(Excerpted from Falling Leaves , anecdotal memoirs of LC Arulpragasam) I happened to be the Assistant Government Agent in the Batticaloa District in 1956. At that time, Lahugala was part of the Batticaloa District. If I may be allowed to digress a bit, I had not thought about this oddity till a chena cultivator from Lahugala came to the Batticaloa Kachcheri seeking a divorce under the Kandyan Marriages Ordinance.
Fortunately, I had served in the Kandy District and knew the legal provisions of this Ordinance. I was curious as to how a Kandyan person could fall within the confines of the Batticaloa District, a Tamil/Muslim district. So I took the trouble to read the old diaries of the Government Agents of that time.
What I found aroused my historical interest further, as to how boundaries – most colonial boundaries – were drawn. The Government Agents of the Uva Province and of the Eastern Province had been instructed to delineate their common boundaries together. They started from the Badulla District (Uva Province, which was a rich plantation province in colonial times) in charge of a senior Government Agent (presumably an older man), while the GA of the Eastern Province must have been much junior in service and in years.
The diaries make interesting reading. To the best of my recollection (some 67 years later!), after some three days of riding on horseback or walking, they shot a leopard (or was it a bear?), while on the next day they bathed in a water-hole. After about a week of trekking through thick jungles, they were both quite tired – and the older GA of Uva could go no farther! I can almost imagine his likely words: “O.
K., son, why don’t you take over from here?” And thus the 64 boundary came to be drawn, giving Lahugala, a Kandyan area, to a predominantly Tamil/Muslim province/district. I revert from this digression to my wonder-filled day in Lahugala! I happen to be a lover of jungles and of water – be it lake, lagoon or sea.
I owned a small aluminum boat (a small, light skiff) which could be put on the hood-rack of my small Morris Minor car. Whenever I went for a weekend to someplace by the water, I would take it with me. In Lahugala there were both jungle and water: for there was an irrigation reservoir surrounded by thick jungle.
The ‘tank’ could be reached only by a rough dirt road that led to a rather primitive (very rough) circuit bungalow. It was a lonely and beautiful spot, far away from any habitation. In the evenings, at the far end of the tank, elephants would come down to feed on the long grass and drink water.
It did not take long for me to realize that with my little skiff I could get closer up to them. Nor would they expect anyone to reach them by water, enabling me to get very close without them being able to touch me! There was also another attraction. At another end of the tank, there were four or five large trees, devoid of any leaves and long since dead.
On their skeletal remains there were flocks of white water birds of many different types, probably nesting there, since this was their usual nesting season. These skeletal trees were not accessible by land because of the thick jungle that enshrouded them; but I reckoned that I could reach them in my little skiff. So one weekend, I decided to give it a try.
Having left my wife and little daughter at the circuit bungalow, I set out one afternoon in my little aluminum skiff to get a closer look at the nesting birds and the wild elephants. I soon found that the going was very tough, since the tank (reservoir) was choked with water lilies at this point, whose leaves grew almost on top of each other – so that the water could hardly be seen. I was actually paddling on lily leaves and not on water, putting my oars consciously on the lily pads and heaving my skiff over them, making a loud scraping noise with my little aluminum boat.
But there was worse to come: for just as I was putting my oar on a lily pad, I saw a little nest on top of it. It was hardly a nest, sporting only a single strand of weed barely around two small, brown-speckled eggs. I was taken by surprise.
I had hardly gone two yards when I came upon another, then another, and another! By this time I had to look carefully before I 65 dared put my paddle on to a lily pad, lest I damaged the ‘nests’ of these little birds. I thus found myself floundering clumsily amidst a host of water lilies and little birds’ nests. I hesitated to go on lest I do more damage; but there was clear water ahead.
Hence, I decided to go ahead with my plans. Finally, I approached the other end of the reservoir, approaching the trees that hosted the nests of so many white water birds. What assailed me, first, was the stench of their droppings in the stagnant water.
The next thing I saw was that all the birds had taken aloft, forming a white cloud over me, emitting shrill cries of alarm. As I came closer, I could see row upon row of nests on every branch of the skeletal trees, with 8 -10 nests on every branch. Drawing closer still, I was horrified to see that the nestlings, some just born and with hardly any feathers, scared by the alarm-cries of their mothers, were leaping out of their nests to certain death in the waters below.
I was horrified at the result of my inadvertent and clumsy intrusion into their habitat. I had only wanted to see these birds at close range: but I had unwittingly participated in a massacre. So I hurriedly tried to turn my boat around.
Since it was not easily maneuverable, I impulsively jumped into the water to turn it around. As I jumped in, however, I trod on some animal, which took off with a snort from under my feet. ‘My God, crocodile’, I thought with alarm, and scrambled hastily back into the boat.
Only to find that it was a big, fat wild boar, which had been wallowing contentedly in the shallow water, blissfully unaware of my approach. With a sigh of relief, I rowed hurriedly from the scene of my unwitting crime! Despite this debacle, I remembered that I still had a date with the elephants at another corner of the reservoir. As expected, eventide had brought them to the water, where they were drinking and disporting themselves, squirting water all around.
They had not seen me coming, never expecting anyone to come by water. Elephants are known to be short-sighted, although their sense of smell is strong. Nevertheless, I was able to approach them at fairly close range, for a ring-side seat.
There were seven of them, including two calves. As I had imagined to myself, I could even wiggle my fingers from my nose, without them being able to touch me because of the deep water in-between. This wonderful sight was short-lived, however, since some time after sighting me, they took off to their jungle fastness, not to be seen again.
I was fortunately able to repeat this feat again some forty years later on another continent (Africa) at Fothergill Island in Lake Victoria (Zimbabwe), where I was able to get very close to a 66 dangerous bull elephant, by approaching it from water. Now in my ripe old age, I can only reminisce at leisure. But I am still filled with wonder at that wonder-filled day in Lahugala some 68 years ago!.
