Heart Chakra

By Pramod Kandanarachchi and Sampath Dissanayake

There was nothing that treasured life inside that room. It had only
darkness of the other world—no luminosity of this existence. It was all about
death and death only. Nothing else.
Except the life eagerly waiting to see the light of day inside her body.
She felt weak and nauseated. She clutched onto a leg of the chair she was
sitting on. The wooden leg felt rough and had a sharp edge. She wiggled it,
making it a little loose without realizing what she was doing.
A strange thought came to her mind at that point.
It would take only four seconds for her to break the leg out of the chair
to plunge the stake into his chest or forehead. The forehead would be hard
to penetrate, but it would be the way to go because he might have time,
perhaps two seconds, to go under the table, covering his chest before she
reached him.
It would be over in ten seconds. Then she could finally wake up from
this nightmare.
“You may try it, but I can guarantee that you will be dead before you
get up.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483485515

Book preview

2018

PAST

1

The Crime

WTC Colombo, Sri Lanka, January 31, 1996, 10:50 a.m.

Nihal decided to skip the midmorning snack. It would be too much of a hassle to take the elevator, walk down the street, and wait in line at the busy café just to have a cup of tea. Besides, his tea buddy hadn’t arrived at work yet.

Lazy bastard.

Nihal had too much on his plate already. The opening ceremony of the new office would be in two days. As operations manager, he had to make sure everything ran smoothly by then, from elevators to the fax machine. Their company was moving to a posh office on the tenth floor of WTC, at the east tower. It was the new baby in town. He marveled at the grandness of brand-new furniture, smelled the freshness of newly painted walls, admired the new set of PCs they’d bought, and for the umpteenth time, wanted to just stand in front of the huge glass panel to be awed at the magnificence of Colombo’s skyline.

First, he should answer the phone. Telephone lines were working, so one less thing to worry about.

Hello, brother, Nihal said. Didn’t expect a call from you in the early morning.

It is almost bedtime for us over here. How are you doing?

Busy as usual. Guess what? I am in the new office. You should see the view from here. It is breathtaking. I can see the Galle Face Green, Central Bank, Beira Lake, and our identical twin at the same time.

That must be something, his brother said. I heard the Colombo Stock Exchange is also doing great. You must be making a fortune.

I don’t know about a fortune, but we are doing all right. Do you think Janaki and kids are happy over there?

They are hanging on. It is harder in Toronto than we first thought. But it is a great city, good place to raise a family. Is my nephew busy applying to schools?

We need to push Nalin a little. Hope it is not too much of a trouble to sponsor him. You know things are okay for older people like me. It is different for youngsters. I hope we can send him abroad before it is too late. I don’t like the company he keeps. Can’t do much about it though.

Stop worrying about the children. They are just kids behaving like kids. I will see what I can do. Say hello to Akka too for me.

Bye now. Don’t you spend too much on telephone calls? You will need some extra cash once my son lands there.

The huge glass panes in front of him made Nihal feel small. He watched the waves rushing over and over to the shore in the Galle Face Green, a sight he had never gotten bored witnessing for fifty-two years. The streets below him were busy as always, with line of vehicles snaking all around and a mass of humanity at work like in an anthill. He could see all of them but hear none of the honking or yelling—too far and perfectly insulated from the walls.

He glanced at his watch. It was 11:00 a.m. Where is my assistant? That guy has no concept of punctuality. Why am I surprised anyway?

What the heck is that racket? A lorry was entering the front gate of the Central Bank, followed by a three-wheeled taxi. He saw people running around—couldn’t say what they were running around for. The truck kept on moving as people were surrounding it. Did he see smoke? He took his reading glasses out of his eyes to have a better look.

What happened next did not make any sense. Why it happened could not be attributed to the will of God, because one had to then accept it as the most arbitrary power. It couldn’t be explained as ‘karma,’ then it should be the most irrational case of a cause and effect.

Science might shine some light on it.

First, light travels faster than sound. That explained why Nihal saw it well yet didn’t hear a thing. Second, the mind works the fastest. It could travel way ahead of light or time. That explained how he knew exactly what was happening as it was happening—perhaps even before it occurred.

Third, a glass prism can refract white light, creating a rainbow. That would explain the beauty surrounding the evil that he would witness in two seconds.

Four hundred forty pounds of high explosives detonated, creating an extremely bright flash that he saw at once. And it generated a shock wave that took a long time—1.8 seconds exactly—to reach the glass panel in front of him. He had ample time to ponder about his son, wife, strangers, himself, and his son again—but no chance to react.

The glass instantly broke into billions of little pieces, each refracting the bright sunlight forming billions of rainbows. The seven colors of the spectrum of visible light danced in front of him, sometimes separately and sometimes together—always with a splendor only the heavens could boast. He couldn’t escape the beauty of the spectacle as his heart cried for his loved ones. The billions of small prisms—some as small as micrometers, some as big as millimeters—traveled the two feet between his cornea and the glass wall that was no more in existence, faster than the speed of sound but slower than the speed of light.

So he witnessed. And he reflected as he was waiting. Somebody had decided to take an eye for an eye.

Mercifully, the nerve impulses that traveled from his skin to the brain moved at a much slower speed.

It was over before he felt any pain.

2

Party Interrupted

Summer, 2000, Toronto Pearson International Airport

He stands by the carousal number eight, somewhat drowsily, trying to map out the next step. The belt starts to move, first grudgingly with a creak then catches up speed as luggage appear. He stares at the bags: some big, some small, new and old in all kinds of shapes and colors. A huge box emerges, tied with a white rope, partially open. He sees an address written across the face of the thing in large letters. He attempts to read it, but it moves past him. A man, mid 30s—probably South Indian—accompanied by his wife and two little children, runs for it before it would disappear at the other end. The man grabs it in time, pushing over a couple of passengers. His face lights up with satisfaction, as if he had just saved his treasured belongings from a certain doom. Who knows? It may not have come back.

The man’s euphoria is short lived. He shouts to his wife as their second piece of luggage turns up at the other end.

Rohan turns his attention to his own items.

The formalities at the immigration counter were not as grueling as he anticipated contrary to what he had heard. There were horror stories of mean spirited officers giving a hard time with the paperwork of newcomers. Nothing like that happened to him. The immigration officer, a middle-aged guy with a balding forehead and a potbelly, was quite courteous. In fact he appeared delighted to welcome this foreigner to his country.

The next step is customs. Hopefully, the assortment of spices, sweets, and especially the pickled seer fish may survive the last hurdle of the trip.

Then he will meet his new friends.

41899.png

August 3, 1988

Amanda looked gorgeous in her black skirt, yellow blouse with dark red stripes, and … don’t forget the shiny high heels. She had barely begun high school, already had blossomed like a flower. The soft background music sounded like a tribute to her beauty. The blue, white, and red light bulbs wrapped around the bushes were there merely to complement the sparkle in her eyes. Rohan couldn’t take his eyes off her nor keep his mind away from her. The star that shone that night without a doubt was Amanda. There was no competition, except perhaps from Nalika. Nalika’s beauty with her tall alert figure coupled with an exotic grace and majestic demeanor had a quality of beauty different to that of her friend’s. Amanda was a small made curvaceous damsel, well proportioned with a baby face made irresistibly seductive by her mischievous smile.

What a cute little thing, whispered Rohan sneaking a glimpse of her.

The party was only for close family and a few friends. Mr. Robert Wickramanayaka—a distant relative of Rohan’s father—was visiting Sri Lanka for a month and the timing was perfect for attending Rohan’s farewell party. Rohan had gained entrance to the University of Peradeniya after an extreme competition, so he rightfully deserved that honor.

However, these days Universities are not really great institutions of learning, nor are they the enclaves for spiritual and intellectual fulfillment, as they had been in the past. They are more like jungles full of ferocious beasts, hungry jackals and heartless hunters—were the views of Rohan’s mother, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and anybody who had some grey hair on their heads. However, to Rohan’s friends this was his ticket to the Garden of Eden where ‘boy meets the world’ experience awaited his arrival.

Rohan’s family lived in their ancestral home in Katugastota by the Mahaweli River. Kandy, the closest metropolitan, was a city surrounded by mountains. It was the capital of the last Sinhala kingdom before the British conquered it in 1815. The house had been recently renovated with additions to the old residence including a touch of contemporary architecture that was complemented by a well-tended garden. Inside, the abode appeared affluent with colorful curtains, brand new pantry cupboards, contemporary furniture, a grand piano, and various modern amenities.

Mr. Robert Wickramanayaka and his family—wife and two daughters—became very close to them when they visited London in the early 1980s. That short stay transformed the distant relatives into close friends.

Ranjith was a happy and a proud man that day. He had always been a very ambitious person. He had always worked very hard. In spite of all the reservations about the future of the younger generation of Sri Lanka, he knew that education would always be the key to their future wellbeing.

It doesn’t matter where you decide to live in this world, he would tell them, You can prosper anywhere in this planet only if you have a good education and a moral work ethic.

Ranjith, you seem to be quite preoccupied today, what’s the matter? You should be partying as if there is no tomorrow.

Robert joined him in the belvedere by the green house in their two-acre estate overlooking the Mahaweli River. He drew up a chair and sat alongside him.

I used to be a person who was overly concerned about the future. But that is not what I am worried about. Now I fear the present, not the future.

Your tomorrow will be better than today. Your problem is you are too worried of just about everything. Let’s have a drink to celebrate tonight. After all, I don’t want to miss the chance to have fine Sri Lankan arrack.

Uncle, would you like to have some pastries? Nalika walked by with a tray of finger food.

Sure. I love these rolls and cutlets. I don’t get to eat these things very often back in London.

You should thank aunty Soma for the pastries. She has been helping Ammi to make all this food. You will also find some of her specials at dinner.

Soma lived about a mile away from their home. She also had a son of Rohan’s age and two young daughters. Her son Nimal had finished high school with good grades from where Malini was a teacher. He had been planning to enter technical college.

By the way, you look so beautiful today. I can’t believe you have grown up so much since we saw you five years ago.

Thank you, uncle. But some people think that it is only my new dress which is making me look pretty.

Who is the idiot says such a silly thing? I beg to differ. I think you are the one who is making your dress look gorgeous.

I am sure my younger brother will disagree with you.

I know Ajith is jealous of you because he is still a rough little hairball. What grade is he in now?

Robert always enjoyed the small talk with the kids. His children had moved out of their home a long time ago. He has one grandchild living in Australia. They were able to visit him only once a year.

Ajith just started advanced level. I think he is yet to discover girls. That is why he can’t see the difference between a pretty face and a pretty dress. Malini joined the conversation.

Good for him, girls are nothing but trouble. What about Rohan? Is he dating somebody? Robert inquired with an impish smile.

He seems to be a serious student. College entrance is quite competitive these days. So you can’t have both a girlfriend and good grades. I suppose.

Malini expressed a typical motherly sentiment.

In fact Rohan was not as innocent as his mother would like to believe. Nalika knew that he was head over heels in love with her friend, Amanda. She attended the same school as Nalika and lived only a couple of miles away. Actually Nalika made a point of inviting Amanda to the party not only because she was her best friend, but she knew that it would make Rohan’s day too. It appeared that Amanda had also given much more attention than the occasion called for to her dress and appearance to Nalika’s mild amusement.

However, Rohan was too shy to ask her out. Amanda knew that Rohan always had a crush on her—always checking her out—sometimes even to her annoyance. He would frequently find some silly excuse to talk to her when she was around, but didn’t appear to have much to say once the conversation began. She thought he was cute too. However, she would never make the first move. Girls are not supposed to chase boys, right? Well, that is what everybody assumes whether it is fair to the girls or not. Too bad for Amanda, she would have to wait until he comes out of his shell. Is it the shell of the obedient elder son or the shell of the responsible young man? Maybe it is just the shell of idiotic shyness, thought Amanda. She would never put that sentiment into words though.

Rohan was having a good time with his friends. They managed to smuggle a couple of drinks—alcoholic of course—out of his father’s liquor cabinet. They were talking about cricket, movies, and for the most part—girls. A few of his friends had started seeing girls and sex was finally becoming a reality, no longer just a fantasy. This was in the late 1980s—a decade after the open market revolution of 1977—the country was still socially conservative. They all loved Hollywood movies, sports, nice clothes, and motorcycles. Even though they were educated in all boys’ schools, they had plenty of interactions with girls during after school classes that were always co-ed. Still, parents were quite protective of their daughters—not so much of their sons—for reasons that would seem hypocritical to some. Once out of high school, girls have greater freedom to meet their boyfriends and go to movies or visit the Peradeniya Botanical gardens, a popular spot for making out for young studs. Guys were eager to share the details of those rendezvous with their friends, obviously with a few exaggerations. Most of them haven’t gone beyond kissing—if you were lucky enough and your girlfriend was brave enough then may be a little bit more.

Are you planning to ask Amanda out soon? Rohan’s friend Saman asked.

All of them knew about Rohan’s interest in Amanda. However, they were puzzled by his aloofness toward her. Most of them were not as academic type as Rohan. So they wouldn’t limit their girl-interests to mere fantasies. They would go for it although their chances of striking gold were generally quite low, if one may say so. Given the cultural boundaries imposed on girls in Sri Lanka even in fairly cosmopolitan communities, the success rate of an average teenage guy closing the deal on a typical teenage girl was at best be ten percent at that time.

Admittedly, one cannot quote any published study of this field done by a respected institution. Obviously there were some rebellious girls and boys having fun in spite of many limitations imposed on them, cultural or otherwise. This was true for not only in Sri Lanka at the end of twentieth century, but even at the beginning of the nineteenth century, or for that matter during any era in human civilization anywhere in the world.

I don’t know. I don’t think I am her type. Don’t you see how breathtaking she is? She is better off with a more outgoing person, Maybe a rugby player …

How would you know unless you ask her what she wants? Who are you to decide who she is better off with?

Saman sounded mature. Actually He acted in a much more grown up manner than he really was. Most of his friends, although they admired Rohan’s company, cannot fully understand the way his mind works. Rohan’s character too at times seems to have some contradictions. His manners and interests were emblematic of the academic type. He also had an inclination to hang out with more outgoing playboy characters.

A bi-polar personality?

That is exactly my point. I have no idea what she wants. I don’t want to find out that she doesn’t need me. Not after fantasizing about her for such a long time. I don’t think I can take such a rejection. After all, she is still too young for this. Well, I know what I would be better off with—myself.

Good luck with you and your hand, Saman interjected. All of the girls need one thing. That is called BBD.

What the heck is BBD? Rohan knew that coming from Saman, this had to be something obscene.

A man dressed in a dark shirt and shaggy pants walking into their garden interrupted their conversation. He seemed young. His face was covered with a huge hat. Definitely this was someone completely out of place in this crowd. Rohan saw him headed for his father, handed him something, and hurriedly walked back.

Ranjith read the note slowly. His expression did not change much. But his voice sounded grave when he spoke.

Okay, everybody get inside the house. Right now. Please. His voice did not brook any hesitation from anybody.

All of them rushed inside. As they moved in, a loud bang deafened their ears and shattered the windows causing a pandemonium. Thick black smoke rose from the far corner of the garden and swiftly moved toward them.

3

Class Warfare

Is anybody hurt?"

Ranjith took charge to make sure that all of them moved into the house unscathed. He then consoled his nervous wife Malini, who was shaking uncontrollably. He signaled Rohan to close the doors. Nalika was also one of those who regained her composure promptly and attended to a couple of their younger cousins who were crying.

Amanda, are you doing okay?

She could only nod in answer to Rohan. She was visibly shaken.

Don’t worry. Somebody just exploded a bomb outside our front gate. I don’t think they wanted to hurt anyone but maybe just to scare us. He comforted her before turning to check on others needing reassurance.

41903.png

Soma was ready to go home after a grueling day and night. She was disappointed. They could not enjoy the occasion, especially the food that she had prepared so painstakingly. She adored Malini’s family not because they were quite helpful to her and her family, but, they, especially children, particularly Nalika, had shown tremendous respect and love for her too.

I got something for you, Soma. Malini handed her a bag. Here are some clothes your daughters can use. Nalika had hardly ever worn them.

41905.png

We heard Malini teacher had a heart attack yesterday night.

Soma knew Nimal was mocking her. The whole village may have heard about the incident at Mrs. Warnapura’s house. Soma guessed.

What makes you think so? She retorted irritably. Everything is a joke for children these days.

Is it true that somebody sent them ‘the note’? I heard they had some fireworks in front of their house too?

Nimal couldn’t hide his humor. Everybody knew about ‘the note’, as ridiculous as it sounded, everybody was supposed to know better to respect it for his or her own sake. People understood that those were dangerous times. They sometimes couldn’t help but make fun of the situation.

One cannot live in fear or be depressed at what was happening around him all the time, can he?

These people are so naïve to have big parties in the middle of this calamity.

Nimal spoke in a more subdued tone. He did indeed have a soft corner in his heart for the Warnapuras. After all Malini had been his social studies teacher for several years. She was a good teacher. She was also very sensitive and easily disturbed, sometimes to the amusement of her pupils. He also knew Ajith very well. He had even played soccer with him.

He liked Nalika. He thought she was down to earth.

But Rohan is definitely swollen headed. That guy thinks he is better than any one of us because he went to a big city school and got into what, just the Science faculty?

They were celebrating Rohan’s admission to the University. The Warnapuras are also parents just like any one of us. What parent wouldn’t be proud of their children?

What about the parents of that man who was killed so brutally? He was the one who took care of their whole family. What crime did he commit to deserve such a horrible fate? I heard that he wasn’t even an insurgent—just an innocent bystander.

I don’t know much about these things. How could we ever know the truth? Only God knows.

Nimal felt anger rising in his chest. He had no intention of subduing it. He sensed a strange urge to nurse it, let it grow to a rage, and unleash it.

Unleash my wrath at whom or what? He had no idea.

Soma didn’t want to continue the conversation. She was not ignorant of what was happening all around her. She had great empathy for the young men and women who were confronting—sometimes violently—a corrupt ruling class to correct an unjust social order. She had been poor all her life, so needed no explanations as to how everything was stacked against them.

But she was also a mother. She could also feel the vicious rage engulfing all around her. She did not want her children to consume that venom. Whenever her children expressed any sentiment of hatred, immediately her motherly instinct took over and made her want to protest.

Nimal felt bad about his mother. What is the point in taking my frustration out of her? He walked into her bedroom. Soma was unpacking a bag of used clothes.

Where did you get these?

Malini teacher gave these for your sisters. They are good as brand new.

You should not have accepted these. It is true that you work for them, but why do my sisters have to wear clothes discarded by others?

He knew that they were financially not well off. He was also no longer a child and at almost twenty, his pride and the reality of his situation were beginning to clash.

They are nice people. She gave this out of the goodness of her heart. They didn’t do this to look down on us but only to help. Do you think that I would ever have accepted anything for my children from anybody who gives with the intention of humiliating us?

Well, these dresses look pretty anyway.

Nimal didn’t want to dwell on this embarrassing subject. He knew those clothes belonged to Nalika. For some strange reason he was looking forward to see his sisters wearing them in spite of contrary feelings rising in him due to his ego.

41907.png

Nalika rushed through the streets to catch a bus after her weekend classes. She needed some extra help for Chemistry from her private tutors. Even a straight ‘A’ student like Nalika couldn’t perform well enough to get entrance to the Medical School without some help. The streets were somewhat deserted as it was midday on Sunday, quite unlike weekdays where the place would be bustling with pedestrians, vendors, beggars, and a few stray dogs from dawn till dusk and beyond. As hard as she tried, the bus started to leave moments before she reached the stop. She wished she were a guy then she could have chased it and jumped into the speeding vehicle like mounting a horse.

I guess I will have to wait another forty-five minutes before the next one, she told herself impatiently. It was no fun lingering around those dusty roads, sweating under the blazing sun, breathing the foul odor of rotting garbage dumped by the roadside.

I can’t believe how the guys in my generation are spending their free time loafing along these smelly streets just to hit on some girl. An interesting thought came across her mind.

Nimal saw her from afar. He was also heading home after a soccer game. He also had to take the same bus as Nalika’s. He wished to talk to her, but was nervous so stood at a safe distance.

Hello Nimal, how are you doing?

Nalika was not coy at all about talking to a guy. Her voice was sharp and dominating—just like her features—both of which inherited from her father.

Hello Nalika, I am sorry I didn’t see you.

Both knew that statement was unlikely to be taken as true.

It is a Sunday afternoon, dummy! There is hardly any crowd over here and you have two-mile visibility today. I am a pretty girl too. Are you telling me that you didn’t notice me?

She wouldn’t challenge him by transferring those thoughts into words.

I just missed the bus after my Chemistry class. I am glad to see you because I have to wait a long time for the next one. So, what’s happening with you?

Nothing much. I have been to a soccer game. I guess you can see that from my dirty clothes.

Nimal was warming up to the conversation. She could see that his tee shirt was drenched with sweat. And his shorts were muddy. She also couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders and strong legs.

However, being ‘a good girl’ she wouldn’t pay undue attention to such things.

Ajith tells me that you are very good at soccer. Did you guys win today?

We always do. We will be playing in the semi-finals next week. Maybe you can come to watch us?

I would love to, except I have classes during the weekend. Besides, I am more of a cricket fan. Do you play cricket too?

Cricket is for high class people.

Nimal kept on smiling. He didn’t show any animosity although that seemingly innocent query from her about cricket made him slightly irritable.

Oh. Really? Then I guess it is out of bounds for both of us, Nalika laughed out loud. Her matter of fact attitude was comforting to Nimal. That was what he liked about her. She is not high-minded like her brother Rohan.

Don’t be too modest, you are definitely high-class with a big house, big car, and a big daddy who is a manager of a big company.

He felt like adding something about big parties. Then he thought better of it. After all these are very nice people. What if they are high-class? Maybe her parents worked very hard to be where they are now, just like my parents, he thought. The only problem is that my parents couldn’t go anywhere even after so much hard work. Well, it is not Nalika’s fault. So let me not get into a fight with her.

You are face to face with a very bright and pretty young female. So, don’t ruin it. Just enjoy the moment.

Well, I am also trying to make my brain bigger by studying all the time. By the way how are your sisters doing? Nalika didn’t want to get into class warfare with him either. All she needed was some good company until the next bus arrived.

They are doing well, thanks for asking.

They talked about the weather, school, teledramas, and a few other things. Nalika did most of the talking while Nimal kept on nodding or answering briefly. He learnt that she was absolutely determined to enter Medical College, struggling to understand chemistry, liked to play badminton, had a crush on Kamal Addararachchi, hated bitter melon, and loved mangoes.

He thought about offering to buy her some mangoes from the little stall across the street. He quickly figured it would be a silly gesture.

She would have known by then that he was an intense listener, but not an enthusiastic talker. They got into the same bus and rode together. Nalika’s stop came before his.

Bye Nimal, good luck with the next soccer game.

"See you later,