Yasodhara Kumaratunga: “A Butterfly’s Wise Words”
Source:Thuppahis
YASODHARA’s Handwritten Inscription on the Cover Page of the pamphlet in my hands …. courtesy of the copy held by my late departed sister, Estelle Fernando
To ….My dearest Aunty Estelle,
Thank you for starting me off on my long trek” through the world of learning.
With Love
Yasodhara XX
EDITORIAL NOTE: The collection of short poems in this loose-leaf pamphlet is NOT presented below in either chronological order or paginated order [since the pamphlet is NOT numbered].
A Butterfly’s
Wise Words
&
Other Poems.
Yasodhara Kumaratunga
with Cover Design by Yasodhara Kumaratunga
To my beloved thaththi with love
in the hope that the blood which
flowed so vainly from your beautiful
face would mingle with the earth
of my land, to give forth
the blossoms of Peace & Brotherhood
for which you fought so passionately.
And to my ammi for
all that you have been to me
FOREWORD
These poems are the soul-cry of a little girl, traumatised by human violence. At the age of 7 years she witnessed the slaying of her father in a most bestial manner.
She copes with it with a child’s tenderness. Eight months after the shock, she wrote the poem – “Colours of Autumn”, in a few minutes. It is a spontaneous hymn to the glories of Nature, she is probably trying to forget the ugliness of her world, to search for some earthly beauty.
Then she appeals for Peace, in the “Lady of Peace” and against war and violence in “Thoughts of A Dying Soldier”.
Doubts about her country are expressed with startling clarity, yet so briefly in “Was It Ever a Paradise”.
The loneliness and abandon the child felt when in hiding. away from the violence of her land are so poignantly expressed in “May, the Moorwoman”.
**** ****
All these poems were written by Yasodhara between the ages of 8 1/2 years 11 years in London. They were created without any help or prompting by anyone, when she was only begin- ning to leam the English language, after having had an exclusively Sinhala education until the age of 8 years. These poems are an appeal for Peace and human decency, against terror of all types. perpe- trated by the State or anyone else.
On the 5th death anniversary of her father. Wijaya Kumaratunga, we hope that this little book would contribute in some small way, to the rebuilding of honesty, justice, human decency, and respect for the freedom of the other, irrespective of race, language and creed.
Then this monumental man would not have died in vain.
************
A Butterfly’s Wise Words
A butterfly is such a happy creature,
Full of colour and life
So beautiful to watch.
Gracefully fluttering above my head.
Calling to its friends to come and play
“Oh butterfly! Oh butterfly!
Tell me what makes you so happy”
It replied quite sweetly,
I”do not kill, I do not hate,
I do not fight with anyone.
I try to be happy, and I am happy”.
Saying this, it darted off
To join its friends in play
Leaving me in deep thought.
24 th May 1991
The Colours of Autumn
As misty as a mountain top
As red as a ripe red apple
An orange fire burning
Purple grapes ready to be made into wine
Golden honey bursting from a hive
Birds flying in the deep blue sky
As brown as a sleepy old bear
ready for its winter sleep
Deep red poppies gracefully nodding their heads
as if they are dancing with the wind.
I heard the fire whispering something to me
as I was toasting marshmallows on it.
All these beautiful colours of Autumn fade away
As Winter begins to fall.
October 1988
Was It Ever a Paradise?
It used to be a
Beautiful country,
Peaceful and nice,
Full of friendly people
Always smiling,
Always happy,
It was a paradise on Earth.
But now, there is war and violence
In the country that was peaceful and nice,
It makes you wonder
“Was it ever a paradise?”
December 1989
Thoughts of a Dying Soldier
As I lay dying on the battiefield.
I thought
About the war.
How I was forced to join the army
I don’t feel honoured to be
Dying for my country.
To be brave is not to die
but to live on.
I thought about the battle.
I knew the enemy had defeated us.
I was dying because
I was in the way of one of the many bombs
That fell on the battlefield
Somebody stepped on me by mistake,
I did not mind because it was nothing
Compared to the pain in my heart.
In a way.
I was glad to be dying.
I knew that if I live
I would be handicapped in many ways.
I closed my eyes. prepared to die.
30th January 1991
Lady of Peace
There she is picking flowers,
Her face so kind and beautiful,
Her cheeks are a rosy red,
She smiles at you with her rosebud lips
She wears a gown of white silk
And a crown of flowers
Her hair flows down to her kness
She looks in disgust
At people who are causing war
for useless reasons,
She smiles at people
Who are trying to be peaceful,
She tries to bring happiness
Into their lives.
You will be happier being Peaceful
Than causing war.
May 1990
Why?
Why do we hunt animals for their skins
They don’t hunt us for ours,
The brains we have were wasted
On guns and nuclear weapons,
On concrete jungles,
And factories belching out pollution.
We must put an end to all
the wrong things we are doing
Before it’s too late.
July 1990
The Mirror
I stood in front of the mirror
Duck! I did not like what I saw
That ugly brown face, messy hair
I brushed it
It didn’t make my face look better.
My eyes were bright,
They were a shiny black,
They made my face look a bit better
But I guess I can’t change my face
I am stuck with it!
June 1990
May the Moorwoman
If you went to the moor,
About a year ago.
You would have seen someone,
Someone who was lonely.
Someone who was all alone.
She had no family, no friends, no home.
But she never complained to anyone.
She just kept on living
As brave as a lion,
As beautiful as a wild rose.
All that is left,
Of May the Moorwoman
As people used to call her,
Are her clothes
Which are damp and soggy now.
Yet. you still complain,
And say you are unhappy,
When you have everything
That May ever wanted-
A family, friends and a home.
May 1990
A Different Perspective A Daffodil
As I was sitting in the flower bed
I talked to my neighbour.
“What happened to those flowers
that got picked yesterday?” I asked
My neighbour did not have time to reply…
A hand came down at us,
I was doomed
My roots were pulled out of the soil
Then, I was dumped in a vase.
“Oh! What a pretty flower!”
It must be so proud to be in that vase”.
She did not know what it felt like
Drooping in this wretched vase.
I knew I will wither away and die soon.
Sooner than I would have,
If I had been left alone.
February 1991
Maha Kappina Walauwa
I stand here alone,
Two hundred years old
I hear no more the sound of laughter,
Of activity innside me…
Now I am abandoned, I fall here alone In silence.
13th April 1991
Two Things
Two things I can watch
And never get tired of watching,
Are the sea and fire,
Never still, always moving,
Forming different shapes and images
In my mind.
I can sit by the sea shore
And listen to the waves,
Cracking by my feet
For hours on end…
Or I will sit by the fireside
Looking deeply into the flickering fire
To see it forming shapes and images.
With my cat softly purring on my knees.
24th May 1991
Gypsy Song
Whirling and whirling
In beautiful, bright costumes
Spinning and twirling
To our colourful tunes.
The tunes carry our feet away
And we keep dancing and dancing.
The night is nearly over.
But we’re still tirelessly dancing We’ll go tomorrow
Where our feet may lead us.
Dancing. Dancing and Dancing.
24th July 1991
The Sea
When I look at the sea,
Its greatness, its power
I feel small, so small
feel like an ant
Looking at a mighty lion.
The heart of this earth,
Flowing, flowing.
Sometimes gentle,
Sometimes fierce,
Always beautiful,
Always mysterious
lighty waves crack
Then become gentle.
Kiss the shore.
Then go back .
Always returning to kiss it
Again and again.
…. June 1992 ….
Printed & Published by Rakhena Printer & Publishers Ltd..
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BACKGROUND EMBELLISHMENTS
Chandrika Kumaratunga nee Bandaranaike visiting Estlle Fernando in Nugegoda during my sister’s fading years circa 2018
Chandrika with Yasodhara, her husband Roger Walker and younger brother Vimukthi in London
