wathumulla

Wathumulla evokes an overwhelming sense of home, even though I've never lived there. Glimpses of the white-walled house make me smile as we approach. The air is heavy with the scent of the jungle and the lush green is dotted with bright reds, pinks and yellows of various tropical flowers. Sounds waft over from the nearby primary school - singing and the occasional crack of cricket ball on bat.

This is the property my father grew up on, my ancestral land. The dusty driveway opens onto the porch, which is home to a number of well-used chairs and benches. The maroon floors and white walls continue inside, wrapping the various styles of furniture. Old cupboards and dressers contain decades-old photographs, back when tight pants and open-necked shirts were the fashion. I found a picture of myself playing in the garden as a 3 or 4 year old.

The caretaker, Prabath, is still here and continues to keep the property in top condition. Wandering around, all the old comforts and memories are present: the dark brick well; the coconut tree, planted by my grandfather on the day of my birth; and the graves of my grandparents.

I'm lucky to have this living family history. I feel confident that more memories will be laid down by the next generation.

Gaj

The lounge room



Tumbling around the village in a tuk-tuk

Entrance to the monk's house at the local temple