THE BOY WHO DIDN’T FEAR DEATH

By Haala Marikar King Remind Sri me Wikrama of a happy Rajasinghe’s past, glinting eyes To To one a happy year life ago that my didn’t memory last... flies Ehelephola All her long, Kumarihami, black hair must Angel be in really Paradise prized She Small has feet lovely, and tiny soft toes eyes, and a shapely nose, She wore heaps of anklets and pearls Which envied many women and girls, She wore a golden sari with sequins across, Nothing about her appearance made her look gross She laughed a breathtaking silvery laugh, She stood up, her slim body with no help of a staff, Held my dusty, dark hands in her warm, soft ones, Her jewellery rattling and shining in the sun I was led across through many furnished rooms, All around me the shade of heaven loomed, Then I and Kumarihami saw a boy of about my age, Wearing rich clothes of gold and beige. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked in that princely voice of his, I answered with a cracked voice but with unmistakable bliss, We heard in the next room, a little baby’s cry, Kumarihami came in with a baby girl, bonny and blithe. Madduma, as Kumarihami called him Was really a fun character hidden behind a veil, He suggested we go to his father’s fields Where we played Kotu Panima to our hearts content, To Madduma a little victory as a gift I lent My grandma was pounding rice into flour Again, we were at Madduma’s house, It was a new year I would never forget, For once to roam free and play I was willingly let, Me and Madduma played many games, But that was the last day I saw Kumarihami being just the same. The He was next a day bit strict I saw and Madduma’s a...... bother, father, Kumarihami didn’t speak very much, She even seemed a bit rough to the touch , But to me and Madduma it was just ordinary, Except that the weather was just a bit rainy. While Rolling we away were in the playing golden in the hay, fields that day, Madduma’s Surprisingly older joined brother, us to play. Loku Bandara, A snake arrived while we were playing, Nostrils heavy with the scent of boys, Backing away we frantically screamed, Until we heard Madduma’s confident voice ‘Shoo! Scat!’ Madduma cried, Hitting it with a stick it instantly died. It was then I noticed his bravery, For his age really extraordinary, I marvelled when he catapulted a baby boar, Someday he would have to use his bravery some more... Then a day came, when we were playing in the fields again. We heard Kumarihami cry in pain, Rushing to the house we saw her struggling in vain, In the grip of soldiers looking angry and insane. Then I heard Loku Bandara and Madduma cry out, I was seized by mouth and pushed away, Forced to run home bare legs crunching in mud and clay, Heaved myself onto the mat and sobbed for what seemed like a day, Now Seeing I am the standing executioner awaiting sharpening my friend’s his blade fate, to murder Flowing my are mate, the prickly tears Remembering last year. Loku Under Bandara the blade is to called be pressed, first Kumarihami holding the baby is crying, Unable to watch her sons dying. Loku Bandara is running to his mother in fear On my face flows more tears, I push forward unable to see my friends Wishing hoping not a tragic end... Within hearing distance I clutch my mother Madduma is saying something, ‘Fear not dear brother’ (the executioners axe is high) Madduma continues, ‘I will show you how to die’ Then I see his last and final smile as he tragically.... dies. I see no more but remember my friend’s bravery My and his friendship was extra ordinary, Loku Bandara has died, Tikiri the baby has died. Kumarihami is uncontrollably crying, The soldiers have caught her, Due to the constant tears I can only see a blur. They are trying to push her into the lake Her life is at stake, but I hear her teary words, Cry those who have heard, ‘You don’t have to push me in. I have nothing more in life, Now to die I am keen You soldiers are surely made of sin.’ I fainted there and then, so did many onlooker women, Never did I see my friend again, As for Madduma Bandarara, the hero in all eyes Especially when he was only nine Whether Madduma’s body is dead or alive His brave soul still survives, In Sri Lankan’s hearts it still shall be saved, And Sri Lankans are the flowers on his grave... The writer is a twelve-year-old student of Aql International School, Matale.