Gayani Jayathilake

Out the window , through the skies scarred by months of gloom peaked the sun. A tinge of its rays had managed to squeeze in through the cloud demons to take a peek on us that day. The snow had melted from the rooftops. The magpies on the roof did their tail lifting dance against the whizzing winds. I felt the universe was telling me I need to take a walk outside. Which is what I did.

I do not live in a forest. I live in a small village slash district with about five thousand inhabitants. On one complete side is an industrial zone. Software factory upon factory climbed heights. Old offices, new offices, fancy offices, not-so-fancy offices stood in rows. A small section of a university is here. Two kilometres away runs the constant rat-a -tat of train lines. About two kilometres away to the south west side runs the highway. Out my front door is a play area. With few kindergartens here and some schools there, a clutter of hotels and restaurants in different arts all dotted the village.

How did you picture where I live? Like a city coughing up bouts of smoke? Like a city full of noise pollution? Bustling with noise and chaos?

Let me walk out the door and show you.

Right around the bend was peter rabbit hopping his way to greet me. He did a quick nod and sat himself comfortable under the shaded trees on the leaf cushioned floor. A few feet away were children playing hop and skip in the play area.

Around the other bend I heard a stick crack and a leaf crunch. A pack of deer camouflaged within a patch of trees watched me as I walked by. Just beyond that was an office building. People sat out on benches munching on their lunch sandwich talking with colleagues. Running through the car park there, lacing around the cars and office building were a few rabbits.

I walked on and came to the little patch of forest bordering the village. Somewhere down the slope came the strumming of a tune. It was not just the sound of someone trying to practice a tune. It was someone who knew their tac and toe from tic about instrumental music. The echoing of violin strings came from a not so far distance. It was Locatelli’s Caprice in D major played with much ease that I heard. It sounded like many violins being played together. But when closer I realized it was the echoing of one violin spreading across the forest, booming and bouncing against each bark.

In a little clearing amidst the trees was a girl. Strumming the strings so confidently. This unusual golden haired girl’s playing did not make it seem like she was just playing one violin, but an entire set of instruments altogether. Together she was not one girl playing one violin. She was many playing as an orchestra. Even the loud bickering chatter of the sparrows had been tamed into a soft coo. They perked on high branches and watched her. The trees did not shake or let out even a shimmer in the wind. They were very still. Seen and unseen tiny creatures watched her like hovering over Snow white.

So many people walk by, run, cycle past me through the footpaths. They leave as they came. They leave nothing behind. Apart from the patch of forest, there are the industrial buildings, shops, schools highways and train tracks. But the connection, the interaction between humans and the wildlife here is noteworthy. Both sharing each other’s space in harmony.

In my first few years here, I took many photographs like the tourist I was. I clicked the changing colours of the seasons. Things I had never seen before in the eastern world. The mighty oak, the magpie, the poisonous toadstool, the eye catching holly berries, the first snowflakes, the disastrous slopes of heavy ice, the edelweiss… the list went on. Years into my life here, I moulded into the village and the creatures within. There is a deep connection between the humans and animals here I learned. A simple, they are here, we are here too kind of a connection. I feel people here have connected to something more there. Experiencing nature as it is. End of story. Nothing more. Nothing less. That simplicity, that connection, that balance makes me fall in love all over again with this small village.