalingam and his friend were sitting on a bunting wayside. Despite the fact that I was way under dressed to match the festive mood, he invited me to sit with them. And I could feel the curious eyes of the people on me, people who all dressed up elegantly with gradients of bright colors, flowers and beaming faces. I could feel the happy vibes in the air. 

Colors through the dark

As in the Sinhala language, “Muthu” means pearls in Tamil. Mariamman or the “Mother Mari” or the “Mother Goddess of rain” came to Sri Lanka with the Tamil populace from India. Mariamman was a village deity once but soon she became a predominant mother goddess in Tamil Nadu and Thirucherai rural lands. The legend says that Kali went to Southern India as Mariamman, and Bhairava followed her as Madurai Veeran, who is another southern folk deity. Another legend says that Mariamman was in fact a Buddhist nun from Nagapattinam, who used to sit under a Neem tree and do penance when people were suffering from smallpox. At least that’s how Ramalingam remembered the story.

The Vel

“Tell me about the village Thambi” I wanted to know more.

Then an elder gentleman approached.

“Beragala is one of the most beautiful lands in Sri Lanka putha. The climate is mild, the sceneries are breathtaking. But one shouldn’t be fooled by her beauty. That same beauty could be deadly. You’ve heard of the landslides near this area, noh?” He is like the wise man from the hill.

“We all work hard for the living. Developments are happening around but in a slow phase. We, people as communities have our own societies but people should gather together more and more for what need to be done for the communities, rather than placing all the hopes on politicians. Will see.”

I looked at him. The snow of wisdom was on his head and on his face.

“Nevertheless, here we are; happy in new dresses and all. So let’s savor the moment.” It was a heat to heart moment. “If you can stay somewhere near and leave in the morning, better. Road to Badulla at night is not the joyful ride you expect Putha. Sooner the mist will fall and you wouldn’t be able to see more than two feet, and needless to mention the bends just next to steep braes. If you must go, just be extra careful”

He was concerned. They know the roads and the land better than I, the crazy stranger on a bike. I wanted to stay till they start the Vel parade. But he was right. Still I have many miles to cover before the midnight.

“Naan Poittu Varen Thambi, Naan Poittu varen Mama”

“Kavanamaha poittu vanga anna (elder brother)” Ramalingam replied with a heartfelt smile. I smiled back and shook his hand. We met half an hour ago as strangers but we are parting as brothers. That’s something.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It takes a different kind of bravery to try something like riding a motorbike in pitch black, through a road that threaten you in every turn with steep falls and sharp turns. The line between ‘being gutsy’ and ‘being insane or stupid’ would disappear quickly. No matter how experienced rider you are, the road ahead will find new ways to intimidate you.

‘What could happen if you are too fast on a hairpin curve’ or ‘what would happen if you are too close to the unprotected edge of the road next to a steep fall’ are not the only things that could make you afraid. The worse thing is being lonely on the road. It’s just you and your ride. Nobody, but you is insane enough to drive through the curvy road at this hour! And you are on your own!!

That’s when my friend, you realize the true meaning of being all alone. You cannot find comfort on distracting yourself by thinking of the happy faces of your family or the warmth of your sweetheart. The road demands your undivided attention road yet the loneliness and the darkness find a ways to crawl into you. But what else can you do? The moment you stop paying attention to the every detail of the next few meters of the asphalt lightened up with your head beam, that could very well be the end of your story!

Of course once in every 10 or 20 kilometers the welcoming sight of another motorcar coming towards you will make your heart ease a bit. It’s like seeing a friend who wave at you in an unknown land and disappears into the night next moment. Sometimes you will encounter a lorry trying to climb the hill road near Haputale, groaning, mewling with the pains of the old age. But for the most part of the ride, you are alone with your bike. And you start to listen to the heartbeat of the beast you are riding.

Dhug..Dhug..Dhug..Dhug..!

And you would whisper to the beast that you are not afraid since you have him.

A brave rider you are! You are not afraid to the road in the night anymore.

Just few miles to Badulla and few minutes to the midnight…