..........
We arrived at Tharinda's house after 2:00 PM. We had already eaten lunch, so we weren't hungry. I had slept a bit in the car, so I wasn't too tired. I even called my father from the car. Stepping out of the car, I felt refreshed.
Since we had called Tharinda beforehand, he was waiting by the road.
Tharinda's ancestral home, or his grandmother's house, was located in the mountains, making it a bit difficult to reach. You couldn't drive all the way to the house; you had to walk about 500 meters. But it was a beautiful area. Even in the middle of the day, it wasn't hot; it was cool. There was barely any sunlight.
Tharinda looked like he had been crying. His face was red, and his nose was stuffy. I almost laughed as soon as I saw him, but I quickly composed myself, remembering that we were at a funeral.
"Son, have you been waiting long? We took the road with the flags, but that U-turn was really difficult to navigate. That's why we're a little late," Dhanuwa's father said.
"No, Uncle, I haven't been waiting long. You must be tired. It's a bit of a walk uphill," Tharinda said, looking like he was about to cry. Poor guy. He must be so sad. His grandmother took care of him a lot, especially after his parents went to work. She was like my own father to him, always there for him.
We took our bags and slowly made our way up the hill, talking along the way. We passed some kids playing. Thariya's younger brother and sister were there too. They didn't seem to care at all. Amidst the somber gathering, the little kids found a way to play; a funeral was just another chance for them to be together. Tharinda, being the eldest, had a bit more responsibility.
Before going to the wake, we stopped at a house down the road to freshen up and leave our bags. That's where we were going to stay the night. It belonged to one of Tharinda's uncles.
It was about 3:00 PM when we went to the wake. In the middle of the living room, there was a photo of Tharinda's grandmother with a garland of flowers. She looked quite young in the picture. Behind it were two decorated urns, and between them, the coffin. Inside, Tharinda's grandmother lay dressed in a white sari, her hands folded, her eyes and mouth closed.
Since I lost my mother's love so early, I never really knew what it was like to have a grandmother. Every time I go to a funeral, it reminds me of my mother. I don't even remember if my mother ever had a funeral...
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As I was leaving after paying my respects, the design on my bracelet suddenly shimmered with a jade green color. I felt like someone was watching me. Even though I looked around and didn't see anyone, the feeling was hard to explain. It was like a gentle, compassionate gaze, like someone looking at a stray puppy. Was I really that helpless?...
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Dhanuwa and I sat with Thariya, sipping our Nescafe and trying to figure out how to comfort him. Tharinda's eyes were red, even though he wasn't crying.
Just then, one of Tharinda's aunts saw us and called us over to help set up a table. We got up and went with her.
But Dhanuwa handed me his Nescafe and phone, saying, "Stay here until we get back, otherwise it'll be hard to find a spot," and pushed Tharinda along behind his aunt...
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"Are you Ayan?"
While I was scrolling through Facebook on my phone, someone suddenly asked me. I looked up. I felt that familiar sensation again; my bracelet shimmered with the same jade green color.
"Yes?"
"Your father is Mohan, right? You've grown so much!" she said, looking me up and down. "Am I late? No, I can't be..." she muttered to herself, almost inaudibly.
"
"Yes, Aunty. Do you know my father?"
She was a strange young woman, probably in her late 20s or early 30s. She was dressed in white, wearing a long white gown and white gloves. On her left hand, she had a floral-patterned hat, a sort of floppy hat, in a greenish color. She was quite beautiful, like a high elf from a fantasy story.
But those eyes... those eyes didn't match her age. They were as old as Thariya's grandmother's, as deep as the night sky on a new moon.
"Yes, of course... it's been so long since I've seen him. I think it's been over 10 years. How is he?" Even though I understood what she was saying, her accent sounded almost British.
"Over 10 years??... Do you... do you know my mother too, Aunty?"
"Oh, goodness, do I look that old? Call me Akka, child. I'm not even married yet."
"...... :-/"
"Yes, I knew her. You have the same curly hair as she did. And those beautiful brown eyes... Ah, and your father has curly hair too, doesn't he? Hee hee....." As she said this, she covered her face as if she were embarrassed.
I immediately thought this woman was crazy.
She reached into her gown's pocket and pulled out a dark-colored card, about the size of a playing card. It had strange designs on both sides in indescribable colors.
She gave me the card. I glanced at her hand.
And...
And... she was wearing the same kind of bracelet as me! But the design was different, more like a floral pattern. Mine looks like snake scales. I only really noticed it when it shimmered.
"Give this card to your father, please. I don't have much time, Ayan. Tell him I remembered him," she said. As soon as I took the card, the designs disappeared. It was just a normal, black plastic card.
I was suspicious of this lady. Who knows what kind of trouble she might bring? But something inside me told me to trust her.
"Okay... but what's your name, Aunty?" I asked, tucking the card into my purse.
She looked at me intently, as if she could swallow me whole.
"My name isn't important. Just give that to your father. He'll know. I have to go now. Be careful on your way home." She put on her hat and walked away.
Had I made her angry?...
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Author's Note:
Akka: In Sinhala, "Akka" is a term of respect used to address an elder sister or a woman of similar age. It's a common way to show politeness and familiarity.