Cancer victim and Mr. Vyrakkara

At Home – Part III

By Ransiri Menike Silva

When Peeping Tom’s room fell vacant it was snapped up by a terminally ill cancer patient from the South. She was not elderly like we were but it was inconvenient and weakening for her to travel to the cancer hospital in Maharagama on regular clinic days. It was rented out to her on grounds of compassion. As soon as the room fell vacant we all rushed in to examine it in detail. It was spacious and airy and we looked into every nook and cranny, bed and cupboards, tables and chairs to give our collective approval. The repairman, cleaners and painters moved in and when it was in sparkling order, it was decontaminated.

My new neighbour was sociable but quiet. She could not easily attend to tasks like visiting the local GP for minor ailments, going to the eye surgeon and the optician and such, because it tired her. We collectively found her our loyal trishaw man Ranjan, to be at her disposal whenever the need arose. He was kind and caring and readily cancelled already booked hires to accommodate her. One day he approached me privately and requested that I accompany her on these trips for he realised that she could not handle them on her own. She was very grateful when I offered my services as an escort and so I became an essential prop for her.

My presence helped her immensely. I would sometimes leave her in the vehicle with Ranjan standing by, to attend to the preliminaries and request special attention from the various establishments she visited, for their client, whose ‘disability’ I revealed. All unfailingly obliged. Both of us would be accommodated in comfortable seats, in an airy reception room, to be taken in only when our turn was announced. Often we would be taken in early, breaking the queue, after I had explained her condition to them. The optician, in particular, would wheel in a mobile unit for eye testing and choose a frame for her new spectacles.

I was amazed at the kindness displayed by our people, especially Ranjan, who, unrequested by me, would persuade other parked vehicle owners to give us room, help her in and out of the buildings and even hail passing mobile vendors to enable her to make her purchases directly from them. Observing all these, I realised how much more I could still learn from the average citizen. Ranjan always quoted a low fare for his services but I persuaded her to give him something extra, not only for his kindness but as she could afford to do so as well. She came from a well-to-do family, was not miserly and even shared food items, like fruits, with us.

When her family visited her, she told them all about my ‘services’ and they came over to offer me their appreciation and gratitude. During that meeting, I found out that her brothers and my cousins had studied together at one of the leading Buddhist Colleges in Galle. Her condition gradually deteriorated and she had to be warded at the cancer hospital. She passed away soon after, thankfully without pain. The family decided not to hold her funeral in the distant hometown but hold it at the cemetery near the hospital. Ranjan brought us a van in which we all travelled to attend the simple last rites. Our landlord organised a Bana and an alms-giving at the local temple on the seventh day to which we all contributed and attended in Ranjan’s van.

In the different ‘Homes’ I had resided in, there were rooms – single, sharing or small units for married couples. An unforgettable such couple was Mr Vyrakkara and his sick wife, who lived upstairs while I occupied a ground floor room. I had not seen her but he was constantly seen or heard, toting the ill repute he carried with him all along. As a ‘naki manamalaya’, his sexual adventures were common knowledge, related by the young pony-tailed trishaw man he regularly hired.

The couple were sort of ‘founding members’ and so accorded special privileges. Their unit, which had a sitting and dining area separated from the bedroom, was spacious. We all had our attached bathrooms. The wife was supposed to be truly elephantine, as the carers described her, due to some health issue, and had to be spoon-fed mashed food. Unwilling to totter the few steps to the washroom all her ablutionary needs had to be attended to in the room. As the husband found this disgusting he had her screened off by a curtain during these sessions. However, he had to attend to them if necessary at night because no maid was safe from his amorous advances.

But he, the wily fox, knew how to circumvent this. ‘Pony-tail’ revealed that he was very familiar with the ‘Red Light’ district of that area and knew every brothel. If he was in a ‘perky’ mood he would dismiss the vehicle and stay on as long as he desired. At other times he would hire a prostitute of his choice to visit him at ‘home’. She had to walk in during visiting hours, go up to the room, and unnoticed by his wife, hide under his bed. She had had prior warning to dine early. When all the day’s activity in the room was over another ‘show’ took over. Well aware of the institution’s daily schedule, she would get up at dawn and wait until the doors and gates were open to scoot out in semi-darkness. Single women strolling along the road at that unearthly hour was an indication of their profession and so she would proceed unmolested.

The ‘naki manamalaya’ was also a boaster. He claimed that he had retired from the Army. I laughed when I heard this. How come they were not provided with appropriate accommodation by the forces? What were his Regiment and rank? He was not even aware of them. Gentle probing unearthed that he had been a civilian employed by the Army. As he was fluent in English he may have been a clerk or typist. On the other hand, he could have been a member of the working gang of labourers who were brought by the truckload to clean up gardens and attend to repairs both electrical and otherwise. They wore shorts and banians, came with mammoties and ekel brooms and worked until their mid-morning tea which was doled out from a delivery truck. At lunchtime, they stopped work, climbed into the waiting trucks and were taken back to camp. Looking at him from afar I would speculate on the possibility of him having once cleaned out my own cesspit!