Now, the place of worship is the lovely beach in the village. It might as well have been in Sanskrit, as far as the eves-dropping young boy often wondered. It was mostly monologue, and, whether the recipient shows the slightest interest in the topic being narrated or not was never a consideration. Uncle Crinkle-Bottom (not he real name, but I have synthesized a double-barrelled name to illustrate his social standing in the village) is a regular guest at their place who reports a summary of his daily activities to Sivapuranam. You might easily guess that the young boy is Thevaram and the father, Sivapuranam.
Some fifty years ago, a ten-year old boy, half asleep in the veranda of his house, overheard a conversation between his father and a visiting uncle. There is a little island called Couragenagar off the north coast of Sri Lanka.
So, after the wedding, we adjourned to the famous Bridgetown pub and I bought the first round of Peroni.
It was clear there was more to it than what met my eyes, which I was determined to find out. No, not when I am in charge,” he snapped, with a heavy emphasis on the I.
