THE VILLAGE BELLE
Kumar Gunawardane
I pass by,
In the comfort of a motor,
She is knee-deep in a rice paddy,
I wave,
She smiles.
It was the week before, at midnight,
That I delivered her first child,
She had asked for me,
I, who cared and comforted,
Her everyday.
In the dank , dismal room,
Lit by a solitary naked bulb,
I held her hand tightly,
The midwife did the rest.
Unclad ,
Apart from a diaphanous blouse,
Wide open,
Golden skin .
Glistening with sweat,
Body worn out,
But still ethereal.
She holds the infant to her breast,
I walk away,
Slowly, sadly.
We are worlds apart.
I loved your poem Kumar. You have a style of your own, with the story unfolding in staccato gasps! What a handsome young man you were ( and still are with the slight alteration - handsome older man!)
ReplyDeleteDear Kumar
ReplyDeleteA lovely piece of poetry from a wonderful poet. The brief poem, although just a few lines, it speaks volumes of a story that allows the reader to fill in the narrative using his or her imagination. The descriptions of the delivery room and the lady are brilliantly done to bring back my own personal memories of working in Sri Lanka far away from the bright city lights. Thank you for sharing a memory of long ago.
May the poetry corner be a regular feature in a Batch Blog that deserves much more.
Kumar, I really enjoyed reading your poem
ReplyDeleteKumar, this is beautiful. I am not going to attempt to critique your poem, except to say that I loved it. You have a beautiful, soulful style, and I hope you will contribute more such poems for your friends to enjoy.
ReplyDeleteThe words that tugged at my heartstrings were "I walk away, slowly. sadly. We are worlds apart." Now that I am spending time in Colombo, I am confronted with that feeling every time I step out of my comfortable apartment, climb into a Tuk Tuk and observe the world that I pass by.
Dear Kumar
ReplyDeleteYour poem was beautiful. I really enjoyed reading it.
I was very impressed with the way you used poetry to express a true story.
Reading it, I could imagine the faith that this patient would have had in this youthful, pleasant looking doctor.
Kumar
ReplyDeleteWhat a gem of a poem ! Congratulations! It's very brevity and simplicity is so captivating!
You style and gift of expression is truly impressive. Look forward reading more of your creative writing
Suri Amarasekera
Dear Mahen,
ReplyDeleteThank you for publishing the poem and the photo; this was taken around the time of the episode and may have been for a driving licence or passport. You may recall the workings at that time. One had to go to a studio, sit on a chair and face the camera shrouded by a black cloak behind which crouched the photographer; he would suddenly lift the cap off the lens and the image was captured for posterity.There was a mystique about it unlike taking a selfie with a mobile phone.
The best known studios at that time were Donald’s in Borella, Plates in Kollupitiya and Chitrafoto made famous by Lionel Wendt. Our local was Wally’s which was first rate too; the added advantage was the owner being a family friend.
Most customers were very satisfied with the results especially the wedding photos. We had ours done by Donald’s. They were monochrome but some were hand coloured to give an effect that was occasionally better than a colour photograph.The comparison would be calligraphy and typing.
Kumar
The comparison was between studio photography and self-esteem
ReplyDeleteKumar
Sorry. Correction selfies for self esteem
ReplyDeleteKumar
Thank you Mahen, Nihal, Sanath , Srianee, Bora and Suri,
ReplyDeleteThe approbation of the cognoscenti is a tonic; it will spur me to write more.
The story took place in a village off Ratnapura. Srianee, I believe you interned there. It was my first posting; I was the sole MO but assisted by three apothecaries. They helped me out in the clinics and wards, but for obstetrics and paediatrics, I was on my own.The ancillary health staff were attendants and midwives; no nurses.
The Village Belle was one of the long stay patients. They would linger, under various pretexts for the nourishing meals. I was torn between the instructions of the regional head office to limit the numbers and my sympathies for the poor but comely lasses.
Every morning I would do a roll call and when VB’s name was announced, the others would smile knowingly. Sabaragamuwa province is known as the cradle of the most beautiful women in SriLanka. She stood out even amongst those.
The memory of this event is etched in my mind. I asked a Green Path artist to paint this for me. Sadly he was becoming crippled by rheumatoid arthritis and Parkinsonism. Prior to that he would make copies of George Keyt paintings; they were identical to the originals.
My medical cognition may have stagnated and I was freewheeling on the knowledge I acquired during my internship.In obstetrics I was fortunate to have worked with Dr Wilfred Perera o of the best at that time.
One day I hope to write of that ‘ annee memorable’
I missed out on a sentence in the penultimate paragraph. (However I gained much on people skills and compassion,an essential attribute for a doctor).
ReplyDeleteKumar