Boyhoods desires

Yearning to own a toy lorry.

It was in the late 1940’s. I was on one of the return trips to Jaffna after our school holidays at Alupolla estate, Rathnapura, where my father was chief clerk in the estate. The return trip involved getting up early in the morning at about 3oclock. My parents were very strong Christians and were most puritanical. After getting dressed and morning prayers we walked about 3 miles down hill in a clear morning air to Wewelwaththe. Getting a ride in the estate lorry, from here, a distance of 18 miles to the Rathnapura town we arrived at the Rathnapura railway station. The narrow gauge train from Opanayake was due at about 5 am.. It came chugging in on time. The fireman in the engine cab, his face glowing red from the coal fire under the boiler, which he had to constantly replenish with coal. The funnel on top of the boiler where water was led in from an over-head tank by a huge rubber hose, was always a fascination for us children and even quite a few adults. The hiss of steam from the engine at rest, with the engine driver perched on the side of the cab. On the tablet being handed to the engine-driver, the steam valve was opened and the cylinders took the load. It started smoothly or with a judder, depending on the hand at the throttle. As one of my school teachers used to say, the cadence of the train could be imitated by the words “I think-- I can, – I think-- I can, I think – I can, …” going on till the train picked up speed and the smooth roll of the train mimicking the sound “ I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could.” in rapid sequence.

                It was wonderful, the sights and sounds of the Kelani Valley narrow gauge train. First of all it was a train of miniature proportions. Shutters were lifted and put down into the wall of the compartment. Being seated on a wooden bench-type seat facing the engine, one could see the coal powered steam engine, dragging the carriages along and going round curves, over bridges and going through cuttings. The ominous warning “Beware of floods” were there in quite a few places. There were places where the train slowed down and people waiting by the railway-line used to take running leaps onto the stairs leading to the carriages. The king-coconut sellers, the “vadai” sellers etc. were a novel sight at the many stops at the railway stations. The color, the gaiety and pathos of passengers were a real sight. But the most important of all was the superb scenery of tea, rubber estates, the paddy fields and the unending series of rivers and bridges over them. As we approached Colombo the vast array of aerial wires of a transmitting station came to view. This was followed by increasing number of shanty towns till we came to Dematagoda, Maradana and finally arriving at Colombo fort at about 2pm. The rush was now to get out of the platform with all baggage accounted for. This followed crossing over to the other side of the platform, and to wait for the 7pm train to Kankesanturai, this time on the large gauge railway line.

                Long afterwards in life, when I had become a surgeon at the General Hospital Colombo, (now NHSL), I felt that I should impart this experience to about 15 medical students who were “clerking” with me in surgery. This was an attempt by me to break up their mundane life. I gave them a project, take the KV line train to Avissawella, on a Sunday, see the sights, return to Colombo by bus. They had to submit an essay on Monday, about their trip. They did this and enjoyed the trip thoroughly. One of the students wrote that her grand-father used to say, that this train trip was like what was written as instructions, on bottles of medicine in his younger days. ‘You are shaken before you are taken’.

                The wait at the railway station at Fort from 2pm to 7pm made my father to take us to various places in the city like the zoo, the museum, the radio station etc. in addition to the usual pavement shopping.

                It was in one of these pavement shopping sprees with my father, that I saw gleaming on a shelf a toy lorry, with lovely red and blue paint, large headlights of lavish chrome. I wanted it so much that, I vowed that I would not request anything else in life if I had that. My father in his wisdom refused in the gentlest of ways, to buy me that lorry. Looking back now I always remember this incident. It taught me the folly of each age’s cravings. It taught me to look at my desires which looked really absolute at a certain time, as being of a transitory fancy. Long afterwards, when I was taking a class for some doctors, who were doing their diploma in Family medicine, I related this story. At the end of their two week appointment with me, they presented me with a toy lorry, to show their appreciation of my teaching in surgery. I did not have the heart to tell them that this toy plastic lorry, was a long way from my child hood dream lorry, with its brightly painted metal frame and chrome.