Saturday, 10 December 2011

Sojourn in Srilanka


The emerald isle of Srilanka is truly a beautiful country, alas ravaged by ethnic strife.  On a short visit to Srilanka about 12 years ago, I discovered the truth behind Soundranayagam's laments about organised suppression of Tamils in that country.  Soundra  was a colleague of mine at Vanderbilt University in the late 1970's, a refugee of sorts, and a rabid supporter of the Tamils' cause in Srilanka.  No Tamil could aspire to a high post in the Government, the Police or the army : opportunity for higher education was denied to the Tamils.  LTTE was but a nascent organisation at that time, and other more pliant Tamil organisations were mere collaborators, toeing the Government's line.

Soundra was the sole Srilankan representative in the Vanderbilt Cricket team : a clumsy fielder in the deep, who made up for his shortcomings by his irrepressible spirit and never say die attitude.  I can truthfully say that I have imbibed a small portion of his spirit from the five years that I had known him.


45. WASTEWATER TREATMENT FOR A CHEESE FACTORY
IN SRILANKA

Kalutara, Matara, Hikkaduwa, Ambalangoda, Ambatale, Embilipitya – lyrical names of towns in Serendip , also called Ceylon, aka Srilanka.  These towns and names are etched in my memory by my having prepared innumerable proposals for Water treatment plants at these locations for the Sri Lanka Water Board.

Sri Lanka and India have a lot in common in respect of fresh water resources : Both countries are fed by the monsoon rains, the swollen rivers then carrying mud, silt and clay in huge quantities turning the waters brown in colour.  And for the rest of the year, the rivers run calm, carrying clear water with little turbidity.  This wide variation in the characteristics of the water poses a challenge to Water Treatment Engineers to deliver treated water of uniform quality through the year.

The Bhandup Water Treatment plant in Bombay ( see The Bhandup Water Treatment Plant ) employed the Dorr- Oliver “ Pretreator “, a clarifier device with an integrated sludge recirculation system, which could effectively nullify the wide variation in quality by developing and maintaining a “Sludge Blanket” within the clarifier.  The Chairman of the Sri Lanka Water Board on a visit to Bombay in the year 1982 was sufficiently impressed by the performance of the Pretreators at Bhandup, that on his return to Sri Lanka he mandated that in future all WTP’s in that country would adopt a similar technology for treatment of water for their municipal supplies.

And hence my familiarity with Kalutara, Matara, Embilipitya ….., several of which towns indeed now boast a WTP with the Dorr-Oliver Pretreator.

Later on in my career, after my move to Bangalore, I had the opportunity to visit Sri Lanka in the summer of 1999 on the invitation of an engineer of Tamil ethnic origin, to study the wastewater from a Swiss Cheese factory in that country and recommend a suitable treatment scheme.

Fortuitously, the KASSIA ( Karnataka Small Scale Industries Association) was holding a Trade Fair in Colombo at that time, and I managed to get into the entourage as a delegate : the entire trip of four days was hugely subsidized with accommodation provided at the Taj Samudra in Colombo, a lovely little hotel with a beautiful view of the Indian Ocean.  The historic Galle Face Hotel was just a stone’s throw away, built in the year 1864, and said to be oldest hotel East of the Suez !!  Evidently the Western world with its usual arrogance does not recognize Serais  of yore as fit and proper hostelry.


The Tamil Engineer,  Selvarasan, came promptly at 0700 Hrs to pick me up from the Taj Samudra for the trip to the Cheese factory located up in the hills in a smallish town called Maskeliya in the Central Province, also home to celebrated hill stations of Nuwara Eliya, Hatton and Kandy.  Much to my dismay, the early hour obliged me to miss my complimentary breakfast at the Taj Samudra :  I am a skinflint at heart and penny pinching has been developed into a fine art by generations of Kodavasals, eking out a living for vast broods of pigtailed rapscallion Jacks and equally rambunctious double braided Jills in that remote rural village in what is now the district of Kumbakonam.  I comforted myself, thinking that I could enjoy a good local Sri Lankan breakfast somewhere along the way at Selvarasan’s expense.

Selvarasan’s Toyota Corolla zipped us out of Colombo, and we were shortly on the A-7 heading up into the mountains.  With my stomach growling, I kept my eyes peeled for a likely looking joint for a good and hearty Sinhalese breakfast.  But alas and alack !  We found nothing on the way, save for a decrepit run down shack displaying buns fit only for  the mongrel dogs hanging round wistfully in the background.  I had to make do with just some Milky Ceylon tea for breakfast that day, before we started the climb into the mountains.

The route up the mountains was studded with machine gun emplacements manned by Srilankan army regulars : at several points we were stopped and my passport checked,  since I was travelling with Selvarasan a Tamil, at a time when the LTTE  and the army were at war,  the entire nation held to ransom by the ethnic conflict between Tamils, Srilankans and an unusually rabid Buddhist clergy. Buddha’s teachings apparently were lost on these bloodthirsty monks in ochre habits.

The route took us past Kitulgala, the site of the movie “The Bridge on the river Kwai” a classic David Lean essay shot over the Kelani river.  Distance between reality and make believe was again brought home to me as we drove past this remote village of Srilanka.


The river was muddy and turbid  when we passed by it, and I gave a mental thumbs up to the Dorr-Oliver Pretreator and the good Chairman of the Sri Lanka Water Board thirty years ago, who had the courage of conviction to do what he thought was right – An Engineer and a Gentleman after my own heart.

We hit Maskeliya around 11 AM that day, only to find the cheese factory nailed shut and boarded up, on account of labour unrest.  We puttered around for a while around the place, much to the amusement of inquisitive goats and lazy cows populating that little hick town.  Human presence now was scarce, the cheese factory apparently being the only high jinks in town.

Selvarasan had organized lunch at his uncle’s home at Hatton a few miles away, at a tea plantation.  The house was a typical Plantation bungalow, which one might find in Coonoor or Munnar : With tiled roofs to combat the incessant rains, and glass all around for that untrammeled vistas of  magical misty mornings in the hills.

The family get together at luncheon was a heartening sight at first : kinfolks from far and wide had gathered together on the occasion of the visit of honoured guests from Colombo.  Strong familial ties continue to bind Srilankan Tamils :  warm and spontaneous hospitality showered on a stranger but a guest like me are possibly things of the past in mainland India.  Srilankan history and politics have contrived to keep the Tamils culturally and socially behind times : the simple, honest and down to earth manner of these people moved even a hard boiled cynic like me. I was struck by  a sinking feeling in my heart, an indescribable and poignant sense of loss and helplessness in this company – for a lost tribe, so near to their homeland, yet so far removed from it.

Somerset Maugham had he traveled in Srilanka would have expressed these sentiments much better.

Back in Colombo, I did some shopping for the family at the Odel department store, relished string hoppers with fiery coconut curry in roadside eateries, patronized the Elephant House store right behind the Taj Samudra for snacks and other goodies.  And at the airport on the way back to catch my flight to Madras picked up a three string Carnelian necklace, said to have magical properties for the missus back home.


After nearly twelve years, I am yet to see it take effect.


Dr. Ananth S Kodavasal                                                           December 03, 2011

1 comment:

  1. Perhaps you are too busy to notice, that it has been weaving its magic for a long, long time.

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