The crowded street

The long queue

by Akane Furukawa
our Guest writer
Pictures by Richard Scott
our Guest photographer
It was on a spare of the minute decision that we decided to go to Kandy to see the Sacred Tooth Exposition. "You must be mad to go!", "You will never get to see it with so many people", I was told. However, as it was an incident that happened only every six years, I wanted to even feel a small part of this spectacular event.

Walking through Pettah to catch the bus, we were told that there were buses which showed movies on the way to Kandy. Excited at the thought, we looked around but to no avail ... so we got on the intercity bus, still hounded by "Apple?" "Chewing gum?", waiting in anticipation to see whether we were going to be alive at the end of the journey.

I still cannot work out whether it is insanity or luck that makes the drivers who overtake on the wrong side of the lane, overtake on blind corners, overtake overtaking vehicles and beep their horns at every given opportunity. A beep for hello, a beep for hurry up, a beep for would you move, a beep for coming through, a beep for you are taking too much room, a beep for I am overtaking you anyway and a beep for thank you. It is fascinating to listen or sometimes to be deafened by these communications of beeps.

In Kandy, we were again confronted with the task of making our way past the vendors and others who were keen to talk to us. Such energy, such playfulness of the Sri Lankans always makes me laugh. Grown men giving each other piggy backs, pinching and hitting each other, playing like children fills me with such warmth and instant liking for the people. There are however amongst these friendly people, those who pray on foreigners. So skilled at eloquent and blatant lying. "Don’t you recognise me?" is the opening sentence. "I work as a chef at your hotel". You momentarily think and apprehensive of being rude, you find yourself entertaining the thought that maybe this man does work at the place you are staying. Of course he does not. Being here for three months now, I have come to recognise the familiar callings.

Crowds upon crowds upon crowds of people; a never-ending queue. It became clear that we were never going to get in to the Dalada Maligawa. Many people had spent the night on the wet, hard concrete floor to get a glimpse of the Sacred Relic. On Sunday 7th October, the last day when the Tooth Relic was shown to the public, an estimated 90, 000 pilgrims flocked to Kandy.

The Tooth Relic itself, claimed to have been brought into Sri Lanka specifically some 1600 years ago to Anuradhapura hasmuch more significance that I could have ever imagined. These dedicated pilgrims waited in the rain, stood for hours and waited. Simply waited not knowing when their turn would come. The security was extremely tight. Since the 1998 truck bombing as well as the recent terrorist attacks, 4000 police officers from all over Sri Lanka were employed to over see the crowds. The checking was rigourous. checking.

I do not know how we managed to get ourselves to the temple. We pleaded with many police officers that we were journalists, flinging our documents here and there. After many check points and confirmation we were in. I could not believe our luck, they were giving us the okay. I walked past thousands of people who had queued up from the night before, they had gained their right to be there. We had not. "Shoes here please" we were told. I was taken aback by this as I wanted to take my shoes off just before entering the temple, not 500 meters before. Not used to having no shoes, I reluctantly left the security and comfort of my shoes to explore the area bare foot. It was a surprisingly liberating experience, as the concrete was warm and welcoming. I almost felt like a pilgrim myself. I was clearly a fraud. All the time I was jumping queues, walking past snakes and snakes of people; those who waited for hours and hours.

We were getting closer, I could see the entrance of the temple now. This is where the hysteria began. I am not certain whether people were getting excited as they were nearing the Relic or if they were getting impatient, but a huge amount of pushing was going on. Never in my life have I felt so squashed. I truly now know what it feels like to be a sardine squashed in a tin. It was the heat for a start. With thousands of bodies pushing to get in. There was no way of going in. The queue was not moving and yet waves of pushing. Police men shouting, chanting broadcast through the speakers and we were all hot, wriggling. Mayhem! I had an old man plastered to my back, hanging on to me with both hands.

Children were screaming, people were treading on my toes, pulling at my hair and I was hot, thirsty and tired. What had happened to the serene pilgrims who were in prayer, silently waiting with flowers in their hands? They had in an instant turned into crazy teenagers running to the front of a pop concert. I could not hide my astonishment the behaviour of some of these people, pushing and shoving to get past.

The moment of seeing the Relic itself was swift. There were monks on either side, spectacular decorations and flowers surrounding it. Heavily guarded, we were ushered in an out in a flash. "Quickly, quickly" they said before you even had time to spot the Tooth. We did not see the actual tooth. Behind a glass was a large tooth shaped brown casket which we are told contains the tooth itself. "Is that it?" I thought to myself. All this waiting and queuing? But then of course it is not about the Tooth Relic itself but more about what it signifies. As well as a religious relic, I felt it had become more of a symbol of Sri Lanka’s freedom and independence. So the people came, as a pilgrimage and as a sign of respect. I was honoured to be able to be part of such a momentous event.