Gayani Jayathilake

The time chimed eleven. Through the glass window Kala could see the jollity of brassica growing in harmony in one pot. Nasturtiums smiled in many shades of the summer sunset. The blooming oregano stalks entwined into wreaths around each other. Bouts of thyme grew everywhere but inside the pot. Flowering basil sore to heights not knowing the limit had exceeded. The perm tailed squirrel was back to nibble on flower buds and hide seeds in pots in return. Buzzing bees roley poleyed on pollen. Through the candy floss clouds darted out a jet trying to disrupt the gaiety of the zen balanced cloud beds.

Months of covid lockdown had made Kala an anxious person. To distance herself from auras with virus droplets and a cough there and a sneeze here, she stayed put within her seventy-six square metres of wall. From within the shut glass window, she could almost smell the hyacinths. The plush cushioned chair betwixt the pots had roasted to the perfect warmth in the early summer sun, she could tell. The soil nurtured by the growing plants had turned a soft but dark treasure. She loved running her fingers through the dirt. The smell and feel of it told her what it had been up to when she was not looking. Little grasshoppers that had camouflaged into basil leaves hippity hopped their way onto neighbouring stalks to peek in on their next door neighbours.

The calm world outside called her. Her sun loving skin pinched at her. She looked away to forget. Back in the day, she had been to see a Bali-Thovil ritual in her village. Dancers wearing demon masks had tried to ward off evil spirits by swirling to the beat of the drum. The plant shadows that hit against the south side sunlit desk inside the living room now tempted her to look back.

“But it could get me,” she whispered to herself.

She did that sometimes. Speak to herself. Regardless of the hesitations and palpitations, she lathered on some sun cream. Ice cubes tinkled inside a glass full of part aperitif, part soda water. She turned the door knob with care. The coast seemed clear to venture out. Her heart beat faster as she walked out and sat down. She clipped edgings of the notorious runner bean vine and tangled them along rope to crawl on their own free will. She drizzled water on the high rising chilli plants. All the while attentive to any form of evil jinx. With a brush she swept aphids off nasturtium flowers so they fell onto the leaves. A few minutes in and Kala had forgotten all about lurking demons. Her flipflopped toes were up, shades were down and she was bathing in a good dose of sun ray, herb aromas and flower scents. Her bottom melted into the chair to sink in further. The callings of the birds, rumbling occasional jet, lull of the flapping leaves in the wind rocked her to a gentle calm. Then, somewhere down below her apartment slammed a door. The coughing told her she was home.

“Is she home?” Kala gasped fumbling with glass and basket of harvested leaves. She ravelled the sunshade in haste. She heard doors open and close.

“Oh no. Where’s my slipper?”

In rapid speed Kala collected her belongings and flung them onto the couch in the living room. Barely having worn one slipper, she was hit. A direct hit to the nostrils had beaten her. Her neighbour, a floor below, coughed her nicotine triggered lungs out. It was incredible how the fumes made their way up within seconds. Kala closed the door so the outside world could not get in. But she had been too late. For her living room had been filled with the stench of smoke. Was it the stink from thousands of chemical substances mingling with her body’s tissues? Or was it from the decaying of tar coated teeth and enamel? It did not sound pleasing either way. Kala looked out. Her left slipper had not made it. Nor the basket full of salad leaves for her lunch. But she had stayed out longer than the previous day. Kala felt a tad bit victorious. At ten past eleven she walked away from the living room to make herself a salad without salad leaves. Demonic fumes kept on dancing out on the balcony.